Fire On Ice

SIRI

He was marvelous. A force of fire on ice. 

He was fast, aggressive, violently knocking away anyone who tried to take the puck from him. He took on people built like a wall, and he didn't even flinch. He didn't waver. 

There was beauty in his aggression and violence. 

I didn't care about the other players on the rink. I didn't care about the thousands of fans cheering and singing. I only cared about him. 

Jackson. 

My eyes followed him all over the rink, and not once—I mean, not once—did I look away from him. I didn't look away even when he was winning or losing. I didn't look away when he scowled, smirked, grimaced, or looked so fucking smug. 

He was perfection. A perfection I feel like I didn't deserve because I didn't want to taint him with my ugliness or bitterness. I wanted him to remain perfect, but… but for once in my damn life I wanted to be selfish. 

For once in the endless bitterness and agony I call a life, I wanted to be held the way Jackson holds me. I wanted to be looked at the way Jackson looked at me, like I was all he could see. I wanted to be selfish and hold onto him even if that meant tainting him. 

“Go, Jackson!” I cheered as one of his teammates scored another goal. It wasn't him who did, but I cheered for only him. I was here for only him, and not because I've suddenly developed a love for hockey. “Whoo!” 

“You can’t do life alone,” the old woman's words echoed in my head. “So love while you can.”

I wasn't sure if this was love, but I wasn't going to question it. Michael’s words haven't stopped haunting me. They were there, right there beside her words: “You are fucking pathetic and will only ever be a plaything.” 

The words haunt me every time I think I might have a chance with Jackson, but I've decided to leave the past where it belonged. I decided to let go of that ghost and move on. 

Even if this doesn't last, even if these feelings make me pathetic, I don't mind. As long as I get to enjoy this moment, I don't care about the future. I was going to remain in the present, where he was.

The game ended, and his team won. As they cheered and celebrated, his eyes found mine. He didn't even search. He just turned and met my eyes immediately. He smiled, that smile that makes my heart stop and my lungs expand. There was a light in his eyes as he kept staring at me, a boyish charm on his face.

I smiled back, still cheering, not bothering to hide my excitement or feelings. 

I was done hiding. 

I was so done hiding.

~.~

The next stop was Stockholm. And… before the flight, we had a heated argument. 

“Why won't you fly with me, Siri?” Jackson asked in a low voice as he stood in the middle of the room, his expression tight.

I couldn't look at him. I busied myself with packing my things into my bag even though everything was already well arranged.

“I already explained everything to you.”

“It sounds like a bloody excuse to me,” he gritted out.

“Well, it’s not.”

“Will the sky fall on our heads if my teammates see us together? Huh? It’s not exactly written on our foreheads that we’re fucking you know.”

I zipped my bag closed with more force than needed, finally turning to him. “Yeah, it’s not. But tell me, Jackson, how many of your teammates have a woman traveling with them?”

He hesitated. “That–”

“Zero, right?” I cut him off, my voice taking on a harsh tone. “So what will they think when they see us together?”

His fist clenched around the handle of his luggage. “So that’s it, then? You don't want to be seen with me because what? I’m your dirty secret?”

I gave him a hard look. “In case you haven't noticed, Mr., what we’re doing isn't actually right. We’re supposed to be stepsiblings, remember? So yes, this is a secret! It has to be. Nothing good will come from advertising to the world that we know each other, Jackson. Nothing good will come from being seen with me.”

Right before my eyes, his emotions got shut away. His face fell until it was… blank. 

That… scared me. 

“I thought we were making progress, Siri,” he said, his voice soft but somehow hard at the same time. “I thought we were finally past that push and shove.”

I took a step towards him. “We–”

“I’ll see you in Stockholm, then,” he said, turning away, and I watched his back as he left. 

When the door closed behind him, I groaned, hitting the poor bed that had done nothing to me.

Why couldn't he understand?! Why was nothing getting through that thick skull of his? 

He couldn't be seen with me! 

Especially with his team. 

Michael used to be on the hockey team before he transferred. Half of them knew him. Half of them were involved in the whole shit show. So they knew what happened. They saw the video. 

So a tainted person like me couldn't be seen with Jackson. It would ruin his reputation, and I didn't need that! I couldn't let that happen!

I sat on the floor, sighing deeply. 

“Why can't you understand I'm trying to protect you?” 

~.~

He got to the hotel before me.

“I brought you something to eat,” he said when I stepped in, unpacking without looking at me. 

“Jackson, I–”

“I know you wouldn't have eaten anything, so eat while it’s still hot,” he cut me off gently, still not looking at me. 

My shoulders dropped, my grip tightening around my bag strap. I stood there without moving, staring at him as he moved and ignored me. The longer I stood there while he acted like I wasn't even there, the angrier I got. 

“You’re being fucking childish,” I spat, and he froze with his hand halfway into his bag.

Very slowly, he turned to me, his expression cold enough to freeze hell. “What?”

“You’re being childish, Jackson,” I repeated, my voice sounding harder.