Love on Thin Ice

Chapter 8 - Reina

While driving home

As Kate and Sarah bombarded me with questions, I couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty creeping in. "Okay, what just happened, Rein? Did you really just exchange numbers with that hockey player?" Kate's inquiry mirrored the one swirling in my mind.

"Yeah, I would like to know that too," I thought silently, echoing Kate's sentiment.

"To be honest, I don't know what's wrong with me but yes, I did. But-" Before I could finish, Sarah interjected with her trademark "aaaand there's always a but."

I rolled my eyes at her interruption. "Yes, there's a but because I don't know if I will even be answering his texts, besides, I'm probably gonna delete his number."

"Well, that wouldn't be nice to leave him on read and delete his number," Kate chimed in, offering a different perspective.

Sarah, ever the optimist, declared, "If you ask me, I would answer him the next second he texted me. It's Max Anderson after all."

"I will decide what to do when he's going to text me if he's going to do that. But believe me, I'm just another girl for him..." My words trailed off, a hint of skepticism lacing each syllable.

"Or maybe he's just like every other hockey player out there, full of himself and not worth my time," I countered, trying to shut down any notions of giving him a chance.

"But he seemed genuinely interested in you, Rein. And he's cute!" Sarah persisted, her excitement evident in her voice.

I sighed, feeling the weight of my busy schedule pressing down on me. "Cute or not, I'm not looking for a relationship right now. I have too much on my plate with school and everything else."

Kate offered a more hopeful perspective. "Fair enough, but don't close yourself off completely. You never know what could happen."

I appreciated their concern, but I was adamant about my decision. "I appreciate your concern, guys, but let's just drop it, okay? Max Anderson is not the one for me." I declared firmly.

Sarah relented, but not without a final plea. "Alright, alright, we'll drop it. But if he does text you, just think about giving him a chance, okay?"

With a resigned sigh, I agreed. "Fine, I'll think about it. Now, can we please talk about something else?"

As we drove home, the conversation thankfully shifted away from Max and onto lighter topics. Despite my friends'  teasing, I held onto that I wouldn't let another hockey player into my life again.

____

As I got home, I went straight to my room. As I sat alone in my room, my phone in hand, I couldn't shake that weird feeling in my gut. The text message from the unfamiliar number had caught me off guard, knowing well who stood behind this unknown message.

_____

Unknown number

Hey, it's Max, the guy who had the lucky chance to catch you after the game. You know, they say in hockey "the best offense is a good defense", but I think our little collision might just be the universe's way of telling me to take a shot at something more than a puck.

How about we team up off the ice? I can't promise I'll be as smooth on the first date as I am in the rink, but I can guarantee some laughs and a good time. Maybe we'll find out if there's a spark that can melt the ice.

So, what do you say? Are you ready to skate into this with me? Let's make plans that'll score more than just a goal.

And of course, no pressure, and we can just hang out, no need to call it a date!

Looking forward to our faceoff, Max 

_____

As I read Max's message, a smile unwillingly shows up on my lips. It's Max, the hockey forward with quick reflexes, not just on the ice, but apparently in saving people from the chaos of the crowd. His words, laced with a confident charm, had a curious effect on me. They're bold, and a bit arrogant, but there's an underlying warmth that's hard to ignore.

Part of me was tempted to dismiss his invitation, to brush off the possibility of further interaction with a simple "thanks, but no thanks." But another part of me, a part that I had been suppressing, whispered that perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to judge. Besides, it would be rude to text "thanks, but no thanks."

And I can't help but replay the moment we met, the way his arms steadied me, the way I felt when his arms were around me, the brief but intense eye contact. It was just a fleeting encounter that didn't last for long, yet here I am, smiling over his flirtatious invitation and thinking about him.

"Aghhh, where did I get myself into again? Smiling over a message sent by a hockey player." 

I'm not gonna lie, the hockey references are clever, and they show a vivid picture of Max's world. It for sure revolves around ice and hockey. The suggestion of a casual meet-up, maybe even lacing up skates together, it's all so... Max. It's the kind of bold move that makes you want to say yes, to take the risk and see where it leads. But this isn't a game, and I'm no puck to be won.

And yet there's a part of me that hesitates. "Is this just a game to him? Am I a trophy that he wants to get and then forget about? What if I get hurt? But maybe I wouldn't see him again after that date? Wait a minute a date? Oh no no no, it would be just a casual meeting, like friends,  nothing more."

I had witnessed firsthand the highs and lows of dating someone in the sport, the constant fan attention, the late-night parties after games, practice, and trips to other places for the game.

Despite Max's earlier charm and the way I felt around him... I couldn't shake the fear that history would repeat itself. The thought of trusting another hockey player, no matter how different Max seemed, was a daunting prospect.

Yet, as I stared at his message, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than met the eye. Maybe he's not like the others? With a sigh, I set my phone aside, knowing that I needed time to think it all over before making any decisions.