Fifteen minutes have passed since the end of the school day, and Hunter and I are the only two people on the ice. Every day we meet in our high school's rink, occasionally joined by our teammates and friends, often left on our own, and practice like we have since the moment we first met and became friends.

Nearly ten years after that first encounter, our skills have improved immeasurably, as have our insults.

"You piece of fucking swine!" I shout, slamming my shoulder into his side as I attempt to strip him of the ball.

Hunter is silent, but I can tell from his body language he's irked by my words. He's massive now compared to the shrimp he used to be, with hard muscles and sharp lines, a grown-man in every sense of the word, and yet he still finds me annoying.

I can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the thought.

His elbow knocks into my ribs. "Shut the hell up." His voice is cold, and frustration flashes in his steel grey eyes when I don't budge. My stick slips around his, and with a jerk I send the puck a few yards away.

Moving quickly, I untangle myself from Hunter and dart after it. Hunter trails, only a few inches behind, and yet he can't reach me before I fire the puck into the back of the net.

His scowl deepens as I shout with triumph and pump my fist in the air. "Take that you fucker."

Eyes narrowing into slits, he says, "Don't be a bitch about it."

I stick my tongue out and wiggle my eyebrows. "Who you calling bitch, bitch. You're the sore loser."

"How am I a sore loser?" He demands, yanking his helmet off. "I didn't try to dispute your win! And I didn't call you a cheater. Unlike some people, I can admit defeat."

I press my lips together tightly then growl, "I was six you piece of shit. And you did cheat!"

Hunter snorts. "I wasn't talking about that, Alison." For a half second after he says my name, my breath catches in my throat, and then the strange feeling in my chest disappears behind another glare. "I was talking about last week. And the month before that. And every time you ever lose."

He's right.

I hate to lose.

I sniff. "Well, it's a good thing I rarely lose, isn't it?"

Hunter skates forward, radiating confidence and determination. His gloved hand presses against mine atop my hockey stick for a moment. "I think our match-ups generally tend to go in my favor, babe."

Annoyance sparks in my eyes, and I yank my hand away from his. I hate the condescending way he says babe every time he's reprimanding me. It's not often he calls me anything other than Alison, my full and given name, but when he does, it's usually to piss me off further. "I think in the recent months that's not so true, dick."

His lips quirk up at the edges.

"And another thing." I lean forward and whisper, "I fucking won, so guess who gets to pick the music on the way home?"

His expression sours. "I hate that rule."

I'm grinning again. "You don't hate it when you win and get to play whatever ancient hymns you want to hear."

Hunter stares at me and deadpans, "That's a bit of an exaggeration, no?"

I laugh. "Whatever you say, old man. Surprised you can even hear anything anymore."

"With the volume you listen to? Me too." He snaps, visibly pissed. "You're going to blow out your hearing. Mine too." He leans toward me, resting against his hockey stick. "And another thing-"

The door to the rink is thrown open and bangs against the wall. "Hey gorgeous." A loud, booming voice calls across the space, and even from so far back I can see the wink Caleb sends our way. "And Ali."

Hunter rolls his eyes and straightens to his full height, and I laugh. "Nice of you to join us, Caleb. You're just in time to watch me kick your boyfriend's ass."

The sour expression on Hunter's face could wither a plant. "Shut the fuck up. You're losing."

"Not for long. Two more wins and I'll have the better record." I practically sing, pushing off with my skates to retrieve the puck from my designated goal. Right now, we're 52-54, currently in Hunter's favor, but I've gone on a 6 day win streak. "Where are Will and Ty?"

Caleb leans against the wall by the entrance to the ice. "Grabbing their bags from Tyler's car. Should be here any minute now."

"You see, some people are polite enough to help get their stuff out of the car." Hunter calls to me from the center of the rink. "Instead of leaving their very generous driver to get it all by himself."

Grabbing the puck, I pass it toward Hunter. "Hey, I used to go with you all the time to get my bag! But you didn't have enough patience to wait five minutes for me to get there-"

"Because you spent the five minutes flirting with that piece of shit junior in your psych class." Hunter growls. "Wasting my time and yours, because that prude isn't worth your attention." He centers the puck and waits for me to join him.

Anger sparks in my chest. "Jason is a friend, Hunter." Kinda. I mean, he's sweet and everything, and he's always willing to help me out when I'm on the verge of failing yet another test, but he's more of an acquaintance than anything.

"Yeah, sure." Hunter scratches his cheek with his gloved fingertips, and for a second I find my focus drawn to his smooth, tan skin and sharp jawline. "He's also a horny motherfucker that probably jacks off to the thank you notes you write him."

Caleb bursts out laughing.

My hands tighten into fists around the shaft of my stick. Furious, I shoot across the ice until I'm standing just inches from Hunter. "Stop being a bastard, Hunter. Since when do you get to judge who I get to talk to?"

He smiles tightly. "Well it's up to you, of course. Just figured I would warn you that your perfect white knight is actually a sick perv-"

I jam my shoulder into his gut and take off with the puck.  

Hunter swears viciously behind me as he skates after. "Okay, now that is cheating-"

I fire the puck into the goal. "Suck my dick, Hunter. Or better yet, I'm sure Caleb would love for you to suck him off-"

A body slams into my back, knocking me to the ground and sending me skidding. The hard landing sends a jolt of pain through my body that'll definitely bruise, but I can't help but laugh as I roll onto my back. "Ooh, touchy. Sorry, didn't realize you wanted to keep your fucks secret."

Hunter towers above me. He's taken off his outer long sleeve shirt, and I see the fabric laying crumpled a little ways away. Beneath remains another long sleeve shirt, this one white and tight, showing off his arm muscles.

Staring down at me coldly, Hunter says, "I should leave you down there." When I laugh again, he grudgingly offers me his hand and helps me up. "Crazy bitch." There's a twinkle in his eye, and a soft grin at his mouth.

"You shove me, and I'm the crazy one?" I pull off my helmet and move my braid from where it lays against my back to the front of my shoulder. "That was a little physical, no?" Especially seeing as the only form of protection either of us wear during our mini games are helmets and gloves.

He shrugs. "You can take it."

"Is this what you guys do every day?" Caleb's voice breaks through our concentration on each other. "Come here to flirt?"

Hunter, who almost seemed to have forgotten Caleb was here, immediately sobers up. "We aren't flirting. Alison saves her charm for her junior buddy, isn't that right?" Even after returning to the same mellow, serious personality he takes up when around everyone, he can't help but make the passive aggressive dig.

I decide to let it go and stick with a glare. The last thing I need is another push, especially seeing as my side is already starting ache from the last one.

Together, Hunter and I skate to the entrance of the ice. I wince, lifting the edge of my shirt to peek at the reddened area of my rib cage. "Damn, Hunt. You got me good."

He peers down at me, the smallest bit of concern on his face. "Really?" There's some mixture of emotion in his voice, a combo of amusement and worry and even fear. His gaze lingers on my side and bare stomach, and at his sides his fingers twitch.

I let my shirt drop and cover me again. "Yeah. It'll be one hell of a bruise." Hunter grabs his shirt on the way, and then we step off the ice and onto the stretch of concrete that makes up the floor in front of the stadiums.

Caleb is lounging on the lowest level of the closest bleacher. His long, jean-clad legs stretch out in front of him. After dropping my helmet, stick and gloves down on my bag, I sit beside him. He wraps his arm around me shoulders in a quick hug as Hunter joins us. "How's it going, Bug?"

I roll my eyes at the nickname. When we were younger, I found it cute and a sign that I was finally part of the group. Only when I grew up did I realize Caleb found a way to call me something cute that also meant pest.

My annoyance amuses him, and so unfortunately the name, among others, stuck.

"It's going." I say finally. "I'm just glad it's Friday."

Caleb makes a noise of agreement, but before he can actually say anything the door to the rink is opened again, and two boys stride in.

"Hey." Tyler calls, making his way down the steps swiftly. His younger brother and my best friend Will, who is my age and in several of my classes, follows behind quietly. The two brothers have almost the exact same features- dark mocha eyes, practically perfect dark brown skin, close cropped curls- but they look drastically different physique wise.

In other words, Tyler dwarfs his little brother.

I wave as they draw closer. Will smiles almost shyly over at us, acting calm and quiet as he always does. Rarely does Will ever break out of his shell, but when he does, it's only ever around us.

They both drop their bags beside mine and Hunter's. Ty reaches out with his right hand and grasps Caleb's own outstretched hand and pulls him into a half hug.

Hunter smirks softly, but otherwise stays silent.

I don't.

Cupping my mouth with my hands, I shout, "The bromance lives!"

As if to prove a point, Tyler grabs Caleb by the face and presses his mouth to his best friend's forehead with a loud Mwah sound. Will and I both laugh while Hunter stares on amusedly.

Tyler pulls away with a grin. "You act as if calling us out will scare me away. You should know better, Ali."

I smile, shaking my head at his antics. Every time I ever mention the bromance Tyler and Caleb are known for, he finds some increasingly hilarious way to show off, no matter the situation or circumstance.

With a smirk of his own, Caleb nudges Tyler with his elbow. "Yeah. Ty ain't ashamed of me."

"What a shocker." Hunter mumbles in a low voice that is just loud enough for me- and only me- to hear.

I snort with laughter.

"So, guess what?" Will pipes up, glancing down the line at me. "Apparently there's a new kid coming."

"To tryouts?" I laugh. "There's a lot of new kids, Will."

He shakes his head. "More than that. He emailed Dad, is moving this weekend from Canada. He starts on Monday and asked about practice."

Tyler scratches his head. "It's true. He's a sophomore. Put a bunch of his accolades in the email. Sounds pretty good."

Hunter seems slightly impressed, and Caleb is grinning, and for some reason a twist of unease unfurls in my stomach. "Yeah well, that doesn't necessarily mean he's good. Just that he's shit with a big fucking ego."

"He's from Canada." Caleb scoffs. "They're practically born on the ice. I bet he's good."

Ever the calm, unruffled captain, Hunter says evenly, "We'll find out Monday. Nothing we can do about it now."

Will slides down the seat of the bleacher until he sits right behind me. "Do you think he's cute?" He asks innocently, but there's a slight smile in the way the ends of his lips turn up.

I roll my eyes but feel the discomfort fade. "He's a hockey player, Will. All hockey players are hot." I feel three pairs of eyes staring holes into the side of my face, and I turn to face them. "What the hell are you looking at?"

They share a glance, then Caleb turns back to me. "Okay, I'll say it. Does that mean you think we're hot?"

Will laughs behind me, and as a result Caleb glares at him. "Need us to stroke your ego, Caleb?"

Suddenly, the senior smirks at him. "Not at all, but I'll tell you what you can stroke."

Will's whole face flushed red as he ducks behind me. Tyler, on the other hand, shoves a laughing Caleb hard in the shoulder. "Not cool man. That's my little brother."

Caleb pulls away, snickering to himself. "Aw, I'm just playing." There's still a devilish glint in his eyes as he sends Will a wink, but it slips under Tyler's protective-older-brother radar. He glances over at me. "Well?"

My eyebrows are slightly raised with amusement. "To answer your question, Caleb, some hockey players are hotter than others."

"She means me." Tyler interjects with a smirk. He wiggles his eyebrows, staring boastfully at the rest of us. "Obviously. It's why I'm the only one with a girlfriend."

I don't have a chance to reply- or disagree- before Caleb snaps, "No way bro, it's me. Even your brother agrees."

"Will can't say I'm hot, even though I am." Tyler scoffs. "Besides, he probably thinks Hunter is hot, too." They both look at the younger Macintosh brother, who is squirming uncomfortably behind me.

Knowing I need to help my buddy out, I steal their focus back with, "You guys are fucking weird."

Caleb rests his elbows on his knees and drags his fingers through his hair. Though its cut close to the sides of his head, the top pieces are longer, and dark brown strands fall against his forehead. "Come on Al, you've got to tell us who's the hotter one." Tyler leans forward eagerly and nods along to every word.

I survey the two of them carefully, then glance ever so swiftly at Hunter, who is watching with a curious expression on his face.

Funny how the hottest one is the one most unconcerned with who it is.

Without skipping a beat, I say, "You know, I think I'll let you two sort that out yourself. Can't be picking favorites, you know."

Unimpressed, Caleb starts to argue, as does Tyler, and suddenly they're bickering among themselves loudly. As mild insults turn to swearing and threats, Will leans down to murmur in my ear, "We both agree it isn't my brother, right?"

I grin and whisper, "Still leaves two options, doesn't it?" 

He laughs and pulls away.

We both know who would pick who, even if the boys are oblivious.

* * *

Two days later, I'm standing outside building four leaning against the wall, waiting with my bag at my feet and my eyes closed. My posture falsely conveys a sense of calm when in reality I'm freaking out. Coach Mac asked Will and I to meet the new kid and show him around, which was annoying in itself, but Will bailed to finish a math test.

So I have to meet the new kid and show him to the locker rooms and ice rink by myself.

Fuck you Will. Fuck you and your meticulous, brilliant brain taking your sweet time to get a perfect score. Fuck you fuck you fuck you-

I open one of my eyes to scan the sideway that stretches before me. No one.

Coach Mac told him to meet me outside this building after school, but for all I know he's desperately lost and will never find me. Eventually I'll have to leave to get to the rink on time, which means fifteen minutes early in order to avoid Hunter's mind numbing lectures on punctuality. Coach won't be pleased that I abandoned him, but if he never shows there's not much else he could ask me to do.

I straighten up, already feeling perkier knowing that there's a chance I won't be forced into an awkward tour guide role. After all, it's a pretty big campus, and the last bell rang almost twelve minutes ago-

There's movement toward the corner of my vision, and into my view walks a tall, pale, dark haired boy with a back pack that is hanging off one shoulder and swinging as he walks. His head is up, shoulders back, as he walks with confidence oozing out of every movement me makes. The jeans and Toronto Maple Leafs t-shirt are obscenely casual and exactly what my friends and I wear to school every day. Honestly, he looks like he'll fit right in.

Despite the urge I have to bolt, or at least duck my head and let the nerves crawling through my veins pull me down, I meet his gaze boldly. I have no reason to cower before him. I'm doing him a favor, helping him out and showing him around. That's it. Maybe, if he isn't an absolute prick like I'm expecting him to be, we'll even be friends.

"Hey," he says as he nears me. When he smiles, three dimples prick his skin, one on the left and two on the right. He has a nice smile, and Will will be excited to see that the answer to his question is yes, he is hot. "Is this building four?"

I very much want to made a comment referring to the small sign with a large four that hangs by the door just two feet away, but I don't. Instead, I smile as nicely as I can without looking too strange and say, "Yes it is."

"Great." I don't know him well, but I think he relaxes a bit at my affirmation if the slight dip in his shoulders are anything to go by. "I legit covered every square inch of this place looking for it." Okay, so he has a flare for the dramatics and likes to exaggerate. Can't be as bad as Caleb, but still. "I'm supposed to meet this kid named Wilson from the hockey team."

Pushing off the wall behind me, I lift my bag over my shoulder. For once, having a time limit works in my favor, as the next words come easily to me. "Yep, that's me. We need to go now, so we can do introductions on the way."

He cocks his head to the side, surprise widening his eyes slightly. "Oh, that's you? Are you the team manager?"

My smile falls away. If I had a quarter for every time someone asked me that question, well I'd only have enough money for a candy bar, because I punched everyone who asked it and eventually word got around. That and the fact that I was mentioned very often in the school news for being an integral part of the team last year. "No, I'm not the manager. I'm a starting forward." There's no emotion in my voice, nothing but an empty chill that would definitely worry my friends if I weren't alone with this asswipe because it means I'm one dumb comment away from picking a fight, which cannot happen. Not only would Coach be angry that I got into another altercation, he would be pissed that it's with the new kid I'm supposed to show around.

He just stares at me for a second. "Wait... on the girl's team?" There's no malice in his confusion, which should placate me. At least he's not trying to be an ignorant asshole.

Still, I've dealt with my fair share of skeptics turned jackasses. It starts with shock and doubt and disbelief and quickly turns into something ugly.

So I don't hold desperately onto my self control, and I don't try to take the high road that everyone in my life preaches about. Instead, I shoot off all my anger and frustration and insecurities in the most piercing tone of voice I can. "No you fucking dipshit. I play forward on the guys team. I helped win states, on the guys team. I won fucking MVP on the guys team. And I'll play over you on the guys team."

He flinches, staring across with even more shock on his face, and if I weren't so goddamn mad I might actually think its funny. But his surprise doesn't last long, and soon enough its morphed into an anger that mirrors mine. "Well someone thinks highly of herself." I bite back a laugh; of course I think highly of myself. There's no one else to, and I'd crumble without the whole-hearted belief from at least one person.

I just smirk, allowing the arrogance that comes out quite often when I feel threatened or cornered to show. "I mean, I think the plaque hanging in my room says it all, not to mention all the other accomplishments I've had."

His eyes narrow, and as he straightens up and stands even taller, I feel nerves flitting about in my stomach. Why couldn't this have gone well? Why did he have to be such a bastard? "Yeah? Well it's a new season, new competition. If you think that you're just going to waltz back onto the ice-"

This time, I do laugh, and I cut him off before he can continue. "First off, I know its a new season. That's why I've been working my ass off all summer and fall to improve. Second, I don't waltz, I strut. Third, good luck being a part of this season without knowing how to find the goddamn rink." I shove past him, knocking into his shoulder as roughly as I can and forcing him to stumble just so he can keep his balance. "Cause I'm sure as hell not helping you now."

"Are you serious?" He demands. I don't give him the satisfaction of looking back, but I'm pretty sure I hear some footsteps as he trails after me. "You're such a fucking brat." 

A new surge of fury nearly knocks me off my feet. If punching him- which would definitely get back to Coach Mac- wouldn't put me on the sidelines for at least half of season, I would definitely turn around and punch him. It takes every ounce of my very feeble self control to limit myself to one last snide comment: "Wait till you see me on the ice."

His swearing echoes behind me as I stalk toward the parking lot, where Hunter is hopefully still waiting, fuming all the while.

Authors Note:

welcome to the one millionth edition of Thin Ice (once known as stolen love). I've redone this story more than any of my others, and its been a long journey to this point, but at least you can't say I'm not tenacious!!

I'll either get the ball rolling with this story this month, or I will not touch it for weeks. on one hand, while classes start in just a week, a good portion will be online, and lacrosse does not have a definitive start date yet, so my month will be pretty empty. on the other hand, your girl tested positive for covid(: when I tell you I was floored by the result, I was on the cold hard GROUND. I've been so careful and somehow it still got to me so wear your mask!!!

anyway, my move in date is pushed back by two weeks as a result. I'll be in my room by myself for two weeks now, but I may not feel up to writing. only time will tell.

I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS CHAPTER!!! I love these characters so much. they are so dear to my heart (if you couldn't tell by my repeated tries to make this work), and they have so much growth coming for them that I can't wait to express. please like and comment if you enjoyed.

peace out, sophhh