Icing on the Lake (9 page)

I smiled at Sean, who was grinning at me. Then I leaned forward and brushed his lips with a kiss.

He didn’t move at first, not that he could. I pulled back for a second and looked at him. He looked a little surprised, like he wasn’t sure about all this. So I leaned down to kiss him again, and he was just starting to kiss me back—

And my cell phone rang.

Cursed!

I
glanced at the caller ID though and saw that it was Jones. What was she doing calling me
now
?

“Sorry, I kind of, kind of have to take this.” I smiled awkwardly at Sean, not that things could get more awkward when you were sitting on top of a boy and you’d just kissed him when you weren’t sure whether that was cool or not. Although he seemed pretty cool about it, since he’d been getting into it when the phone rang.

“Where are you?” she cried when I answered.

“I’m—out,” I said.
Landing on boys and kissing them!

“Well, duh, we know you’re out, silly—Emma and I are at your house looking for you! Gretchen’s house, whatever.”

“You
are
?” I moved aside to let Sean get up and sort of sat in the snow. He stood up and started brushing snow off of himself, then he smiled at me and started to walk back up the hill. The rest of the guys were already halfway up.

“How can you not be home? Gretchen said something about sledding. Who goes sledding anymore, I said. Get your butt over here!” Jones demanded.

“Right now?” I asked.

“Hello, we just drove two and a half hours to see you!”

I laughed. “Okay, Jones. I’ll be right there.” Although your timing stinks, I thought as I flipped my phone closed.

“So. Jones. Is he your boyfriend at home?” Conor asked, trudging toward me in the snow.

“What?” I asked.

“Did he drive down to see you tonight?” Conor asked.

“What are you doing, eavesdropping?” I asked.

“I lost a glove in the snow. I came back to look around for it,” he said. “I heard you talking—sorry.”

“Well. Not that you need to know, but Jones isn’t a guy. She’s Bridget, my best friend from home. She was at the rink with me that first day we met.”

“We met at the lake? When?” he asked.

“You know when,” I said. “You’re just making me say it so that I get embarrassed all over again.”

He just kept looking at me.

“I knocked you down, playing Crack the Whip. You caught me? Then you gave me back my hat?”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” He grinned.

“See, you remembered all along. Anyway, Jones is a girl. Her name is Bridget, so we call her Jones. It’s a book. And a movie.
Bridget Jones’s Diary
?”

“Yes!” He pulled a dark-colored glove out of the snow. “Found it.”

I couldn’t stop glaring at him. “Look, you don’t really think I’d be out here with Sean like this if I was seeing someone back home, do you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. How should I know?”

“That is so insulting I can’t even tell you. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve never
had
a boyfriend, okay?”
And this conversation is getting in the way of me having one now, or ever
! I thought as I walked up the hill toward Sean.

“Well, how should I know?” Conor complained behind me. “I hear Jones, it sounds like a guy. Sue me.”

“Maybe I will,” I muttered as I walked toward Sean. Couldn’t Jones and Emma wait another half hour until I got home? And couldn’t they give me a little advance warning that they were coming? I get one fun sledding night, and they have to show up
now
?

Sean was pulling the toboggan back to the top of the hill, and I walked up beside him. He kicked a clod of snow at me, and I kicked some back.

“A friend from home just called and I have to get going—she’s at the house waiting for me,” I told him.

“Oh, really? That’s too bad,” Sean said. He didn’t suggest leaving with me, and I guess I couldn’t really blame him.

“You can stay,” I said as I glanced at the group of his friends watching us together. “It’s no problem.”

“You sure?” Sean asked.

I nodded. And suddenly I couldn’t wait to get out of there. The way those guys were all looking at me, like they were judging me. Had everyone seen me kiss Sean? And what did they think about it, if they had?

“Yeah—I’ll be fine. See you guys!” I gave a little wave and then wrapped my scarf more tightly around my neck as I turned to walk home.

When I walked off, I heard screaming and I glanced over my shoulder to see them hurtling down the hill on the toboggan, laughing and shouting. I watched them take another huge bump and go flying into the air.

A few minutes later, I thought I sensed someone following me. It was making me really nervous. I looked back and saw a figure in the shadows. “What are you doing?”

“I just want to make sure you’re safe,” Conor replied, walking about ten paces behind me.

“Of course I’m safe,” I said. “I’d feel a lot safer if someone weren’t following me and scaring me to death.”

“Sorry. But you’re going the wrong way.”

“I am? Shoot.”

“It’s this direction.” He pointed to the right.

“Oh.”

“Here. I’ll show you,” he offered. The two of us walked vaguely side by side for a while. “I have to get home to study anyway. I’m taking this lit class at the U, you know? We have an exam at the end of the week.”

“Really? That’s cool.”

“Not really,” he said.

I laughed. “The class, not the exam.”

“Right.” Conor coughed. “So. Are you and Sean like…an item?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I said.

“Can I give you a little advice?” Conor asked.

“On finding gloves in the dark? Or what?” I asked.

“Be careful,” he said. “See…Sean has this way of drawing lots of people to him. And sometimes he hurts people when he doesn’t mean to, because he doesn’t realize.”

“Realize what. He’s popular? I think he knows that,” I said.

“Look. It’s not just about being popular. It’s—whether he really cares about anyone, besides himself. He’s incredibly selfish.”

“And you’re not,” I said.

“Come on, Kirsten. Trust me,” he said.

“Why should I trust you? Over him?”

“Because I have no reason to lie. I’m not involved.”

“But he is your brother,” I said. “And you are walking me home so that you can tell me to stay away from him. Which is
over
-involved, if you ask me.”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

I could hardly look at him, I was so mad. First he thought I was rushing off to see my “hometown honey,” and now what? Was he following me home to make sure I wasn’t? And what was with the criticizing Sean? Brotherly love, it wasn’t.

I was relieved to see Emma’s car parked on the street outside Gretchen’s when we got there. “That’s Emma’s.” I pointed to the Explorer. “She’s here, too.” Maybe I should have had
my friends come out, so I could show him that Jones was in fact a girl. But I didn’t need to prove anything to him. “Emma and Jones. Best friends.”

“Sounds like a musical group. Where do they live?”

“Outside Duluth, like me,” I said.

“You guys have plans for the weekend?” Conor asked.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I said. “Why?”

“Well, we have a club hockey game tomorrow morning. Outside, down at the lake,” Conor said. “It’s kind of a tradition. Playing outdoors like in the old days. Sean’s on one of the clubs and I’m on the other,” he explained.

“Why am I not surprised?” I mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Why wouldn’t he come closer? He insisted on talking to me across the lawn. Was he afraid I’d tackle him again, the way I did when he came here to shovel? “I would say thanks for walking me home,” I said, “but I think it’s more like thanks for following me home.”

“I wasn’t following you,” he said. “I was just being careful.”

“Okay, well, whatever. Thanks,” I said.

“Yeah. Have fun with your friends. Jones, Smith, Bridget Jones, whoever.” Conor turned to walk home, while I laughed, opened the door and slipped inside.

“Who was that guy?” Jones asked. She completely startled me. She’d been standing by the door, watching the two of us say goodnight.

“Oh, him. He’s…he’s…well…see, sometimes he’s kind of a jerk—”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Before I could answer her, Emma came clomping down the stairs in her clogs, arms outstretched for a big hug. “It’s so good to see you!” she cried. “Where have you been?”

Would they even believe me if I told them I was sledding with this guy I like, and I made a move on him?

What if I told them, but it didn’t work out with Sean, and then I’d be embarrassed? There was a certain humiliation factor that I had to avoid, but these were my best friends and I desperately wanted to share. “Well, see, we were sledding and…”

“Sledding. No wonder you’re covered in
snow.” Emma brushed at the back of my jeans. “You’re not going to
believe
what happened today.”

“No kidding! First of all,” Jones said under her breath, “we’ve been here for half an hour already making small talk with Gretchen. She tried to serve us those nasty health crackers.”

I got my secret stash of chips from the kitchen and we grabbed some cans of pop and headed upstairs to my room. Emma immediately launched into a story about how she and Cameron had a huge screaming fight in the middle of school, and how the weekend was off now, except that now Kyle wanted to take her, but she didn’t really like Kyle that way except that he had given her lots of nice presents….

As usual, we started inundating her with questions, and advice. Neither one asked any more about my situation.

In a way, that was okay, because I thought maybe I would ruin it by talking about it. Sometimes something so good happens that you’re afraid to jinx it by saying it out loud.

“Ten to one they get back together tomorrow,” Jones said as she snuggled into her sleeping bag on the floor at about two o’clock in the morning. I’d given Emma my bed, and I was sacked out on an airbed beside Jones.

“Ten to one? More like one to ten,” I said, and Jones laughed.

“I am so beat. I bet I fall asleep in five minutes,” Jones said.

“Me too,” I agreed, pulling the blanket up around my neck and adjusting the pillow.

I closed my eyes and thought about the night I’d had. I loved going sledding with Sean; even more, I loved the fact that I’d kissed him, and that he’d seemed interested.

But I couldn’t get over the fact that Sean had also looked sort of stunned, as if what I did was too forward. Like we were just friends.

It wasn’t as if Sean didn’t enjoy spending time with me, because we’d done a lot together, and there was definitely an attraction between us. Wasn’t there?

So why had he looked so surprised when I first kissed him? Was it just because all his
friends were around?

I wished I could fall asleep thinking about what a great kiss it had been—because it
had
been—instead of worrying about what he thought about the kiss.

I knew what I thought about it. I wanted to kiss him again. Soon.

“D
idn’t we meet him the last time we were here?” Jones asked as Sean skated past us at the lake, wearing full hockey regalia, passing the puck to another player.

“Didn’t he kick us off the ice?”

“Not exactly,” Emma said. “I think we left on our own.”

I laughed. “Maybe we did, but it was strongly suggested that we take off.”

We’d arrived while the hockey game was in progress, because it took us forever to get going in the morning. We sat around talking and watching stupid things on TV for too long, so we couldn’t get anywhere at a decent hour. There was a fairly large crowd standing around the rink watching the game with us. A
chalkboard perched on a chair had the score at 1-1.

“But is that the guy who helped you up when you crashed?” Emma asked.

I nodded. “That’s Sean.”

“Holy cow is he good,” Jones said as he skated past again. “So, is that the guy who was talking to you last night?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s his brother.”

“I’m confused.” Emma sipped her cup of coffee. “Which one is which?”

It was hard to identify any of the players because they had so much hockey gear on, including helmets and goalie masks. “Sean’s brother’s name is Conor. He’s playing goalie in that end. He’s on the opposite club from Sean.”

“That’s weird,” Emma said.

“They’re competitive. They have what you’d call a strained relationship,” I explained.

“Sounds like a lot of brothers I know,” Jones commented. “So. Are they both hot?” she asked.

I laughed. “Conor is obnoxious. Conceited. Rude,” I said.

“And?”

“Hot,” I admitted.

She nodded and a smile spread across her face. “Uh huh. Apple doesn’t fall far from the…tree. Or the other apples. Whatever.”

Emma and I cracked up.

“So, Kirst, which one are you bringing to the cabin?” Emma asked.

I laughed. “Neither, yet! God, you guys. I barely just got here.”

“Yes, true, but you’ve made excellent progress,” Jones said. “So invite Sean already.”

“I can’t,” I said.

“Why can’t you?” Emma asked. “What if someone else asks him first?”

“No one else at home knows him,” I pointed out. “How are they going to—”

“You know what I mean. He could be busy that weekend. I’d ask him, like,
today
,” Emma said.

“How about now?” Jones suggested. Emma and Jones tried pushing me out onto the ice, but I pushed back, holding my ground.

Suddenly I spotted Conor. The teams were taking breaks, and he had slid his goalie mask up on his head and was looking over at us. He reached onto the top of the net for his water
bottle. I waved at him, but he either didn’t see me, or just wanted to act as if he didn’t know me. Whatever. He was being strange, which for him, was acting in character.

“That’s Conor,” I explained.

“Man, you’ve been working hard since you got here. How many other guys do you know?” Emma asked. I’d actually managed to impress her.

“No, the question is: How many other brothers do they have, and are they our age?” Jones asked.

“Ha!” I laughed. “No, it’s just the two of them.”

“Okay, well, how about if you choose one and I’ll take the other,” Jones said.

“What
about
you? You invited anyone to the cabin yet?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“I may have hinted at it,” she said. “I may have suggested that Chris
topher
think about leaving that weekend open, just in case something comes up.”

“Jones! You’re mean,” I said. “You shouldn’t lead him on.”

“I’m not leading him
on
,” she said. “I may be leading him
astray
, but I’m not leading him on.”

“What’s the difference?” I asked.

“I don’t imply anything. See, I’m inviting him as my friend, not my boyfriend. He just hasn’t realized that yet.”

“Well, tell him. Because I don’t want to spend the whole weekend trying to cheer him up,” I said.

“Of course not. You’ll be busy with Mr. Wonderful.”

I looked out at the ice and watched Sean skate. “February second,” I murmured. “Darn. That’s getting close, isn’t it?”

We stood in silence, sipping our coffee and watching the game for a few minutes. I couldn’t get over how good both Sean and Conor were. Sean was skating at top speed, and he made some incredibly great passes. But whenever he or his teammates made a shot on goal, Conor blocked it. Conor’s team wasn’t quite as good, so the puck ended up in his end of the rink
more often than not.

Sean got a pass from the right wing and tried to flick the puck into the upper corner of the goal. It hit the post and bounced back, without going in. Sean jammed at it with his skates, then took a shot, his hockey stick nearly colliding right with Conor’s head.

It was a goal.

It was also bloody murder.

Conor dropped his stick and they started to wrestle, pushing and shoving against each other. Conor whipped off his big, thick goalie gloves and punched Sean, just as Sean was trying to slug him.

Pretty soon the rest of the guys were involved, either fighting and punching, too, or trying to pull Sean and Conor off of each other before anyone got too badly hurt.

Watching players fight during a hockey game is not unusual. My dad always says, “We went to a fight and a hockey game broke out.”

Most of the time, we’d probably applaud loudly and cheer them on—that’s what we do at our high school games, especially if someone
on the opposing team ends up getting both pummeled and also time in the penalty box for it.

But this was Sean. Someone was trying to punch Sean’s
face
. His very nice, very good-looking face. Before my friends could get another really good look at it and be suitably impressed.

And Conor—I thought I could see that he was bleeding. And yelling. And Sean was yelling back and trying to take another swing.

“Come on, guys. Break it up, break it up!” One of the adult refs finally managed to get them apart. There was a short, official timeout, and Emma, Jones and I looked at each other uneasily.

“As I said, they’re just a tiny bit competitive,” I said.

“Typical,” Jones sighed.

I watched Sean sitting in the makeshift penalty box (a couple of folding chairs), holding ice to his eye. Near the goal, a friend of Conor’s was handing him a towel to clean off his face. Then he skated off and had to sit next to Sean.
They’d both gotten penalties for fighting.

The game continued after a brief intermission to reset the goal posts, but we spent most of the time talking, and not watching. Sean didn’t score another goal, but one of his teammates did, making the final score 3-1.

“Would you guys mind going on ahead?” I asked when the final whistle blew. “I want to go talk to Sean for a sec. And I kind of want to do it in private.”

“Are you going to ask him about the cabin weekend?” Jones said excitedly.

I shook my head. “Not right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because—he’s totally injured and I want to see if he’s okay and—I’m just not.” Also, because I’m petrified. Because I’m all about procrastination.

“Do it,” Emma urged, giving my arm a squeeze. “We’ll be waiting in the car, which is way over there.” She pointed across the parking lot. “So don’t sweat it, we won’t be watching you and making you nervous. Take your time.”

Should
I ask him now? I wondered as I
started to walk over to the warming hut, where Sean had headed after the game. Maybe this was the perfect time, and not a bad time after all. He’d be extra vulnerable, what with the stitches he might need. I could drive him to the hospital. Those kinds of bonds—emotional ones, not stitches—lasted forever.

I was all smiles as I started to open the door and saw Sean sitting on the bench where he’d removed my skates when my feet were frozen solid.

Before I could step into the building, I saw a short girl with long, brown hair come up to Sean. She put her hands on his legs and leaned against him, practically crawling onto his lap. “Are you okay?” I heard her coo. And Sean smiled at her, and then she moved even closer.

Before he could see me, I let the door slam and turned around as quickly as I could.

Oh, God. “New city, new year, new Kirsten.” Yeah, right. No, same old Kirsten, perpetually single. Cursed. I wasn’t going to have a date for the cabin weekend. I wasn’t going to have a real boyfriend, period. Ever. I started running,
keeping my head down to hide how upset I was, and crashed right into someone.

“What’s wrong?” Conor held my arm to keep me from falling.

“Nothing,” I said.

My eyes filled with tears, which I willed to stop because I didn’t want Conor to see, and I didn’t want them to freeze in my eyes or on my cheeks, either. The thing that really sucks about crying in the winter is that when your tears fall, they form little icicles on your cheeks.

“Are you okay? You look weird,” he said.

“Thanks. Great compliment,” I said, hating my voice for being so shaky. “It’s the wind, that’s all. My eyes always water when it’s cold and windy.”

Conor hadn’t let go of me yet. The next thing I knew, he leaned down from his skates-height to brush a tear from my cheek. There was a big spark when his hand touched my face, from the static electricity.

“Don’t—what—” I sputtered, pulling away from him.

“I—I’m sorry. You just—you looked so sad.”

“What is with you? You hate me. You do nothing but make fun of me. Now you’re done beating up Sean, and you try to kiss me?”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t going to kiss you,” he said. “God, you can be so vain.”

“Then what were you doing?” I asked.

“You looked upset. I was trying to, like—I don’t know,” he said.

“Well, I don’t know either. But whatever it was, forget it,” I said.

“Fine. Don’t feel better.”

“Good. I won’t!” I said. Then I wondered what I was bragging about. “See you later. No, wait. On second thought, maybe not.” I darted around him and ran for Emma’s waiting SUV.

Now what? The only good thing about my encounter with Conor was that it had distracted me for a second from feeling as awful as I had when I saw Sean with that girl.

The sight of the two of them came back into my mind. They’d been too close—way too close—to have been just friends. So did he have a girlfriend? Why hadn’t he told me, if he did? God, how awful. No wonder he’d
looked surprised when I kissed him.

“So? What happened?” Emma asked as I climbed into the front passenger seat. Jones was sprawled on the back seat, her feet up.

“Nothing,” I said. This could potentially have been the biggest day of all time in my love life, I was thinking. And it was, but not the way I wanted or expected.

“Kirst? You okay?” Jones asked.

“Oh, sure. Fine.” I managed a small smile.

“Did you ask him?” Emma said.

“No, I—I didn’t get a chance. Too many people were around,” I said. Especially the pretty one with long brown hair.

If I’d had anything to tell them about, beforehand, about me and Sean, now I wasn’t sure what was going on with us. Did I have a prospect, or didn’t I?

Jones leaned forward and rested her chin on the back of my seat. “I thought I saw you with goalie boy just now.”

I glared at her over my shoulder. “You said you weren’t going to spy.”

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“We were just talking. It was nothing,” I said.

“Oh. Okay. Well, who’s up for lunch?” Jones asked.

Somehow I couldn’t imagine summoning much of an appetite.