Hainsey

It's eleven by the time Ems and I are both too tired to play any more hockey. After racing each other a few times – me actually beating her a couple times – we took some shots on net. For how long Ems avoided playing hockey, she's still got some well-set skills other than the speed. Her wrist-shot will always manage to strike me in the heart – it's about as wicked as her attitude.

We're both sitting on the bench, unlacing our skates, when Ems says, "Hey, Hains?"

I look up at her, but not before I look at the skates she's wearing. I do my best to stop myself from smiling like an idiot. Giving those skates to her was the hardest decision I ever made – I loved those skates so much, but when I realized my feet had grown too much I didn't have much of a choice. I suppose I could've kept them for sentimental reasons at the time. It's just that Ems had practically drooled over them when I wore them to practice the first day I got them. It seemed like the better option because at least they'd be used. And now that I see she's still using them, I couldn't have made a better decision.

"Yeah?" I ask.

Ems pulls her bottom lip slightly between her teeth. "I was, um, wondering if maybe I could come over some time. I would like to see your mom – it's been years."

My stomach drops. Of course this is what she would want. I knew it would come up at some point. I just didn't expect it so soon. What am I supposed to tell her? I can't come out right here, right now and say what's going on behind the scenes. Not after a night like tonight.

"Yeah, of course," I lie, trying my best to sound casual. I pray that she can't pick up on my slight tone of anxiety. "I'll have to check with Mom, though – work can get pretty busy." I almost burst out laughing. Work? My mom hasn't worked for the past three years. No, wait. I guess she has. She's worked on getting the best high possible.

I hate the lie. I hate that I'm lying to my girlfriend. This fucking sucks. I should tell her – we're alone with no one around. But there's something holding me back. Maybe it's because I'm scared of what she'll think of me, how I'm acting as an enabler and have given up on trying to find someone who can help Mom.

But Ems smiles at me. A big fucking smile that makes me momentarily forget everything. "Okay!" She reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Well, you have my number now, so just give me a call."

I smile weakly at her and nod. "Yeah. I'll do that."

I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't keep her away from my house forever – we're neighbours, for God's sake!

Ems kicks off her worn skates and slips on her runners, and then stands, grabbing her bag.

"Well," she says, stepping closer. "I have to get going – Mom's going to be wondering where I am and I promised I'd call Dad. Since Rosa and I are both gone, he went over to Europe for some business thing."

"How's your dad, by the way?" I ask.

Ems smiles. "He's good. When things first went flying off the fucking rail, he wasn't really himself, but things have gotten a lot better. I think me and Rosa being there helped him a lot with getting through what my mom did, y'know?" She pauses. "It really sucks he's not here – he would have loved to see you."

I cringe at the way she sneers the word "mom." I know I shouldn't – her mom said some pretty nasty shit about her, but at least she has a mom that cares for her deep down. Really deep down. Even if my mom treated me like Ems's mom treated her, I'd be happy. I guess that's what happens when your mom is barely present due to a devastating addiction.

But I don't say anything. If I make it look like I'm siding with her mom, she's going to demand an explanation, which is something I don't want to do right now even though it would be the correct thing to do.

So all I do is nod my head and say, "Yeah, that does suck. I've always loved your dad."

Ems smiles again, making my heart stutter. God, she's got a beautiful smile. I wonder if she knows how beautiful it is. I wonder if she knows how beautiful she is. I wish there were a way I could tell her without making it sound so cliché and...normal. This girl is anything but normal.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Hains," Ems says.

Longing punches me in the gut – I wish we could stay here forever, caught up in this little moment of infinity where nothing but hockey and the two of us exists. Damn, I'm starting to think, now that we're older, maybe we should occupy one of those boxcars in the middle of the forest. Wouldn't be too bad compared to what goes on at home.

For a moment, I think she's going to leave without kissing me. I know I shouldn't want one so badly, but I can't help it. Ems is like what heroin is to my mom: the best form of intoxication to ever exist on the planet.

After slinging her purse over her shoulder she walks up to me, and props herself up on her tiptoes, cupping my face in the process. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. All she's doing is touching me and I already feel like I'm on the edge of a freaking cliff.

And then she kisses me.

It starts off simple and gentle, but I feel it warm my entire body and I need more. I grab her waist and lift her up, gesturing for her to wrap her legs around my waist. She quickly obliges, wrapping her legs around my waist and pressing her body hard against mine. I stifle a moan as I pin her against the Plexiglas behind the bench. Shit. At this rate, a cold shower is not going to solve my tent problem. And Ems knows this because she giggles and presses harder. This time, I do groan, parting my lips and inviting her in. She doesn't hesitate, just like I expected, and her mouth tastes like fruity gum. Suffice to say, I can't get enough.

While the kiss becomes more frantic, I take my time to slide my hand up her shirt and trace her spine. Ems shivers, and it only makes my body react more. And the fact that she's running her fingers through my hair and slightly tugging does nothing to help. Don't get me wrong, I fucking love it, but I'm embarrassed. Girls are lucky shit like this doesn't happen to them.

I'm ready to take this to the next step – maybe on the bench or in the locker room showers – but Ems pulls away, her cheeks pink and her lips swollen from all the kissing. She giggles, and then tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. We stare at each other for a moment, both grinning like idiots, and then I let her down.

Ems gathers her belongings, and then flashes me one last grin before exiting the bench area and heading back into the locker room. I'm tempted to run after her – there's no way in hell she should be allowed to leave me like this. But I don't. She's got somewhere to be, and so do I.

Sighing, I lean against the cool Plexiglas that I had Ems pinned against moments ago. I'm agitated in a good yet mildly painful way. I wish she'd stayed a little longer. We could've done...something. I don't know. All I know is that this is not the place I'd want my first time to be.

I sigh again.

Maybe it's a good thing she left – the two of us tend to lose control when we're around each other. Guess it's all that time we lost catching up with us.

Still, though...the fact that she left me hanging like this...A cold shower is never going to work.

I close my eyes and sigh for the third time.

"Goddamn blue balls," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

* * *

When I get home, the first thing I do is check on my mom. As usual, she's asleep on the couch. I don't want to look at the coffee table – I already know what it's going to look like – yet I still do. The sight of a lighter, tin foil, and syringes makes me sick to my stomach, but not as sick as the sight of an empty plastic baggie makes me feel.

"Fuck," I curse under my breath. Mom is going to lose it tomorrow if she doesn't have what she needs. The last thing I want to do is make the call and drive to the edge of town, cash in my wallet, to buy heroin from a drug dealer. It's a habit that's starting to get old. And the more I do it, the more guilt I feel for not telling Ems the truth.

I consider what Val has said to me multiple times about cutting my mom off cold turkey and helping get her back to sobriety. Or finding someone to help her. It's what I should do, and it's what any sane person would do. So why can I not work up the courage to do it?

I yawn and rub my face, feeling ten times more tired than I did when I arrived. Tired. That's all I ever am when I'm home. This house drains my energy just like listening to my parents fight and argue did. When is it going to stop? Is it ever going to stop?

With a subtle shake of my head, I exit the living room and make my way to my bedroom upstairs to make the call.

Maybe one day this will end and I'll be free of the chains that are holding me back. But for now, this is my life and this is how I have to get by.