September had ended, and I gladly woke up. October meant hockey season, and Viktor's first game of the season was that day. I didn't know most of the rest of the guys on the team, besides Matt's friend and Madison High School's team captain a few years prior, David, but I was a quick learner, and I knew I'd figure it all out soon enough.

I barely paid attention in any of my classes, since the endocrine system wasn't nearly as interesting as hockey.

That evening, the Winterview Wildcats (a horrible name, yes, but it made for endless High School Musical references) would play their first men's hockey game of the season.

It wasn't even an "official" game. It was a preseason tournament. But I didn't care one bit. I was dying to know how much Viktor had grown in the year I couldn't help him.

I showed up with a notebook and a variety of gel pens to take notes on every little thing I noticed. I wasn't even sure if Viktor cared about my opinion anymore, but there was nothing he could do to stop me from tearing his game apart if I had to. If he was going to need my help to get him drafted, then he'd have to live with every ounce of help I gave him, in its cold, brutal, natural state.

Their uniforms were actually some of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, especially the home ones, which were white with small streaks of gold under the arms, and a golden-outlined W as the logo on the chest.

My favorite one was that 50.

It was an odd switch for Viktor, since he had worn the number 19 up until he hit college, but even though he never told me what it was about, I had a guess.

It was my list: 50 Things I Can Tolerate About You.

It meant more to him than he'd ever let me know, but it wasn't particularly hard to tell that by his face when he read it.

It even melted my heart for just a moment, then it froze right back up again. We were in Minnesota, after all.

The guys took the ice, and I studied all the new numbers and names I'd have to memorize. I didn't mind that, of course, since I was always a numbers girl.

50= Viktor (GOAT)

1= Goalie person (has a totally awesome mask)

4= Defenseman that's actually kind of adorable (reminds me of Blaine a little, but more coordinated)

15= David (super cool, but still a loser)

I already had a few of the players down, and with the puck about to be dropped, I turned the page in my notebook and got out the prettiest pen out of all of them: the purple sparkly one.

Viktor wasn't a starter anymore, since he was only a sophomore, so I'd have to wait a little bit to write something down. It was my goal to write one note per shift, and with one shift approximately every three minutes (excluding any power plays or penalty kills), divided from sixty minutes, was twenty notes.

Which meant that I could use twenty pens out of my thirty-six.

I was a gel pen enthusiast, and to be completely honest, I was more excited about using my pens than what I was supposed to be writing.

But Viktor didn't need to know. As long as he thought that he was my primary motivation, we'd be okay.

I titled the paper, "What team? Wildcats!" and watched as the game began.

The first couple minutes of the game didn't end in anything good for either team, and when the puck was frozen by the opposing goalie, Viktor skated on to the ice.

I missed that sight just a little too much, and seeing him where he belonged was like a little piece of home for me.

He took the faceoff against the other team, who played it back to their corner.

Tip number one: Win your fucking faceoffs.

I admired how pretty it looked written in my shitty, purple sparkly handwriting, then looked up at the game.

What I had noticed most about Viktor's skating style a few years prior was that every stride looked like it took a shit ton of work, but that wasn't the case so much anymore. He looked smoother, but he hadn't lost any of the speed that came with it.

This new style was incredible to watch, but I had no idea where it came from. He spent a year in hands that could offer more than I ever could, and I wasn't sure what to think of it.

I wanted to help him, but with this new information, I realized I wasn't all that good at it. There wasn't much I could fix, except his work ethic.

He got a shot on goal that shift, but other than that, there wasn't much production from his line.

I kind of felt like shit.

I had always known that this was a whole new level that was way over my head, but I didn't think that they could fix him up in a year, when all I could do in that amount of time was convince him that he could play.

That was all I had ever done for him, despite him thinking that I could come up with a solution to any problem in two point seven seconds.

I wondered what else these hockey wizards did for him. They probably fixed his shot, too, and he never missed the net anymore.

It made my job of getting him drafted easier, but it took a lot of the fun out of it too.

I hated it.

But I continued my list of things I noticed, even though they would probably be second place to whatever his coach told him.

***

The game ended, the final score 4-1 Winterview.

Yay. Winning.

I was amazed at what Viktor had become, but I was also a little upset that I wasn't the one that did it for him. He looked incredible, and everything was much more graceful, controlled, and poised than it ever had been before.

I loved it, but I hated it so, so much.

I sat just outside the arena building on the sidewalk that sent a chill through me, and I waited for Viktor, the pretty list in my hand.

I read through the list of tips again, and most of them were positive, like "Continue the backchecking. It really helps the defensemen".

Like he didn't already know that.

I searched for one that could maybe prove to be helpful to him, and I found two that were criticisms that maybe no one else would tell him.

One was, "Chat with your linemates on the bench. It can't hurt anything, probably, and it'll build a little bit of chemistry," and the other was, "Don't be afraid to play physical. Slash people, hit people. I know you like to be nice, but there's a time and place for that. A hockey game isn't one of them."

I waited as other players came out of the arena, and I waved at David. He waved back.

Viktor was always particular (perhaps it came from his superstitious nature) about his postgame ritual, and he took a little longer than others.

I waited for ten more minutes, then stood up, since the walkway was too cold on my butt anyway.

A couple more minutes passed. Still no Viktor.

It was becoming a habit with him. I didn't know why he just seemed to forget about me, but I figured that his absentmindedness was kicking in, and with a million other things on his mind, I didn't occupy as much space in there as I once did.

I took one last look at my list and let out a sigh.

If he didn't want my help, then it wasn't my problem. With other people who knew more than me, my thoughts probably didn't mean as much as they used to.

It made my life easier, but I didn't want that. I loved the chaos that he gave me.

I walked back to my dorm, reminding myself that I did nothing wrong, and if he wanted to explain what the fuck was going on, he would.

And if he didn't, well, what else was new?

It was just another difference between us. Where I tried to be open about my thoughts, he didn't mind keeping a few secrets. I didn't think it was out of malice, but since he thought the world would do whatever it could for him, he thought the world lived inside his mind. But we didn't.

When I got back to my room, it was quiet, since Jackie wasn't there. I didn't mind, and the thought of sleeping for ten hours sounded pretty damn good to me. I got ready for bed, even though it wasn't even ten o'clock, but I couldn't fall asleep.

Thanks, brain.

Blaine would be awake, since he was just as fucked up as me, so I texted him. "You awake? If not, you need to wake the fuck up because I said so."

His reply came quickly. "Wtf do you want??"

I smiled. "I need you to pay attention to me, since no one else will."

"Poor baby. How will you ever survive?"

"Can I call you?" I asked.

"Yes??? You don't even have to ask???"

I always liked his excessive punctuation. It was just as extra as he was.

I called him, and he picked up. "You better not be having emotional problems. I can't fight anyone from here."

I laughed. "I'm not having emotional problems. And you would absolutely get your ass kicked."

I shouldn't have missed him the most, but I did.

"I'd gladly get my ass kicked for you," he said.

"You're just the sweetest thing ever, but I'd kill you if Viktor kicked your ass. You're supposed to be defending my honor, and—"

"Viktor?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been conveniently forgetting about me lately."

"You could've started with that, you know. Let me get my shovel, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"No, we don't have to kill him. I think he's just busy, plus he's pretty absentminded anyway, so it's just a little lonely. But whatever. I'll live."

That was true, but I wasn't going to be happy about it.

"What about your roommate? Don't you like her?" he asked.

"I do, but when Viktor's gone, she's MIA too." I paused. "Oh, look at that. There's my answer. God fucking dammit."

"You're being replaced again."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Yep. Fuck. I told him no, and this is what I fucking get. He can't be serious."

No. Why the fuck couldn't he handle a simple "no"?

Blaine sighed. "That's kind of shitty of him."

"Yeah. It's really fucking shitty. Goddammit, why didn't I think of that before? Jackie kind of likes him, and I was too fucking stupid to figure it out."

"I'll mail you the shovel. What's your address and dorm number?" he asked.

I rubbed my eyes. "Don't worry about the shovel. I'm just pissed that neither one of them told me. First, Viktor kept that stupid 'Amanda Jayne for Dummies' thing you wrote from me, now this. I don't get it."

"That was pretty funny, wasn't it?"

"It was fucking hilarious. He got me pineapples and coconuts and made me go outside when it was raining. But you know what he also did? Gave me up, let me down, ran around, and deserted me. Not fucking cool."

"So what are you going to do about it? Yell at him?"

"That's naturally step one, yes, but it's like, I don't want to ruin everything over this. I don't think I could ever stop caring about him. God, I'm so weak."

No one had ever told Viktor no in his entire life, until I did. He didn't know how to deal with it, and his reaction was to find someone else who wouldn't tell him no. Jackie.

All those times, every morning he came by our dorm, it wasn't for me.

He was a fucking liar. A traitorous liar.

And I still couldn't bring myself to hate him.

"I'm sure you don't want my opinion, but I'm gonna give it to you anyway. I'd say you should just be straight-up about it. Back him into a corner. Tell him what the fuck is up," Blaine said. "It's what you do best."

"Mhm. We'll see how that goes. I'll give you the full transcript as soon as I'm done. I'm expecting some quality analysis from you."

He laughed. "Don't worry. I got you. I've been missing your overreactions and outbursts."

"You haven't replaced me yet, have you?" I asked.

"Nope. Probably never will."

I smiled. "I'm pretty goddamn lucky, huh?"

"Yep. Count your blessings, Amanda. I'm pretty fucking great."

"God, I love you."

He paused for a moment, like he always did after I said that. "I love you too."

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Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing well, because you deserve it (probably, I don't know). Thank you for reading! I'm not particularly happy with this chapter (this story is much faster paced than The Exchange, and I'm still trying to figure it out), so feel free to let me know your thoughts.

So is Amanda jumping to conclusions again, or is she right?