Page 7 of Breaking the Ice

“I do know you. And I really don’t have time to chat. I need run lines and⁠—”

“What?” That pulls me up short. “How do you know me?”

Because I think I’d remember if I had seen this beautiful girl before.

Her voice is clipped with impatience. “Yeah, we have a class together. You always sneak into the back because you’re late and half the time you sleep through dismissal at the end.”

I wince. It would be bad if I asked her to specify which class that is, right? Because while I love college, some of the classes just aren’t my jam. I’ve really gotta do better.

I grasp that thought. “Here’s the thing. I’m turning over a new leaf.” I laugh because it’s fall and leaves, get it? But she stays silent, so I clear my throat. “I’m serious. I need to pass. I need to play⁠—”

“Hockey is always the most important thing, isn’t it?” Bitterness seeps through the phone.

“Look, I won’t lie. The team means a lot to me. Your dad does, too. But I need a C average in my major classes, and I don’t want to screw that up. I need to student teach in the spring. I have to fix this.”

She sighs. “You’re an education major?”

“Phys ed,” I tell her. “I won’t be teaching kids math. It doesn’t matter if I’m bad at it. But I have to pass this class. And US History, too.”

“Look, even if I wanted to help you, I don’t have time.” She sounds impatient now, and I’m running out of chances to convince her.

“But your dad⁠—”

“He doesn’t care about me,” she mutters, so low I can barely hear it. “I’m not hockey.”

“Yes, he does,” I say, more as a reflex than anything. Because even though I didn’t know about this girl, I can’t imagine Coach not caring.

“Forget I said that. It’s not going to work. I need to find a scene partner, and I’m going to hang up now.”

“Wait!” I grab onto that like a drowning man hanging onto a life preserver. “I’ll be your scene partner! And I’ll pay you.”

The quiet that stretches over the phone feels pensive. Finally, she says, “Okay. We’ll do a trial run. Can you meet tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yes, of course, absolutely.” I stumble over my words in my hurry to agree. “I have practice in the afternoon, so what about the evening?”

She sighs so deeply I feel it through my phone. “I hope I don’t live to regret this. Meet me at the library at seven.”

“You won’t! Regret it, I mean.”

She hangs up on me, and now I just have to prove that to her.

Don’t mess this up, Evan.

Chapter

Four

ISABELLA

Isabella: Where are you?

Isabella: I got a table in study room 4. You better be here in the next 5 minutes.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I’m met with the smell of dust, old books, and printer ink. It does not help me achieve a Zen-like state. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, dingy and depressing. The peeling yellow walls of this study room are crying out for a renovation. Too bad Property Brothers don’t have a college campus edition. I’d watch that. I’d like to go watch that right now. I have way too much to do to give in to that urge, though.

Thinking of all my tasks makes my chest tight with anxiety. I tap my pencil on the smooth wooden study table. Then I check my watch, phone clock, and the clock on the wall just to be sure.

Yep. It’s been ten minutes. I’m a sucker for thinking this guy would have been anything but a waste of my time. Shaking my head at myself, I stand and gather my materials into my bookbag. Just as I’m shouldering it, the door opens.