It felt like everything was just piling on top of me right now. My feet were aching, my calves were sore. I was dealing with a hormonal egotistical cunt of a teammate. Preston had been mentioning marriage. Now I had to spend an hour straightening my hair to sit and eat cold fucking soup while I listen to Preston’s mother talk about how pretty I would be if I wore a little makeup.
Tears of frustration build up in my eyes, and I slam my fist straight into the first wall I see. Maybe if I had a female role model I’d know how to handle these situations better, but I was raised by a gaggle of hockey players who dealt with all their problems by punching shit.
This theory, I have learned, is flawed. It only makes you angrier because now my hand hurts.
“Fuck,” I hiss holding my wrist to my chest. My knuckles are dark red and throbbing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” All the built-up emotions feel like they need to explode out of me. It was all becoming too much.
“What’d the wall ever do to you, Vallie?”
I am more positive than ever that the universe hates me. This has to be a nightmare that I’ll soon wake up from, because I can’t catch a fucking break anymore.
Obviously I fucking knew I’d run into him eventually. It was inevitable. We played for the same hockey organization. Our practice facility was in the same place. We played games in the same arena, and we traveled together for away games. I knew this was going to happen. I just wish it weren’t when I was already twenty seconds from a mental fucking breakdown.
Vallie.
I hadn’t heard that nickname in four long-ass years. It felt like dusting off an old record that hadn’t been played in years, and finally hearing its song again. It was painful at first, but once it settled in, it reminded you of why you liked vinyl music in the first place.
It made you want to dance.
Bishop Maverick aged like fine wine. I hated him for it. I’d hoped that once he turned thirty he’d start going bald, gain a few pounds, and start to get wrinkles. But no. He still looks like a GQ model fresh from a magazine cover.
That golden blond hair was shining as always, tan skin, and it seemed his body had gotten more defined over the years. It had been almost exactly four years now since I last saw him. Four years. For us it seemed like a lifetime. We had gone from seeing each other almost every day of our lives and then it all ended. No phone calls, no text messages. Looking at him reminded me that we were strangers now, and I think that hurt the most.
“I thought I heard it talking shit about me earlier.” I shrug trying to lighten the heaviness between us. However, there is an elephant in the room. An awkwardness between us that had never been there before. We were in uncharted territory with each other.
I try reminding myself and my ignorant heart that he hurt us. I try remembering the pain I felt the day I left his place. The feeling of dread every time his name popped up on my phone, and how hard it was to decline the call. The endless tears I cried, the hurt I felt. Except now as I look at him, all I feel is longing.
I missed him.
“Listen, Valor, I─”
I hold my hand up to him gently, shaking my head with a soft smile. I was not ready for the conversation he was about to start. I’d forgiven him a long time ago. The hardest part was moving on without understanding why. Why I wasn’t the person he wanted to go public with. The not knowing killed me.
“You don’t have to say anything. We don’t have to talk about it, it was forever ago anyway. It’s fine. We are cool.” I nod my head more than I should, trying to enforce the fact that I’m okay.
He runs his hand through his hair, before shoving his hands into his pockets. A sigh escapes his body. Those blue eyes meet mine. I feel my soul wave to his in a formal greeting. I know he wants to say more but I’m not in the right headspace to have that conversation with him yet.
He motions to my hand, raising an eyebrow, when he notices how swollen it is. “You okay?”
My eyes soften at his statement, and I can’t help but smile even though I want to cry. I’m not okay. My life is fucking stressful. I don’t want to do anything but cuddle up on the couch and eat Chinese food. I want my best friend back. I want to tell him everything. I want to find comfort in his arms. I want him to make me tea, because he’s the only one who makes it right.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from getting emotional.
If I had one wish in this life, just one? I’d take it all back. I’d erase the memories of our first kiss. All of the sex, the confessions, all of it. I’d take it all back if I could have him as my friend again. I’d do it in a heartbeat. I needed him right now, but I couldn't have him because the truth was… I didn’t know who Bishop was anymore.
We were strangers.
“I’m fine, B.”
“So you’re lying now?” Obviously I wasn’t a stranger to him. He always could read me like a book.
I roll my eyes, fighting a smile, “I’m serious, everything is fine.” I pause, hiking my bag higher on my shoulder, and moving towards him. “I don’t want things to be awkward. We are going to be seeing each other a lot now. So can we go back to being friends?” I say sticking my hand out to him for him to shake in an agreement.
I know we will never be the kind of friends we used to be, but I don’t need to act like a Russian spy every time I come to practice in order to avoid the awkward tension between us.
He steps closer to me, and now he is in my space. I swallow loudly. I can smell his cologne and it takes me all the way back to being eighteen years old, wrapped in his sheets. He takes his hand out of his pocket, grabbing mine. The warmth of his hand encases mine, and I feel it all the way in my toes.
There is something resting between our palms, and my eyes raise in confusion. He doesn’t say anything though, he just moves his hand from mine, leaving the item with me. I feel his body lean closer to me, his head resting right next to my ear.
I look down in my palm, letting a small gasp of surprise leave me as I glance at the small box.
“Lemonheads,” I mutter softly.
I don’t move my body, but I can feel the smirk on his features as his fingers grip one of my loose curls, tugging it softly.
“We’ve never been just friends, Vallie. I don’t plan to start now.”
I follow the skaters on the ice, particularly the jersey-wearing thirty-three. She was on the first line tonight. It’s her moment to prove she belonged in the hockey league. Tonight she played with a fire I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Valor already had a goal and an assist. I had selflessly made sure to record her game on the DVR in my hotel room. After our game, I headed straight for the room and turned the TV on. ESPN had notified me they won halfway through watching the game, but I still wanted to finish it, just to watch how she played.
“Bishop, are you even listening to me?”
Shit.
“Yes, I’m listening. I am getting plenty of sleep, Anna. Don’t worry.”
The last thing I remember her saying was something about me not getting sleep, and I prayed she hadn’t said anything more.
“You better not be lying to me, Bishop Andrew.” I can see her standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. I’m thirty years old and she treats me like I am thirteen again. You’d think I was irresponsible or something.