"induratize"

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(verb) An obsolete word and beautiful feeling, this heartbreaking act is the manifestation of hardening one's heart. This is a side-effect from pain; it is a way of emotional self-preservation. Just because one has induratized, it does not mean you have chosen to become numb from love or emotions, it is a form of self-protection. We prefer that everybody guards their heart but with a soft coating, rather than a hard one.

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When the weekend comes, I welcome it with open arms. I don't have training sessions on Saturday and Sunday. I only have them if Sofia or Gilbert couldn't make it on any other day scheduled. And on this weekend, I'm completely free.

But even on the days that I don't have training sessions, I usually still go to the ice hall and skate for hours. I have nothing to do at home, anyway.

Miles usually comes to visit me, or he picks me up and we go to his place. We can at least watch the TV there, which I can't say for my place because I don't even own the TV anymore. I don't have anything that causes me unnecessary costs.

After my morning workout and my breakfast, I finally bring myself to the decision that it's time I sort out the bills that are lying unopened on my kitchen table.

I find the hospital bills first and open them. There are exact three of them, just like the doctor said. All three of them unopened, each of them with a number so high it makes me gasp. Where the hell will I get so much money?

I open the other ones. I note that I have to pay electricity, too, if I don't want to stay without it for the next month.

I fear what's it going to be when winter comes. I won't be able to pay so much to keep myself warm and this house is cold by itself since it's built in a place where there's barely any sun in the autumn and winter.

I put the bills in two piles; the ones who are the most important ones and should be paid immediately, and the ones that can wait some more. It doesn't make me feel any better. If anything, it makes me feel even worse, seeing the proof of how bad it's gotten.

I rub my temples and rest my head in my hands, letting out a tired sigh.

When I hear the knocking at the front door, I smile because I already have a feeling it's Miles behind that door. And I'm right.

He stands there with his casual old jeans that have been washed one too many times and a blue shirt with a jacket over it. Miles is an attractive man, someone I could easily like if only I'd let myself. But I carry too much luggage with me and I don't think anyone's prepared to deal with that. Even I can't deal with it at times.

"Miles! Hey," I say happily, glad that he came. I am in need of some company and distraction, which Miles can easily provide. It's never boring when we're hanging out together.

"Ana Lee," he greets me back with a charming smile. "I wanted to come in the morning, just in case you decided to go to the ice hall before I could even come to see you."

Communicating with each when we weren't together other wasn't so easy. I couldn't just pick up my phone and call him whenever I wanted to hang out with him or to tell him I'm not going to be at home. The problem is that I don't own a phone. I put it on the list of unnecessary costs.

It's not easy being without a phone today, but I've managed. And Miles knows me enough by now to assume when I'm going somewhere or where I am. Sometimes he even comes to wait for me outside the ice hall until I finish.

I know that Miles is the one that's making the most sacrifices to keep our friendship healthy. He's trying really hard, and if I had any power, I'd try a little harder, too, but it seems like sometimes, I can't offer him much more. But he's still content, he never complains. He appreciates the time we can be together.

I do, too. Miles has been a really great support for me, an awesome friend that anyone could wish for. I can always count on him to be there whenever I need him. Sadly, he probably can't say the same for me. He understands I have a busy schedule, he knows my situation and often beats himself about how he wants to help me, but he can't.

He's got his own job and life to worry about. But I'm grateful for him, he really means a lot to me, and I tell him this as many times as I can, just so he doesn't forget it. I appreciate everything he's done for me, which is a lot.

"I actually wanted to go to the ice hall in the afternoon today. I'm feeling a bit lazy," I tell Miles, inviting him in. I'm already past the shame of having him in my small home.

Miles's eyes widen. "You? Lazy?" he asks with nothing but disbelief.

I chuckle. "Believe it or not, Roxwell, I get lazy sometimes, too. But don't tell anyone. It's a secret." I wink at him.

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." He winks back.

When I offer him something to drink, he shakes his head. "I want to invite you to lunch today. In a restaurant," he says pointedly.

I frown at him and then look at the clock. "It's 11?" I say unsurely.

"The time is relative. Come one."

I follow him and grumble, "You know how much I hate when you have to pay for our meals."

Miles understands I'm not really bathing in money right at the moment. He always tells me I could pay him back one day whenever he pays for something. And I always feel bad afterwards. I was never the one who liked receiving more than giving. I think both is equally important, but receiving things always put me in an uncomfortable position.

And now, the circumstances are forcing me to ask for help to get through this. I clearly can't handle it by myself anymore.

Miles takes me to the small restaurant we often go to when he comes pick me up. We try to go there before he drives me to work sometimes, because he always repeats that he doesn't like the thought of me going hungry. He also often comments on my bad eating habit.

Truth is, I often don't find time to eat, or I just forget to do it. But that's kind of a positive way, too, since I have to watch I eat so I don't gain any weight. So, this way, I don't really have much trouble with it.

"You decided to keep skating, then?" Miles asks me, trying to sound nonchalant, but I can hear the poorly hidden curiosity behind his words.

"I'll always skate. If not professionally, I'll do it for my own enjoyment and entertainment. It's a part of me and I don't think I could just stop doing this."

"But there's an issue with money," Miles says.

"But there's an issue with money," I confirm, sighing. All of this thinking about money is draining so much energy from me. It's leaving me exhausted, my head feels like it's going to explode any minute. It's hard searching for a solution when you don't even know where to start to look at first.

I see the deep frown marking Miles's face. He's frustrated. And I know it's because he desperately wants to help me, but he doesn't know how to. And, just like I believe it would do to me, it's tearing him. I knew that if he was in the same situation, it'd be killing me, knowing me that my best friend isn't getting the life and the happiness he deserves.

"Let's talk about something else. Have you met anyone new this week? Went out with any new attractive girl you want to talk to me about?" I grin, trying to lift the sour mood to fell between us.

Miles's mouth perks up at the corners. "Ana Lee, you know that other women don't even come to your knees in attractiveness. Even less in personality," Miles's says flirtatiously.

I roll my eyes and huff. "Please! Like you even give them a chance to meet each other enough to see what kind of personality they have," I joke.

Miles's mouth falls open. "I'm offended you think I'm that shallow!" he says with laughter shining right from his eyes.

I cock my head to the side, raising my eyebrows mockingly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, then," I challenge him.

"Well ... there were plenty of them that I got to know," Miles's waves his hands around.

I sit back on the chair and cross my arms in front of me. "Uh-hu. Have I met any of them?"

Miles opens his mouth before he closes it again. "Well. No." He frowns. "But that doesn't mean I didn't try with them."

"I thought you'd introduce a woman you were trying to have a serious relationship with to your best friend, but what do I know?" I shrug, grinning from ear to ear when his frown deepens. I put my palms on top of Miles's, squeezing them. "I'm just joking," I say softly.

Miles nodes. "I know that," he says, but it looks like he's thinking about something. "But maybe you're right, you know. I didn't give any woman a true chance to prove herself."

"To prove herself," I repeat with a huff. "I don't think if anyone told you that, but women don't have to prove to men they're good enough for them," the feminist inside of me speaks out loud and clear.

Miles chuckles. "Maybe that's why I haven't given any other woman a chance."

My eyebrows draw together. "I don't get it."

Miles blinks lazily. "I think, deep down, I know we're meant to end up together, sweetheart." He gives me a creepy smile, sneaking his hand to mine and placing it on top of it.

I quickly snatch it away and give him a look. Miles throws his head back and laughs. "If only you were as easy to win over as they are," he notes wistfully.

I only shake my head at him. I know he's just joking. But there's always something about him, perhaps of the way he looks at me, that I sometimes question if this is really just a joke for him ...

Miles was kind enough to drive me to the ice hall. He was also kind enough to offer to wait for me. I kindly declined, even though he said there wouldn't be any problem. He added that he likes watching me skate.

But I told him that he watched me too many times already and he'd just get bored soon.

In all truth, there was another reason I didn't want him to stay. It might be rude and inconsiderable, but I remembered Zach Crawford's words. How he wants to skate with me every evening.

And a small part of me, that part that's starting to grow every time I see that popular hockey player, wanted to be alone with him.

The last time we skated together, I felt so carefree, even daring. It was like I threw my skin off and finally let out my true personality. It both surprised and scared me how easy I opened up to him and joked around with him. Only Miles gets to see that side of me.

I'm not really the one who trusts people with ease and opens up to them. That's basically why Miles is the only friend I have. But he never gave up on me. He understood the things I haven't said out loud.

I also found out how fast people get discouraged when they don't get what they want in a short time. I need time to start trusting new people and a lot of them just can't understand that. They think if they're easy-going, that others will be, too.

I sit on the bench and tie my skates, breathing in the cold air around me. I spend so much time here, I could basically call it my second home.

Skating has forever been something I loved to do. When I was a kid, I remember being in awe of all those figure skaters on the TV. I admired them even at a young age. And when, as a small kid, I told my parents my dream is to become a successful skater, they did not laugh at me and brush it off.

They helped me chase my dream. Until everything fell down. My dreams. My hopes. My family.

But skating stayed, still being my pleasure, still something I'd feel empty if I couldn't do. And I know that if I put my dreams aside, again, that doesn't mean I'll have to stop skating. I can skate for how much I can, I just can't go to the competitions since I can't really coach myself.

I step on the ice and I can feel myself relaxing. I feel the tension disappearing from my shoulders. This is my sanctuary. My safe place.

I don't know for how long I skate. I know it's for hours because my muscles start to ache and I have a feeling it's already pretty dark outside. But Zach still hasn't shown up. And I try - I really do - not to be disappointed in that.

He could be only joking, after all. Or he's got other obligations. It's Saturday evening. It's stupid of me to expect him to spend the evening here with me, on the ice.

But, damn it, if I didn't look forward to our session. I stop myself at the side, placing my hands on the glass, breathing hard, trying to catch my breath.

Zach Crawford planted a seed of hope inside of me. But he just forgot to water it. And hoping is a dangerous thing to do. It's something that can either heal you or destroy you. And in this case, I already have a feeling which one is it going to win at the end.

Hey, babes! Thank you for reading this story! I can't believe it already made it to wattpad's romance 'what's hot' list! Thank you xx

Also, if you want to read more, head to radish where I just posted chapter 14 :) 

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