The Iceking's Obsession

Chapter Eighteen

_JANE_

This is foolish!

This isn't me!

This isn't the girl Mom raised!

Where's my mantra?

Oh! It's right on the dashboard of the old truck that was handed down to me by mom last summer when I turned down Thomas the geek with braces at seventeen.

"Girls like us. We don't get loved. We get used."

I kept reading this over and over again. Convincing myself I knew exactly what I was doing. But did I? That guy from the store room was definitely Noah. I couldn't have been mistaken. Elvis had stormed out angrily that night and left mom. According to mom, she was sick and worried about me even though I found her curled up in bed sleeping peacefully. Exactly what someone whose only child ran off with a stranger would do right?

I don't know why I'm driving over to this match neither do I know why I've been hiding this past week. If I were to judge his character by the night I passed at his place, he was nice to his mom and to me. He seemed like a good person.

Until the next day when I asked Roselle, the nail chewing, gum chewing, redhead sitting by my side about Noah. She literally fell off her chair. Her face was pale and it was like she had goosebumps on her skin. I was confused but I waited till Mr. Finn, who was teaching maths with the grim ripper's expression plastered on his face left the class.

Before Roselle could rush with the crowd, I pulled her aside and asked her. "Who is Noah?"

"You know there's only one Noah in this school right?"

"Sorry but I'm not with the school register so it's really not my business."

Okay. That was a bit wrong. A bit. I should ask him about him if I want to know him. I shouldn't be cornering this girl to her table and giving her "Tell me what you know or die" looks. Roselle swallowed and bit her fingers.

"I can't believe you don't know who he is. He's... He's the Iceking."

"Huh?"

"He's a hockey player."

"Oh... Hockey, ice"

But that doesn't explain the reason she's freaking out and looking over my shoulder like she's starring in a horror movie.

"And what? Why are you scared of him?"

"He's intimidating, he's scary, his height is for basketball and not hockey, his eyes are too blue. You get the chills whenever you pass by him..."

"So?"

"There's actually a rumour."

Okay. Now I'm interested.

"About Noah?"

"No!" She hushed.

"You can't keep saying his name. Please." She looked around warily, "I don't want trouble"

"Okay. What's the rumour about Iceking?"

"He's not human. At least, that's what we think. You need to see him play. It's like he's possessed. He's not in his final year and college teams are already head to head struggling to get him on their team. He's so ridiculously handsome that it doesn't seem real. And the..."

"Roselle?"

"He's not human? That's the rumour?"

She suddenly looked embarrassed and blushed. "Well, that's what they say."

"And everybody avoids him because of a rumour? Because he's too ridiculously good-looking to be human? Because he's outrageously talented? No one has ever tried to be friends with him? You don't even know him and you've concluded on so many things."

I don't know why I'm defending Noah. But it was annoyingly stupid, their reason was lame. Noah had talent. He had the looks. He could pull off a bad boy look in school and also pull off the good Mama's boy at home. He probably feels bad that he doesn't have a friend.

Just then, I saw Noah, there was a short guy glued to his side. Noah's eyes were distant. Like he didn't care about anything and anyone, even himself. His expression was a "don't talk to me if you don't want to die" expression but he still looked painfully beautiful. I really can't explain it but I know it has to be illegal, owning all that beauty.

"See, you're drooling too." Roselle giggled. "Did that look real to you? And that was his right hand, Roddy. The bravest boy in the world. He's just a bit shorter than I am. I'd have snagged him."

"Uhm? Roselle? We're late for the next class."

***

Mom refused to talk about Elvis and that night. She didn't scold me for coming back late neither did she act relieved. We just moved on. She cooked dinner again tonight since I was busy with my homework and she wasn't talking to me.

My fork kept rolling and going back and forth but I didn't feel like eating. I was exhausted and I felt sick. This wasn't us, but I won't apologize for being the reason that pig stomped away. If you ask me, he's supposed to be wearing orange overall and sleeping in cold cells, spending the rest of his life putting up with prison bullies.

"Mom?"

She didn't even look up. She shoved her mouth full and raised an eyebrow at me. Holy fried chicken! Was she telling me to observe table manners? Right now?

"Mom. I'm not going to ask you to forgive me because I'm not the one at fault here."

That probably got her.

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes. I walked in and avoided this man like I always avoid all your damn gigolos..."

I saw white. My eyes flashed white. Mom just slapped me. She looked like she was angry enough to do it again but the anger in me wasn't going to let me back down and let her be.

"Elvis isn't a gigolo. He's a doctor."

"Part timing as a gigolos. Guess the returns are high. He hit on me and when I resisted, he hit me. Mom! He slapped me, like you just did. I was almost r***d. In your house. And he's not a gigolo?"

Mom almost looked sorry. Almost. "You were rude to him. You hit on him. He told me. And he's not a gigolo. I love him."

The world just ended right? If I look out the window now, there should be a group of people going up in wings and white gowns. I just missed rapture, didn't I? Mom just said she loved someone after teaching me for one...two...three...fourteen... Fifteen years! to never fall in love because girls like us only get hurt. I'd have been elated. I'd have been glad and danced round the house singing Ed Sheeran's Perfect (mom's favorite) with my hair comb as my microphone. But it had to be Elvis. He's unattractive, he's not charming, he's a crude bastard and I hate him.

"Wow! Great! You're getting married? You'd have kids? I'd have siblings from your marriage with the doctor with a part-time job?"

"Of course darling." She replied sweetly and I burst into tears.

I was angry. f*****g angry.

The next day, I left the house at dawn and skipped classes. Went straight to the library and slept till the librarian told me to go to class since this was the library and not the infirmary. I was heading to class when I found the store. I went into it because I just wasn't ready to face anyone. I was tired and hungry and sad and f*****g angry at my mom, at Elvis at my father whom mom claimed died.

I was in the store, crying my eyes out like I did last night when Noah came in. I knew it was him. It was oddly comforting and he didn't ask me questions. He just handed me his handkerchief and since he probably didn't think it was me, I blew my nose into it and offered it back to him. I wanted to have the handkerchief. It smelled like him. And he'd take it back if I just wiped tears and returned it, so I blew my nose in it and the result was what I expected.

Then he had to ask if I was okay. "Do I look okay?"

"No. Are you hungry?"

I said no because I bought sandwiches on my way to school. I couldn't make them at home, my eyes were too swollen and heavy with lack of sleep and too much tears.

Then he offered to share his mom's Mac and cheese with me. I smiled stupidly, maybe he knew it was me. But the I snorted and said no.

And my brain got mushy from the time he asked me to watch his game to the moment his lips were inches away from mine. I regret what I did next because since then, I've been imagining what he'd have tasted like. Ice?

And now I'm on my way to watch his match, handkerchief in hand, hoping that maybe... Just maybe.