Fake emotions
1213 Words
Lila's Pov
We reached the Coach's office, and I hesitated for a second before knocking. The door was closed, and I could hear faint music playing inside, something old and upbeat.
“Come in!” The coach's voice called out.
I pushed the door open, Harper right on my heels.
The coach was sitting behind his desk, wearing a big smile like we’d just brought him the best news of his life. His white polo was tucked in, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his desk was its usual mess, papers, water bottles, a whistle, and a half-empty coffee cup.
“Ladies,” he greeted, gesturing toward the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.”
We exchanged a look before sitting down.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“I’ve got a favor to ask,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
That made me instantly suspicious. The coach's “favors” usually meant trouble.
I raised an eyebrow. “A favor?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, like he was building suspense. “There’s a new transfer student. Talented. Raw talent, but… he’s had a rough past. If he doesn’t get his act together, he’s going to blow his one shot at a scholarship to a good university.”
Harper leaned forward. “Okay… and?”
“And,” Coach continued, “he needs a coach. Someone who can work with him, help him refine his skills, and keep him focused.” His gaze shifted to me. “I thought of you, Lila.”
My stomach dropped. “No.”
He blinked. “Just hear me out…”
“No,” I said again, sharper this time. “I’m not getting back on the rink. Ever.”
“This isn’t about you getting back on the team,” he argued, leaning forward now. “It’s just coaching. Helping someone else. That’s all.”
I shook my head. “No, Coach. I’m not doing it.”
“You’re the best person for the job,” he pressed. “You know the game inside out. You can teach him discipline, strategy…”
“I said no.” My voice was firm, and I made sure he could see I meant it. “Nothing you say will change my mind.”
For a moment, silence filled the room. The coach studied me, then finally leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
“Alright,” he said reluctantly. “But… at least think about it.”
“The answer’s still no,” I told him, standing up.
Harper stood with me, giving Coach an apologetic smile before we headed out.
Once we were in the hallway, Harper glanced at me. “Lila, maybe you should…”
“No.” I didn’t let her finish.
“You don’t even know him yet,” she said gently. “What if this could be good for you?”
“Good for me?” I almost laughed. “Getting back on the rink will just bring back everything I’ve been trying to forget, Harp. I’m not doing it. My mind is made up.”
She sighed, nodding slowly. “Okay. I get it. I’ll stand by you. Always.”
That’s the thing about Harper…she knows when to push and when to back off.
Since we lived in the same neighborhood with our parents, we walked home together. The air was cooler now, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the street.
We passed the corner store, the park where we used to play tag as kids, and finally reached our houses, hers right next to mine.
Once inside, I went straight for my bedroom. I tossed my bag onto the floor and collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Hockey.
God, I missed it. The rush of the game, the sound of the puck hitting the stick, the cheer of the crowd. It was a part of me. But it was also the reason for my biggest heartbreak.
And I wasn’t going to crumble again.
I rolled onto my side, pulling a pillow close. I could hear faint laughter from the kitchen where my mom was talking on the phone, but I stayed in my room. I needed the quiet.
The next morning, I woke up early for work.
After a quick shower and throwing on my uniform, a black T-shirt with the café’s logo and jeans, I headed to the kitchen. Mom was sipping her coffee.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said. “Heading out already?”
“Yeah. I’ve got the morning shift.”
“Alright. Be safe.”
I kissed her cheek before grabbing my bag. “See you later.”
Outside, Harper was already waiting on the porch next door, her blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Ready,” I said, and we started walking toward the café.
The place was already busy when we got there, the smell of coffee and pastries filling the air. I tied my apron around my waist and got to work, taking orders and wiping down tables.
About an hour into my shift, a group of girls from school walked in, three of them, all wearing matching smug expressions. I knew them. Everyone knew them. The kind of girls who lived for drama.
“Hey, Lila,” one of them said as they approached the counter. “Didn’t think I’d still see you here. I thought you’d be… I don’t know… skating somewhere?”
Her friends laughed like she’d just delivered the joke of the year.
I kept my voice calm. “What can I get you?”
“Oh, nothing. Just came to see if the rumors are true,” she said with a fake smile. “Heard you’re still hiding from the rink. Scared Mason will embarrass you again?”
Before I could respond, Harper was at my side. “Back off,” she snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The girl’s smile faded, and after an awkward pause, they ordered their coffees and left.
I turned to Harper. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she said, giving me a small smile.
We went back to work, the moment fading into the background.
When things slowed down, I glanced at Harper. “Don’t forget, you’re coming over after work. We need to get that history assignment done.”
She groaned. “Right. Can’t wait.”
I smirked. “You better.”
She hesitated, then added, “So… about the new student…”
“Nope.” I cut her off. “Not talking about him.”
She raised her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine.”
A few minutes later, the café door opened, and Clint, Harper’s boyfriend, walked in. Harper’s face lit up instantly.
“Hey, babe,” she greeted, moving around the counter to hug him.
I busied myself with cleaning the espresso machine, giving them space. Their laughter drifted over, light and easy.
I didn’t look at them. I didn’t need to. I already knew how it would make my chest ache.
Love, relationships, they weren’t for me. Not anymore.
And I was determined to keep it that way.
- Writer
