âyou will not be so nice when we beat you,â you say, and it sounds lightly teasing enough. it comes from a place of certainty, though, you know what happens when people are unhappy with you, you know how they react to you, what they say to you. itâs happened often enough. it happens daily at home.
âthatâs not happening,â the boy with the breathtaking freckles on his cheeks says, and heâs smiling like heâs in on the joke, but you know heâs risen to the bait, taken the challenge. of course you have heard of him, have seen him, you know that on the ice, heâs a natural force.
âsee you in finals,â you call after himâheâs already turned away and walking, and youâre calling after him. and he waves without taking his hand out of his jacket pocket and something kindles in you, something deep down inside that you have no name for, yet. you know itâs terrifying, or a part of you does, something instinctual, animalistic, or maybe just that part of you that knows better.
and you pour everything you have, every twist and trick and an ounce of skill, into beating him. you need to beat him. you need him to lose. you need him to not be so nice.
you canât start wanting something when you donât know what it is. you know what it is. you canât want it.
and heâs not nice, after. heâs angry, you can see it. but not at you. you see that, too. and the win feels good but when heâs not angry at you, it feelsâit feels. unnameable.
you see if you can push him, into being angry, into a reaction youâre familiar with, but he just looks at you with something else, that youâre familiar with too.
that you can navigate because itâs physical. an itch. all you need to do is scratch. if he even really wants it too.
and he wants. his want feels equal to yours in the same way youâre equals on the ice. that you donât know. that is new.
and you remember, you wanted to make him not be so nice. heâs not nice. heâs something worse. underneath all both your talk and tease and cursing, heâs kind. earnest. and he keeps wanting.
you beat him as often as he beats you. and yet he never tells you any of the things youâve come to expect to hear. not when you win. especially not when you lose.
you realize, too late, that you got in the deep end. and you have to do as youâve had to do for a long time: find out on your own how to get through it.
until you realize youâre not alone. heâs right there with you.
