Iced Hearts And Half Time Kisses

Off The Record

The next morning, Knox sits in the back booth at Joe’s Diner, the only place in Stonebridge where the walls are plastered with more hockey posters than there are people eavesdropping. Faded images of NHL legends , their faces cut in the photo posters, in mid-slapshot.

The diner’s fluorescent lights shun faintly, casting a slight glow over the red vinyl seats. Knox is drumming his fingers slightly on the sticky tabletop. His leather jacket is slung over the back of the booth, and his dark hair falls messily over his forehead, still damp from the snow outside as his eyes scanned around, anticipating Skye’s arrival.

He chose this spot for a reason, it’s tucked in the corner, far from the counter where people gossip about the town’s latest drama and about his every little activity. No one’s going to overhear what he’s about to say.

Soon, Skye pushes through the glass door. Snow clings to her navy scarf, melting into dark patches as she unwinds it from her neck. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, her eyes searching for Knox like she’s already decided she’s not letting Knox steer this conversation. She spotted him and approached. She slid into the booth across from him. She came straight to this place after the last class for the day as she shrugs off her coat. Her posture is stiff, as she looked up seriously at him.

“What’s so crucial I can’t share it with anyone?” she asks, skipping any small talk. Her voice is low. She leans forward slightly, her scarf still dangling over one shoulder, snowflakes glittering under the diner’s lights before they dissolve.

Knox’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking to the window beside them. Outside, the snow falls in lazy spirals, blurring the streetlights into halos. He scans the room, empty except for a waitress wiping down the counter and a guy in a trucker hat hunched over a plate of eggs. No Keller. No Laurel. No one he doesn’t trust. Still, his stomach churns, the memory of that shadow at the rink last night gnawing at him. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his black hoodie riding up to reveal the edge of a faded wristband.

Skye’s gaze met his wrist and for some reason, something about it felt familiar but she pushed it off as his voice made her snap out of her thoughts.

“It’s about the previous day,” he says, his voice low. Your lips tasted so good. And I wish to taste it again.” His lips curled into a lustful smirk, his eyes not leaving her lips. Her lips curled into a shy smile as she looked away but his next word made the butterflies in her belle disappear in an instant.

“Well you need to be careful with me. Don’t feel so special.”

Skye’s brows furrow. She tilts her head, studying him, and he can tell she’s trying to gauge how serious he is.

“Stop feeling high about yourself. You are not one of my fantasies.” She says casually. If this is the reason you brought me here, then I should leave. I have other important things to do.” Just as she was about to leave, his words made her halt.

“I’ll advise you not to be in a haste” He presses, his tone filled with unease. “I think someone’s following us.” His eyes narrowed in seriousness.

His words made her shifts in her seat, her knee brushing the table leg nervously as her eyes scanned around.

Knox hesitates, his gaze dropping to her. He doesn’t want to scare her, not when she’s already looking scared.

“Someone is following us?” She questions as he stutters.

“I… I don’t know,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “But it wasn’t the first time. And after what happened in the art room…” He trails off, his eyes meeting hers, and for a second, the memory of her lips on his, her body pressed against him, floods his mind. He shakes it off, focusing on the present.

Skye couldn’t hold eye contact between them as it made her so uncomfortable. Her cheeks flush as she responds. “So, why are you telling me this?” she asks, her voice steadier now, like she’s forcing herself to stay calm.

Soon, the waitress, a woman with a name tag reading “Darlene,” interrupts them, plunking down two chipped ceramic mugs of coffee. The liquid sloshes and as Skye reaches for hers, her hand brushes Knox’s. The contact is brief, but it sends a jolt through her as she feels her body feeling a strange way, a familiar way she felt when he kissed her.

“Maybe we could figure out who it is. But how does it affect me anyways?” Skye says, her eyes locked on his as she rolls her eyes and sips her coffee. “If someone’s watching, that’s on you. I’ve got nothing to do with it. I only came here because Mrs Graves gave me no choice. She paired me with you in the first place.”

Knox can’t help it, the corner of his mouth twitches into a half-smile. She’s braver than most girls he knows here in Stonebridge, braver than he expected from the quiet girl who hides behind her sketches all day as a new student. “You’re not scared?” he asks, his elbows resting on the table. He leans close, close enough to study every contour of her face. For a moment, he forgets to keep his guard up, forgets the distance he’s supposed to maintain.

Skye’s lips part, like she’s about to answer, but then she leans back, crossing her arms. “Do I look scared?” she mutters. “And I’m not gonna let your personality ruin my life.” She pauses, her fingers pushing some strands of hair to the side of her ears.

“Well you should be afraid. Getting close to me means a lot and I’m being kind to warn you.”

Knox smirks fading. He hadn’t meant to say that, not out loud. His eyes darted to the window again, the snow falling thicker now, obscuring the street. “Just… be careful, Emerson,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, low enough to feel secretive. “Once you’re in this, whatever this is, there’s no walking away.”

Skye’s eyes narrow, searching his face for answers he’s not ready to give. “What do you mean?” she demands. “Knox, if you know something, just tell me. I’m not some fragile kid who needs protecting.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came as he wondered how he could explain the weight of his past to her, the secrets he’s buried that made him this nonchalant. He doesn’t want to get her involved and for a strange reason, he couldn’t understand why he suddenly has a soft spot for this new girl. Before he can find his word, a shadow moves outside the window as Knox’s head snaps up towards the direction. And then his eyes fell on a figure. It’s Hunter, his older brother, the former hockey star whose career imploded in a scandal that still haunts their family. Hunter’s smirk is cutting, as his smirk stays just long enough for Knox to catch it before he vanishes out of sight.

Knox’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Hunter’s always believed Knox is throwing away the NHL scholarship he fought for, the one Hunter lost to his own mistakes. The resentment is a living thing between them, a wound that never heals. Knox’s pulse races, his mind spinning with questions on why Hunter was following him. Why is Hunter here? What does he want? And why now, when Skye’s involved in whatever mess Knox has made?

Skye’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “Knox? You okay?” She’s leaning forward again, her hand hovering near his, concern etched into her features.

He forces a nod, his throat tight. “Yeah.” He doesn’t meet her eyes, his gaze fixed on the window where Hunter disappeared. The snow keeps falling, erasing any trace of him, but Knox knows better than to think this is over.

Skye follows his gaze, her expression shifting to concern and confusion. “Knox, if you’re hiding something, I deserve to know,” she says. “I’m in this now, whether you like it or not.”

He looks at her then, really looks at her, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her eyes burn with determination. She’s right. She’s in it now. And as much as he wants to protect her, he’s starting to realize he might not be able to.