Chapter 1

Lila's Pov

The cold air from the rink still hit my face even though I wasn’t stepping inside. I stood at the entrance, holding my bag, telling myself I was only here to watch Harper practice. Not to play. Not to skate. Not to remember.

The sound of skates cutting through ice used to be my favorite sound in the world. Now it just made my chest tighten.

“You coming in or what?” Harper called from inside, leaning over the railing with her helmet under her arm.

I shook my head. “I’m good here.”

Her smile faded a little. She knew why. Everyone knew why.

“Lila…” she started, but I cut her off.

“I’m fine. Just… Don't worry about me.”

I wasn’t fine. But saying it out loud would make it real. It would make me believe that I was at least.

The last time I was on this rink, Mason’s voice had been loud enough for the whole team to hear.

“You were fun while it lasted, Lil,” he’d said, grinning in that stupid charming way that used to make my knees weak. “But I’m done. I never loved you. You were just… something to do. A bet and thank you, because I won.

Then there was the laughter. From him. From some of his friends. From strangers who pretended not to hear but were listening. From the entire school.

I stood there, my skates and uniform on, my stick in hand, like a fool. My throat had burned. My stomach had twisted. And I had walked off the ice, past the locker rooms, past the benches, and out the door. I didn't look back. I honestly couldn't. I would break if I did.

That was the day I quit.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Lila. He never did. He’s not worth throwing away everything for.” Harper’s voice rang out. She was in front of me now, her eyes searching mine.

“I’m alright, Harp,” I told her softly. Then, I looked down at my watch.

“Crap.”

“What?” she asked.

“We’re going to be late for class.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the rink.

“Relax, it’s our last class of the day anyways.” she said, jogging a little to keep up.

“Exactly. I don’t want detention on a Friday.”

Harper laughed, shaking her head. “Fine, fine. But hey, have you heard the rumor?”

“What rumor?” I asked, glancing at her.

“We have a new transfer student,” she said, her tone dropping like she was sharing state secrets. “And apparently, he’s a total dreamboat.”

I snorted. “A dreamboat? Who even says that?”

“I’m serious! That’s what people are calling him. They say he just got out of juvie. And also, he's single.”

I gave her a sideways look. “Don’t you already have a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” she said, drawing the word out, “but I’m telling you so you would take a step.”

I laughed. “Harper, you know I’ve sworn off men.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re just figuring that out?” At my comment, we laughed. Harper was my best friend. Our mums are best friends and so were our grand moms. It's like a generational thing.

We walked down the hallway, our shoes squeaking against the polished floor. People stared at me as we passed, the way they always did now. I met their eyes and stared right back until they looked away.

Then I saw him.

Mason.

He was walking toward us with his teammates, laughing about something. When his eyes met mine, he smirked. The same smirk he’d had the day he broke me in front of half the school.

I looked right through him, pretending he wasn’t there. He wasn’t worth my time. Not anymore. And I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that he still bothered me. If anything, I wanted to give the bastard a slap across the face.

Beside me, Harper raised her hand and gave him the middle finger without missing a step.

I bit back a laugh. “Subtle, Harp.”

“Who said I’m trying to be subtle?” she said, her voice light but her eyes sharp. Mason stared at me for the last time but I just turned my head away.

When we reached our classroom, we slipped into our seats just as the teacher started. I opened my notebook and stared at the page, but my mind was somewhere else.

I hated that I still cared what people thought about me. I’d quit hockey. I walked away. I’d held my head high.

But the truth? Every time I walked these halls, I felt like people were still whispering about me. About Mason. About that day.

Boys were an unnecessary distraction. One I couldn’t afford right now. And I’d make sure I didn’t get distracted. They were all jerks and liars.

I forced my attention back to the teacher, scribbling notes even though I didn’t hear half of what was being said. History was my least favorite class anyways.

When the bell rang, I was packing my bag when someone stopped at my desk.

“Coach is calling you,” the guy said before walking out.

I frowned. “Coach?”

Harper, who was stuffing her own books into her backpack, looked at me. “Why would Coach be calling you?”

“No idea.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s fine. You go ahead…”

“Nope,” she said quickly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “We’re going home together anyway. I’m coming.”

We stepped into the hallway.

“Do you have any idea why he’s calling you?” she asked again.

“Your coach, Harp. Not mine.”

She made a face. “Still our school’s coach.”

We fell into silence after that. My thoughts felt like mush, all jumbled and heavy.

I didn’t want to see the rink. I didn’t want to hear anything about hockey. And I definitely didn’t want to be dragged back into it.

So I decided to suck it up and focus on something else. Except it was hard to.