Chapter 14 - Lena
870 Words
I didn’t expect lunch to feel like this. I thought it would be stiff, awkward, full of long pauses and polite small talk. And it was awkward at first—both of us fumbling with menus we didn’t need, pretending to read them while sneaking glances at each other.
But somewhere between ordering and the food arriving, something shifted.
It felt… easy. Like high school again. Like before everything got complicated. Like before he left for college and I left for the city and we both pretended we didn’t care. I didn’t realize how much I missed this. Missed him. And I definitely didn’t realize that stupid crush I had on him back then wasn’t as dead as I thought. I try to ignore that part.
“So,” Evan says, leaning back in his chair, “how’s training going?”
I take a breath. “Better. I’m getting stronger. More consistent. But I still have… moments.”
“Panic attacks?” he asks gently.
I nod. “Small ones. Not as bad as before. The pond helps. It’s quiet. No pressure.”
He nods like he understands more than he says. “I’m glad you have that.”
I smile into my coffee. “Me too.”
There’s a comfortable pause before I add, “Some of the girls are coming to visit this weekend.”
His eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. A few of the younger ones I mentored. They said they want to check on me and cheer me up.” I can’t help smiling. “It means a lot.”
“That’s good,” he says. “You deserve that.”
I swirl my spoon in my cup. “There’s one I don’t really understand, though. Why she’d come.”
“Who?”
“Sabrina.”
Evan freezes. “Who?”
I laugh. “You.”
He blinks. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” I say, still laughing. “Her boyfriend lives here.”
He looks genuinely confused. “Her… what?”
“Her boyfriend,” I repeat. “You.”
He stares at me like I’ve just spoken another language. “Lena, I don’t know a Sabrina.”
I choke on my coffee, laughing harder. “Oh my god, Evan, don’t say that. She’s been bragging for months.”
“About what?”
“That you two are together,” I say, wiping my eyes. “That you met at a party in Chicago and had this big connection and you’re in love.”
He looks horrified. “What?!”
I can’t stop laughing. “She tells everyone. Like… everyone.”
“I don’t even remember meeting a Sabrina,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “And I definitely don’t have a girlfriend.”
That makes me laugh even harder, and he just stares at me, bewildered.
“Why is that funny?” he asks.
“Because,” I say, catching my breath, “she talks about you like you’re her soulmate.”
He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Oh my god.”
I grin. “Welcome to my world.”
He shakes his head, still looking baffled. “Okay, hold on. Show me a picture.”
I blink. “A picture?”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows. “If she’s been telling everyone we’re together, I want to see who she even is.”
I laugh again, but I pull out my phone. “Fine. But don’t freak out.”
“I’m already freaking out.”
I scroll through the team photos until I find one from last season — the whole group lined up on the ice. Sabrina is front and center, smiling like she owns the world.
I turn the screen toward him.
Evan squints. “Who’s that?”
“Sabrina,” I say.
He stares harder. “I’ve never seen that girl in my life.”
I snort. “Oh my god.”
“What?” he demands.
“You really don’t know her.”
“No!” he says, throwing his hands up. “Lena, I swear, I have never talked to that girl. I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t even have time for a girlfriend.”
I’m laughing so hard I have to cover my mouth. “She is going to be devastated.”
He groans. “Why? Why would she tell people that?”
“Because she’s… Sabrina,” I say, shrugging helplessly. “She’s dramatic. Competitive. And she likes attention.”
He leans back, rubbing his face. “Great. So now I have a stalker.” He lifts his head, eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe a little.”
We both laugh, and for a moment, everything feels light. Easy. Familiar. Like we’re not two people carrying years of distance and hurt. Like we’re not both trying to pretend we don’t feel something we shouldn’t. Like we’re just… us. And that scares me more than anything. Because I can feel it, quiet, warm, dangerous, blooming in my chest again. That crush I thought I buried. And I have no idea what to do with it.
- Writer
