Hesitation

MIKKA.

I woke before the sun.

My neck ached so badly that I had to sit still for a full minute before I could move. The hard plastic bench inside the bus terminal had become my bed for the night, and every bone in my body reminded me of it. Around me, people hurried to catch early buses while cleaners pushed their carts across the floor. Nobody noticed me sitting there with my suitcase beside me, looking like someone who had been forgotten.

My phone was completely dead, and I couldn't even check the time anymore.

After digging through my wallet, I counted the little money I had left. It wasn't much. If I was careful, I could buy one meal later today. Instead, I walked to the small coffee stand near the entrance and spent part of it on the cheapest cup they sold. The paper cup warmed my freezing hands, and for a few seconds, that tiny bit of heat felt like the nicest thing anyone had given me in days.

I sat back down and reached into my bag.

My notebook.

The pages were already worn from how many times I had opened them. I slowly turned to the first page where I had written Seven's name. Every line brought last night's memories back. His skating wasn't bad. His balance wasn't bad either. His problem wasn't talent. It was hesitation. Every time he prepared to shoot, something inside him made him stop believing before the puck even left his stick.

I whispered to myself as I read my notes, and I closed my eyes and imagined him again. His tired face. The frustration after every missed shot. The sadness he tried so hard to hide behind that cold voice. People thought he couldn't score because he wasn't good enough.

They were wrong.

"No," I whispered, hugging the notebook tighter. "You're carrying something."

I didn't know what it was.

Fear.

Pain.

A memory.

Whatever it was, it followed him onto the ice every single time.

For almost an hour, I argued with myself.

"He told you to leave him alone."

"He already said no."

"You embarrassed yourself enough."

Each thought hurt.

Then another voice answered inside me.

"If you stop now... everything ends.”

I looked at my suitcase, I looked at my empty coffee cup, and I looked at the notebook. This was all I had left. My future was already falling apart. Being rejected one more time couldn't make it much worse.

By the time the morning sun climbed higher, I had made my decision. I was going to see Seven one last time.

The professional arena looked even bigger during the day.

Fans stood outside taking pictures beside giant posters of the team. Children wore jerseys while parents bought tickets from the front office. For a second, I remembered standing outside another arena years ago with Levi, dreaming that one day people would cheer for him.

I pushed the memory away.

Not today.

I walked toward the players' entrance before two security guards noticed me.

One of them frowned immediately.

"Excuse me."

I stopped.

"Can I help you?"

The younger guard looked at me carefully before his eyes widened.

"You're that girl."

The older guard turned.

"What girl?"

"The one from the video."

Heat rushed into my face.

"I just need five minutes."

The older guard stepped in front of the door.

"Players aren't receiving visitors."

"I'm not here for everyone."

His expression stayed firm.

"I'm here for Seven Calloway."

He folded his arms.

"Do you have approval?"

"No."

"I'm sorry but we can’t let you in,” the guard said.

"I only need five minutes,” I pleaded. “I just need to see Seven briefly.”

"No."

I took another careful step.

"Please."

The younger guard looked uncomfortable.

"What do you need from him?"

"I just want to give him something."

The older guard shook his head again.

"You'll have to leave."

"Just let me see him, please. I won't cause any trouble."

"I'm sure you won't."

His voice wasn't cruel.

"But rules are rules."

People walking past had started looking at me. Some whispered. One person lifted a phone, and I felt my cheeks burn.

"I understand."

I forced a smile that didn't feel real.

"I'll go."

Instead of leaving completely, I crossed the street and sat on a low concrete wall. From there I could still see the players' entrance.

"He has to come out eventually," I whispered.

So I waited.

An hour passed.

Then another.

Staff members left carrying boxes. Reporters arrived with cameras before leaving again. Players drove out one after another, waving to fans through their windows.

Every black SUV made my heart jump, but every time, it wasn't him.

The afternoon slowly turned into evening.

Maybe he had already left through another exit. Or maybe he wasn't even here today.

I lowered my head.

"I missed him."

The words barely escaped before headlights appeared from the underground parking garage as another black SUV rolled toward the gate.

I almost ignored it.

Then I saw him.

Seven.

He sat in the passenger seat staring out the window.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

"Seven! Hey!”

I grabbed my notebook and ran.

The SUV kept moving.

"Seven!"

I waved both hands.

Cars filled the road between us.

The traffic light ahead suddenly turned red, and the SUV stopped. Without thinking, I ran across the crosswalk.

People shouted. A horn blasted somewhere behind me. But I didn't stop.

I reached the passenger window just as it lowered halfway. 

Seven looked exhausted. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes as he stared at me in complete surprise.

"Mikka?"

I struggled to catch my breath.

"Seven. I'm sorry."

His eyebrows pulled together.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for cornering you the other night,” I said, holding the notebook tightly against my chest. "I shouldn't have done that."

He stayed quiet.

"I was desperate."

"I know."

His voice sounded softer than before.

"I know now."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"I'm not asking you to fake-date me anymore."

His eyes searched my face.

"I'm not here for that."

The driver glanced impatiently toward the traffic light.

"We should move soon."

"One minute," Seven replied without looking away from me.

I held out the notebook.

"This is all I came for."

He looked down at it.

"What is it?"

"My work." I took a shaky breath. "Everything I saw about your skating."

His eyes lifted again.

"I watched every movement, and I wrote down every mistake."

His expression changed slightly.

"I also wrote how to fix them."

Silence hung between us.

"I'm not lying, Seven."

My voice cracked.

"I know I don't have anything left that makes people trust me."

I pushed the notebook gently through the open window.

"But I know hockey."

He accepted it without realizing he had. His fingers rested on the cover while mine slowly let go.

"If you read it,” I continued. “and you still think I'm lying, I'll never bother you again. Just read it, and then decide if I'm worth believing.”

The traffic light turned green.

Cars behind us immediately began honking.

The driver looked at Seven.

"We have to go."

Seven never took his eyes off me. Then he looked down at the notebook resting in his hands. He still didn't say anything just as the SUV slowly pulled away.

I stayed standing on the sidewalk, watching it disappear into the evening traffic until I couldn't see it anymore.