Out of Play

“What’s wrong with you, B.R.? Did they give you a lobotomy here or something?” She laughs, and I try to do the same, but it doesn’t happen. This isn’t me—this fucked-up, conflicted feeling cementing inside me. I pick up the vodka. Maybe I just need a drink to relax.

Before I get a chance, Marya

She leans forward, but I again notice her hair is the wrong color, and she smells like cigarettes. Pe

Marya

She isn’t deterred, though, her lips just making a trail toward my mouth and this time, I don’t stop her. Pe

My mouth opens and Marya

This feels wrong. I feel wrong, so I turn away from her.

“Bishop?” She doesn’t sound hurt, just confused.

“I can’t.” Pe

“Sorry, I’m just not in the mood.” I lift Marya

I close the bathroom door behind me before splashing water on my face. It helps a little, waking me up and shocking me into reality. My body has that light, floaty feeling it always gets when I’m high, but I can’t tell if I like it or not.

Then I’m back in the main room again. “Listen… I think I better get back.”

She just rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Bishop. You’re losing it, you know that?”

Right now, I’m thinking she should be pissed, or at least care a little bit. Blake might be right. Would she be okay with anything just to be around me?

I’m not sure if I’m losing it or finding it, so I nod. When she tells me she wants to go back to L.A., I get on my phone and buy her a plane ticket. We drive back toward the cabins in silence. When we’re almost there, I tell her to pull over so I can walk the rest of the way in. My body sort of relaxes at the thought, and I realize I’m not only walking so we don’t get caught, but maybe because I need it. “I’m sorry about this. I just have a lot going on.”

“It’s okay. I’ve never been to Alaska. Got me out of town for a day.” She shrugs. “Call me when you get back and we’ll chill.”

I nod. When I’m back home with her, things will be different. I’ll be normal.

I actually feel pretty good about myself right now, like I did the right thing. Then, Marya

Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

Why shouldn’t I do it? Why am I suddenly worried? I reach out and grab it before stuffing them in my boot. “Thanks.”

Get out of the car. Close the door. Watch her drive away. One foot in front of the other. Walk. That’s what each step feels like—a checklist of activities, and I’m not really doing them.

The baggy scratches my leg with each pace. There’s a direct line from the spot it touches me to my brain, making it all I think about.

I stop, pull the bag out, and count them. Twelve. I was wrong. There are twelve pills. Now that I know how many are there, I push them back into my boot and walk again.

Sucking in a deep breath, I try to focus on the cold air, look at the trees, and remember the feel of grease on my hands. My mind flashes to Pe

I pass the driveway and keep going. Keep breathing and thinking. Soon, I don’t feel the scratch of the baggy anymore, though I know it’s there. The more I walk, the clearer my head becomes. On and on, I keep going, struggling to let it all go—to find that peace Gary tells me I have.

And then…there it is. I find it and wish like hell it will last.

Chapter Fourteen

Pe

So yesterday I was at school all bent over Mitch, and today I’m bent over Bishop. At least I’m headed to the rink. I left last period early for some time alone on the ice. Coach is going to bust our asses this week, but I’m looking forward to it. It’s not like anything else awesome is happening right now. This is the last week of high school hockey, and the harder I work, the better the distraction is.

“Got a sec?” Mitch hollers across the ice.

After moping last night over…pretty much everything, I really just want to skate. But I slide to a stop in front of him anyway because I need one awkward part of my life to not be awkward anymore. “What’s up?”

“Knowing you, I have about thirty seconds, so I’m going to spit it out.”

Now that I’ve decided to let him talk, everything in me is still and waiting to hear what he has to say.

He shoves his hands in his pockets. Obviously nervous. “I love you, Pe

I nod once because this is what we do as a team. Explain. Get over it. Move on. “Okay.”

His head tilts to the side. “Okay?”

My chest loosens in a way it hasn’t since Matt’s party. It’s not perfect, but it’s better enough that I know we’ll eventually be good. For real. “Get your gear on or you’re going to be late. And yes. We’re okay.” I push away from the wall to keep warming up.

Mitch will never be mine like he is Rebecca’s, and now that it’s done, it doesn’t hurt the way I thought it would. Like the idea of us together was my constant but not a reality I actually wanted. Crazy, but I think it took facing Rebecca and kissing Bishop to figure it out. An ache spreads from my chest at the thought of seeing Bishop with another girl. I suck in a breath and try to dispel the pain. I need to keep skating. Two laps and my brain is still spi

Rebecca steps into the team box as I come around the corner and waves. She’s biting her stupid lip again.

I slide to a stop, trying to be nice and forcing myself to recognize that she has more balls than I’ve given her credit for. “What’s up?”

She shrugs her tiny shoulders. “Just came to watch you guys practice.”

“Why?” I’m actually curious.

“‘Cause it’s really important to Mitch, and I want to understand that about him.” She flicks a chunk of brown hair over her shoulder.

She wants to understand him, and she should. He deserves that anyway. “Then you need to be on the ice.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh. No. No way. I don’t skate. Like. At all.”

I scan the area until I spot Rick, the rink owner, and then wave him over. “I’m serious. Coach doesn’t get here for another fifteen minutes.” I’m so full of good deeds. Seriously. “Rick! Get this girl some hockey skates!”

Her brows go up. “No. Pe

I laugh. “I won’t hurt ya.”

Rick drops a few sizes on the bench next to us, and Rebecca just stares, uncertain.

Mitch practically sprints out of the locker room, only half geared-up and shirtless, looking between us with panic. Someone must have told him I was talking to his girlfriend.