Chapter 4
1231 Words
Austin
I let the silence hang between us for a moment longer. Jane was lying there, eyes wide, blinking at me like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to breathe. I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. There was something weirdly magnetic about it, watching her process everything that had just happened.
But then she blushed.
It was subtle - just a slow, creeping warmth that climbed from her neck to her cheeks. I caught it immediately. Even in the dim tent, I could see the color. I smirked.
“What’s this?” I asked quietly, letting my voice drop to a teasing whisper. “You look like an apple.”
She scowled and tried to turn away, but I reached out before she could get too far and pinched her cheek, deliberately light and slow so she could have shoved me off if she’d wanted. She didn’t. She just made this outraged little puff of air and batted my hand away.
I chuckled low in my throat. God, she was easy to wind up.
But I didn’t back off much. I leaned in closer instead, careful to keep my weight off her but enough that the fabric of the tent rustled. I let my breath brush her ear.
“Hey,” I murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Be careful. These walls are paper thin. You’ll get us both caught if you keep talking.”
She made a strangled noise in her throat and immediately clamped her mouth shut. Her eyes flashed, defiant but embarrassed. I grinned again, satisfied.
I shifted back just enough to see her face clearly and let my expression soften. “Seriously though,” I added, my voice dropping out of the teasing register. “What the hell were you thinking? You’re too damn daring for your own good.”
She stiffened under the blanket. I could see her swallowing, throat working.
“I had to try,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, like she’d worn it out arguing with herself all day. “I didn’t have another option. UMass doesn’t have a program like this. I needed real exposure. Real scouts. Real games.”
Her eyes darted away for a second, like she was embarrassed to say it out loud.
“It’s all I want,” she mumbled.
The words hit me harder than I expected.
I drew in a slow breath, studying her face in the dim light. The flush was still there, but her eyes had gone hard. Determined.
Shit, I thought. I know that look.
Because it was mine, too.
It was the same way I’d felt at fifteen when I realized my dad wasn’t going to pay for skating anymore, and I’d had to talk my coach into letting me clean the rink for extra hours. The same look I’d given Coach last year when he warned me my grades might sink me. That same desperate, clawing, I will not let go kind of need.
I let my breath out slowly.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Okay. I get it.”
Her eyes flicked back to mine, startled.
I shrugged, glancing around the cramped tent for emphasis. “This sport is everything for some of us. We do stupid s**t to hold on to it.”
She said nothing.
I didn’t press her.
Instead, I let the silence settle between us, warmer than it had been before. More honest.
I reached out one more time, but this time it wasn’t to pinch her or tease. I ruffled her short hair lightly, just once, before pulling my hand back.
“Get some sleep,” I said gruffly. “We’ve got practice tomorrow. Early.”
She blinked at me, wide-eyed, like she wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that I was suddenly treating her like a teammate.
I turned around before she could say anything, rolling onto my side with my back to her.
“Good night, Dawson,” I muttered, voice low.
And I shut my eyes.
***
Jane
I lay there for a long time, staring at the curve of Austin’s back in the dark. My heart was still racing from the last few minutes. His voice in my ear. The way he’d leaned so close that I could feel the heat of him through both our clothes.
And then… how quickly he’d turned gentle.
He didn’t have to understand. He didn’t have to listen. He could’ve kicked me out of this tent, exposed me to the entire team. But he hadn’t.
He’d called me daring. Like it was reckless and admirable at the same time.
Too damn daring for your own good.
The words looped in my head.
My face still felt hot where he’d pinched my cheek. I pressed my palm against it, trying to will away the memory.
How was I supposed to sleep after that?
I closed my eyes tight, forcing myself to breathe. In and out.
Calm down, Jane.
I tried to think about the next three months. About practice schedules and drills and keeping my head down. About Mia’s voice in my head telling me I was crazy but also brilliant.
I tried to imagine what it would take to survive this camp with no one else finding out.
But the image that kept rising behind my eyelids wasn’t the team or the rink or the scouts.
It was Austin.
The infuriating way he smirked. The heat in his eyes when he teased me. The weird, disarming kindness that surfaced when I least expected it.
I let out a shaky breath and pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes.
This is so stupid.
But I couldn’t help it.
I thought about what he’d said.
This sport is everything for some of us. We do stupid s**t to hold on to it.
I understood that better than anyone.
Finally, exhausted, I let my body sink fully into the sleeping bag. My muscles unwound, slowly, carefully, until the tension drained out.
Come on, Jane. You can do this.
I repeated it to myself like a mantra until my thoughts got fuzzy, and the steady rhythm of Austin’s breathing next to me was the last thing I remembered.
In my dreams, I was on the ice. The crowd was cheering. My stick was raised. I was holding the Stanly Cup over my head, eyes bright with tears, grinning so hard my face hurt. My brother was in the front row, cheering. Mia was there too, waving like a lunatic.
Everything felt possible.
It felt real.
I didn’t know how long I slept before I felt someone shaking my shoulder.
“Hey. Dawson. Wake up.”
I blinked blearily. Light was leaking through the tent’s thin walls. I groaned, trying to pull the blanket back over my head, but a hand was already in the way.
I shoved at it instinctively - and realized with horror I was gripping onto someone’s arm. Hard.
My eyes flew open.
Austin’s face was right there, way too close, all sleepy scowl and tousled hair.
“Relax,” he muttered, voice gravelly with sleep. “It’s just me.”
I squeaked, actually squeaked, and let go so fast I almost fell over backward.
His mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh.
And that made it even worse.
- Writer
