The Road Trip

The bus ride to the away game in South California was supposed to take six hours. It was barely three o'clock in the afternoon, but the sky was a heavy. Outside the window, the rain was slapping against the glass.

I sat in my usual seat near the middle of the bus, trying to focus on my playbook. I stared at the X’s and O’s until they blurred into black ink. It was hard to concentrate when the air inside the bus started to turn into ice. At first, it was just a draft. Then, the windows began to fog over with a thick layer of frost.

"Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?" Toby asked from the seat behind me. I heard him shifting.

"My toes are actually numb, Liam."

"The heater is dead," Coach Mike announced from the front. He sounded exhausted.

"The driver is trying to fix it, but for now, stay bundled up. We aren't stopping. We have a game to play, and I’m not letting a broken fan stand in our way. Use your blankets. Use each other. Just stay warm."

I pulled my heavy team jacket tighter, zipping it all the way to my chin. I looked at the empty seat next to me. Usually, I sat alone so I could study the plays in peace. It was part of being the Captain ; keeping a distance. But today, the Coach had changed the seating chart. He said he wanted total team unity.

The bus lurched over a pothole, and Jax Miller slid into the seat beside me. He didn't ask if the seat was taken. He didn't even say hello. He just sat down with a heavy sigh. His teeth were already chattering. He wore a thin, grey hoodie that looked like it had seen better days.

"You're going to freeze to death in that," I said, not looking away from my playbook. I tried to sound annoyed, but my voice was just flat.

"I'm fine, Captain," Jax whispered.

Within ten minutes, he was shivering so hard the entire row of seats was vibrating. The temperature outside was dropping fast. My own breath was visible now, small puffs of white steam. I looked at Jax out of the corner of my eye. His face was pale, almost blue.

"Miller," I said.

"What?" his voice was shaky.

"You're shaking the whole row. I can't read my plays."

"I... I can't help it," he muttered. He looked smaller than usual,like he was trying to disappear.

I looked around the bus. The scene was the same everywhere. Toby was sharing a large wool blanket with another defenseman, their shoulders pressed together. The freshmen were huddled in the back in groups of three, like a pack of penguins. It was a survival situation. If we showed up to the arena frozen and stiff, we would lose the game.

"Move closer," I said.

Jax looked at me like I had grown a second head. "What did you say, Simpson?"

"I'm not saying it again," I hissed, feeling my face heat up despite the freezing air. "Coach is watching from the front mirror. If we get sick or our muscles get too stiff to play, we’re finished. Both of us. Just... lean in. Stay warm. It’s a mechanical necessity, nothing more."

Jax hesitated for a long second. He looked at the window, then at me. Then, slowly, he moved across the seat. Our shoulders touched. Then our thighs. Through the thick fabric of our team tracksuits, I could feel the heat of him. It was shocking. Despite his shivering, he was like a furnace.

I opened my heavy, oversized parka and pulled one side of it over his shoulder, tucking him into the warmth of my coat. It was awkward. My heart was thumping a strange, fast rhythm against my ribs. I stared straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of me.

"Don't make a big deal out of this," I whispered.

"Trust me, Simpson," Jax breathed, leaning his head back against the seat.

“I'm too cold to care about your ego right now. Just shut up and let me stop shaking."

We sat in silence for the next two hours. The bus was quiet.

I looked down at him after a while. He had fallen asleep. His jaw was relaxed, no longer clenched in a smirk. His dark eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks.

I felt a strange, heavy tug in my chest. It wasn't hate. It wasn't even the usual annoyance that followed him around.I should have pushed him off. I should have woken him up and told him to sit up straight. But I didn't. I stayed perfectly still, holding my breath so I wouldn't disturb him.

"We're here! Everyone up!" Coach Mike shouted as the bus pulled into the stadium parking lot.

Jax jumped awake, pulling away from me instantly as if he had been electrocuted. He rubbed his face.

"Uh... thanks," he muttered, looking at his feet. He quickly grabbed his bag and stood up, avoiding my eyes completely.

"Whatever," I said, standing up just as fast.

"I don't," Jax said, but his voice sounded different. Less sharp.

I caught my reflection in the glass doors of the arena. My blonde hair was messy. My eyes looked tired. I looked like a man who was losing a war. And the worst part was, I wasn't sure I wanted to win it anymore.