Chapter 2
1557 Words
My legs move before my brain agrees to it, carrying me down a corridor I've walked a hundred times without ever dreading it like this. Somewhere behind me, Priya says something about timing, but the words blur into static. All I can hear is my own pulse, loud and insistent, counting down the seconds until I have to sit across from the one person I swore I'd never have to face again.
"You've got this," I mutter under my breath, more order than reassurance, my hand already on the door before I let myself think twice. Whatever composure I have left, I gather it now — there won't be time to find it once I'm inside. The media room feels colder than the rink. It's not because of the temperature, though. It's because everything here is controlled, like no one is trying to mess anything up.
Cameras are already set up when I walk in from two angles. Lighting has been fixed, and among all the journalists in our team, only a few have been picked.
They clearly don't want too much chaos.
"Ah, Jazlyn," my editor, Camille calls, walking towards me. Her face is bright, like she's relieved I'm finally here.
"You're here. Thank goodness. I was already beginning to lose my mind. Are you ready for the interview?"
I nod, opening my mouth to speak, only to snap it back shut when I feel a prickling at the back of my neck.
My heart skips instantly, and I turn immediately, the breath leaving my lungs when Xavier walks in.
He's still in his partial gear, his jersey half-removed, hair damp from the match. And he looks better than he did before. More matured, too.
Everyone in the room straightens as he walks in and takes his seat without greeting anyone, and Camille pushes me towards where I'm supposed to stand, smiling.
I'm not supposed to be affected by him. He was the one who left me years ago.
I should be angry. Not affected by his presence at all.
With that thought in mind, I straighten and take my seat, a surge of determination going through me before I meet his eyes.
I see the recognition that flashes in those blue irises instantly, but it disappears almost immediately, like it was never there.
Great to know we're going to pretend we don't know each other. Two can play the game.
As if he can read my mind, his eyes narrows. And when I don't look away, he clenches his jaw, before looking away.
I take a deep breath, then, and open my notebook.
Journalist mode.
Just then, the PR coordinator's voice comes from somewhere behind me. "We'll begin now."
Xavier faces me again.
"Sterling," I start after taking another silent deep breath, my voice even. "This is your first match back after five years. How does it feel returning to competitive play?"
At the question, he means back slightly into his seat, his posture controlled before he replies. "It feels normal."
His voice sounds deeper and more matured than it was before, the velvety feel to it that always sent shivers down my spine even more intense now.
Instead of giving in to whatever my body is feeling, I register the way he said the words so simply and nod.
Then, I continue.
"There was significant anticipation around your return," I say. "Did you feel pressure coming in this afternoon?"
"No."
I move to the next question.
"On-ice incident during the game, there were visible tensions. How do you respond to concerns about discipline?"
The air thickens instantly, and I watch as the PR coordinator, Priya's pen pauses. Xavier, on the other hand, doesn't react to the question.
His fingers only adjust slightly in his gloves.
"I play the game," he says. "People interpret it how they want."
That's not an answer, I want to say.
However, I choose not to, hoping that at least, the slight rise of my brow is enough to communicate what I think to him.
I continue anyway.
"You've been away from this league for years. How quickly are you adapting to the team's system?"
"I adapt quickly," he says.
Silence follows his words, and I feel Priya's gaze on me, as if she's communicating what I should ask.
And I know what that is.
I just don't know how to phrase it because from the times I've known Xavier, he's never been a fan of people.
Even when he used to play hockey back then, he barely --
I'm pulled back to the present when someone clears their throat. I blink, hesitating briefly before just asking.
"Do you feel fully integrated with the team, on and off the ice?"
His eyes narrow on me, as if he thinks I asked the question with the intention of attacking him, but after what feels like forever, he gives an answer.
"Yes," he says.
Almost immediately, the media coordinator, Destiny nods from where she's standing and begins to walk towards us, the sound of her heels clicking on the tiles.
"That's all."
The cameras remain on for a few seconds longer before they're shut down and the team members begin to move, packing up stuffs.
I, on the other hand, close my notebook and stand, ignoring the way his gaze stays on me. I know I shouldn't look at him, but then I do.
And just when I do, he looks away immediately just as Destiny begins to speak to him.
I take that as an opportunity to leave the room.
The moment I walk into the quiet corridor, I release a breath and place a hand against the wall beside me, trying to calm the racing in my heart.
Gosh. What was that?
I don't hear the sounds of footsteps coming closer until Priya stops beside me, her gaze fixed on my face.
From the corner of my eyes, I watch as her lips curl into a smile, the dimple on the side of her cheek appearing before she asks.
"Do you two know each other?"
I freeze immediately.
She chuckles at my reaction, and I turn to look at her, hoping the terror I feel inside me isn't written on my face.
"What-"
"The interview seemed tense," she says. "Like, really tense. You're usually free but formal around the people you interview. It was different with him."
I frown.
"That's why I asked," she says again. "If you knew each other."
"Does a tense atmosphere mean we know each other?"
"No, not really," she replies. "But ..." she shrugs. "The way you both looked at each other. I could tell."
I look away from her, considering whether or not to tell her.
Priya and I have known each other for almost a year now, and she doesn't know much about me. I can tell how much she wants to though, and I feel really sorry for being a bad friend.
So, I take a quiet, inaudible breath and reply. "We used to."
"Oh?" She raises a brow.
I can tell she wants to ask more, but I don't give her the information.
Because how do I begin to tell her about what I'd call my tragic love story as a teenager with Xavier Sterling, leading to our early twenties?
How do I tell her about how we planned to get married and grow old together with just three kids, how we had so many dreams?
Until a hockey scandal broke things up between us.
My chest tightens at the reminder, a tear stinging my eyes, and I blink it back.
That period had been the worse days of my life because it felt like I was watching his dream - something I couldn't stop him from - steal him away from me. I wasn't sure it was hockey entirely, but after that scandal, he'd shut down immediately.
And what even made it jarring was the fact that he was never like that in the first place.
Xavier used to talk more. He used to stay more and explained every single thing to me.
But the exception was that time.
I'd pushed him over and over, asking what the scandal was, asking how I could help better. I barely slept, turning on my bed all night with worry all because I didn't like the state of distress he was in.
But not once did he ever give in. He didn't meet me halfway, and eventually, I stopped trying too.
Because you can't hold onto someone who has already decided to leave without saying it.
I swallow the thought down and force it down almost immediately, bringing myself back to the present.
There's no time to mop around my terrible love story ending.
So, I look back at Priya, whose face is contorted into a worried frown now.
"Are you okay?" She asks. "You looked very -"
"I'm fine," I interrupt. "I-I need to-"
I've barely even finished speaking when the sound of my phone ringing from my bag fills the hallway. I take an excuse from her and pull it out immediately, frowning when I see the caller ID.
St. Mary school.
I answer immediately.
"Good after-"
"Ms. Cross," a female voice interrupts me immediately, worried. "There's been a situation with your daughter. You're needed in the hospital right now."
What?!
- Writer
