Imani’s POV
I told myself I was only watching the game for background noise.
That it wasn’t a big deal. That I didn’t care that Nicolas was on the ice tonight.
June and I sat cross-legged on my bed, my laptop propped up against a pillow, the hockey game streaming on low volume. She held a bowl of popcorn she barely touched, her chin resting in her palm.
Normally, June loved sports in an aggressively unserious way, cheering for the wrong team, booing referees she didn’t understand, clapping at inappropriate times.
Tonight, she was quiet.
Too quiet.
On the screen, Nicolas skated past the camera, helmet on, jaw set, eyes sharp and focused. Even through grainy pixels, I could tell he was tense. Something about the way his shoulders were held too tight gave him away.
My chest tightened
