Semua Bab My Ice Hockey Boy : Bab 1 - Bab 5

Avery’s POVThe bleachers are crammed full, everyone pressed in too close, the air thick with sweat and popcorn and this tense, humming energy that makes my skin itch. My hands are locked around the edge of the bench, knuckles gone pale, but I refuse to look at the ice. Not even for a second.I shouldn’t have come.I promised myself a while ago, swore up and down, full of anger and hurt that I wouldn’t set foot in here again. Not after everything. Not after what he did. But Lila wouldn’t let it go. She dragged me along, insisting, “Just one game. You don’t have to watch. Staying home on a Friday night just looks sad.”She might be right. I don’t know.The crowd roars, a wave of sound hitting me hard. I flinch before I can stop myself. Old habits, I guess. All those years clapping, shouting, yelling his name. Now the noise makes my stomach clench.I don’t look. I won’t.I stare down at this crack in the cement by my shoes. Count the lines. Trace the shapes. Anything but the ice.But my

Avery’s POVGym class has always been my safe zone. Neutral ground. No ice, no sticks, no Ethan Cole parading his golden-boy smile. Just me, a pair of sneakers, and enough determination to pass without embarrassing myself.But today, Coach Daniels has other plans.“Hockey drills,” he announces, tossing a bag of pucks onto the floor like we’re suddenly at tryouts. “Teamwork. Coordination. Endurance.”Groans echo across the gym, but my stomach drops. Hockey drills. Of all things.I keep my face blank, my expression practiced. No one here knows. No one except Lila, and she’s sworn to keep my secret buried. I’ve spent months avoiding anything that could give me away anything that could link me back to the girl who used to live and breathe the ice.The girl who got humiliated on it.The class splits into groups, fumbling with sticks, laughing at their own awkwardness. For most of them, this is a game, a novelty. For me, it’s muscle memory. Every grip, every step, every flick of the wrist i

Avery’s POVThe ice is colder than I remember.My skates scrape clumsily across the surface, every wobble echoing in my bones. I used to own this place fluid strides, confident cuts, the girl who never faltered. Now, I feel like a stranger.“Pathetic,” Jax mutters from the blue line. He doesn’t raise his voice, but the word carries, sharp as a slap.I shoot him a glare. “I’m a little out of practice.”“A little?” He smirks, lazily gliding toward me. Effortless. Like the ice bends for him. “You look like Bambi on roller skates.”Heat surges to my cheeks. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”“I am.” He flicks a puck in my direction. “Rule number one: stop whining.”The puck skitters across the ice. Instinct kicks in I catch it on my stick, handle it without thinking. For a second, it feels right. Then my balance falters, and I stumble.Jax’s laugh cuts through the rink. Low, amused, maddening. It was like him teasing me, except it wasn't hurtful in a way. “Shut up,” I snap, scrambling t