Shea

Time withers away.

Connor's gone silent now that his team is out of the playoffs. We swept them, and Cat only let in two goals throughout our series. No rumours about Brenna have been spread. The commotion has died down, letting us live a relatively stable life.

Unless you count the commotion going on in my head. While I feel secure regarding my relationship with Brenna, there's still a lot of uncertainty. Whatever decision I make will have consequences. There's been a lot of push to accept the scholarship. All the guys know now, and Jayden, KJ, Tucker, Noah, and even Cat haven't let up. They think I'm a fool for second-guessing myself.

Every time I weigh the consequences, I conclude I'll miss one too many opportunities if I don't accept the scholarship. There is a stable foundation for Chelsea if I leave. Noah's mom will take her in a heartbeat, and I know Noah will fill in the role of big brother. I'll be able to keep in contact with my friends—everyone's made it clear they want to

Still, doubt weighs on my mind. Promises are always broken. We'll grow apart. We'll find other friends and forget about each other. Maybe not the memories we share, but I fear I'll forget the way Jayden looks at Ian; how Tucker can't stand capers in pasta; how Catina paints her nails blood-red before every playoff game; KJ's corny jokes; and Brenna's liking to hibiscus tea.

It's like that Taylor Swift's song "New Year's Day." I don't want them to become strangers, yet I'm still able to recognize their laughs when we run into each other at the bar or when I see them in videos on social media.

Speaking of Taylor Swift, that's the song I'm listening prior to our first playoff game against Brenna's team. It's not exactly a song I typically listen to to amp myself up for a game. But it's something I need. Everyone needs a little (or a lot) of Taylor Swift in their lives. 

KJ taps me on the shins with his hockey stick.

I remove my AirPods and slip them back into their case, shooting him a look. "What?"

He snorts. "Quit moping, dude. You're killing the buzz."

Jayden nudges KJ. "Leave him alone. That's a big decision to make."

"Hypocrite," I mutter.

Jayden's face splits into a grin. "I'm a minor hypocrite. I'll leave you alone when you tell me to. Every day is a new day, Smith. That means the rules are reset."

I roll my eyes, climbing to my feet. "Well, you know how much I love bending the rules."

KJ laughs as he stands. He claps me on the back. "Ain't that the truth."

Preston, who's just walking by, bumps his shoulder against mine. It's an aggressive and unexpected action. KJ has to steady me, and we stare after Preston. He stops just before the exit. Hockey stick in hand and helmet on, he turns around and sneers at us. "Smith doesn't follow the rules or bend them. He manipulates them. Selfish fucking prick. Can't accept a bet. Smith wants what he wants. Gets what he wants."

Preston's comment shouldn't affect me, but it does. His comment doesn't help my mental capacity. I was already obsessing over selfishness. Hearing it come from Preston, even though his words are valuable as shit, makes me uncomfortable. Makes me question the way I've been weighing my options.

Worries aside, I know I did nothing wrong regarding the bet. Telling Brenna was the only option. She never asked to play a role in it, and I'm lucky she aided me in taking Connor down. The consequences for me could've been much worse.

"I did nothing wrong, Preston," I reply, keeping my voice casual. I'd love to yell at the kid. Maybe knock some sense into him. But we're teammates, and this is an important game. The last thing our team needs is conflict. "The bet was a mistake. All I did was remedy the wrongness and take accountability. It's something that'll weigh on my decisions for the rest of my life."

"Right," he drawls, rolling his eyes. "Because you—"

I take a menacing step forward. "Finish that sentence. I dare you."

Preston switches his hockey stick from one hand to the other. Unlike Connor the other night, he doesn't flinch or hesitate. "You don't scare me, Smith."

"Funny," KJ interjects. "Connor said the same thing. Look where that got him."

Words falter on Preston's tongue. His face turns a light shade of red. Without another word, he turns around and storms down the shadowed hallway, heading to the ice.

KJ and I stare after him.

Jayden is still sitting on the bench. From the corner of my eye, I see him run a hand through his hair. "Jesus. Their egos have been severely damaged. Yet I don't pity them."

KJ snorts. "None of us do. Egos aren't meant to be fragile. It's fucking pathetic." He glances at me, then at Jayden. "You know what else is fucking pathetic?"

We shoot him questionable looks.

He knocks the blade of his hockey stick against the ice. "We are not on the ice yet. We have a team to beat! And that will not happen unless we have as vigorous warm-up!"

I laugh, despite the inner turmoil. This is the first time I'm going into the playoffs against Brenna's team while actually looking forward to having some fun. The competition will be a friendly one. As opposed to what it was before: ruthless and disrespectful. We'll have playful banter and good hockey.

Some of the tension eases from my shoulders as I follow KJ down the hallway.

Win or lose, this'll be a series I'll never forget.

* * *

My team edges past Brenna.

With thirteen seconds left in the third, Catina slid the puck up the ice to Jayden, who had just gotten out of the penalty box. Jayden tucked the puck into the upper left corner of the net, sealing our first win.

"Ugh," Brenna says, leaning back in the passenger seat. "That was such a good game. I'm not even mad we lost. Drew didn't have a chance against Jayden. Once he slid to the right, that is. Had Jayden not been able to fool Drew, I know Drew would've saved it."

I run a hand through my hair as I merge into the other lane. Our turn is coming up soon. "Jayden's always been good at fooling other players."

We're on our way to the café to pick up Chelsea. Noah was looking after her during the game—and not because neither of my parents are home. The issue is, they're both home. Which always results in more fighting and then Chelsea crying. She doesn't need any shit, and Noah agreed.

My gratefulness for Noah aside, I hope he hasn't let her have too much coffee cake. He feeds her the leftovers while also enjoying some himself. That's the excuse he uses. That they're sharing and making good memories.

After we've picked up Chelsea, we're heading back to Brenna's house. It's a lot of driving, but I don't mind. It gives me time to think. Brenna's too busy chatting about hockey and trying to find a song she likes. I'm not trying to be rude, but tuning her out, missing nothing and giving small responses when they're needed is how I'm coping.

There's just... a lot on my mind.

And it all revolves around my decision regarding post-secondary.

Just then, I feel Brenna's hand rest on my forearm.

I glance at her for half a second, then return my gaze to the road ahead.

"Shea. Pull over."

A crease forms between my brows. "What? Why?"

She chuckles, though it sounds a little anxious. "Because you're not concentrating on driving. Let's switch. Then you can tell me what's bothering you."

I suppress a sigh. She's right. Focusing on the road isn't at the forefront of my mind. Turning on my blinker, I turn down Gordon Drive, then left into the Capri Centre area. I park in front of a coffee shop. Brenna and I switch spots without speaking another word. In fact, we don't speak until Brenna is back on the highway.

"So," she says, turning down the music. "Will you tell me what's going on?"

"The usual," I shrug. "Same old shit."

"Your shrugging has always pissed me off," she comments.

A pair of chuckles reverberates through the vehicle. We exchange a humoured glance. 

Brenna expels a deep breath. "I'm going to say my part, regardless of if you want to hear it or not. You'd be a fool to give up your scholarship. Tuition money in Canada and the USA is expensive. If you accept that scholarship, any money you've saved up can contribute to textbooks, food, housing, et cetera."

I rest my elbow against the window, resting my chin in my palm as I gaze at the blurring traffic and buildings. We're almost at the café; I can see the erect landmark buildings ahead, almost blending with the grey, gloomy sky.

She takes a deep breath this time. "Shea, you think too much with your heart. Not your head. However, when you're on the ice, it's a combination. You use your heart just as much as you use your head. That's what makes you such an excellent hockey player. Off the ice, you never put yourself first. Even prior to us liking each other again, every decision you made was based on Chelsea." She glances at me. "If you'd won the bet, would you have used it for university? The money? Answer me with honesty. Trust me, I'll know if you're lying."

Goddamn her. She knows me too well. Sure, the bet provided me with a viable sum for university. Would I have used it? Probably not. Chelsea wants to play hockey and continue soccer. Sports are expensive. Although Mom and Dad would've paid the lump sum, I would've used that money to provide her with quality equipment.

"No," I sigh. "The money would've been allocated elsewhere."

A know-it-all-look appears on her face. "Knew it. Maybe you weren't as bad as I thought."

I snort. "Don't say that. I was a terrible person. And I'll never let that happen again."

Brenna turns right off of the highway, pulling into the parking lot in front of the café. Several vehicles are parked, and I can see full booths and tables through the glass windows. Noah and Chelsea are behind the counter, along with some of our other family members. I watch as Noah, using tongs, removes a scone from the display and eases it into the paper bag Chelsea's holding open.

It warms my heart. I'll miss this. Working with Noah and Chelsea. Eating the leftovers with them and drinking stale cups of coffee when I'm running low on energy after a hockey game or practice.

But while it warms my heart, it also scares me. My chest seizes with fear and my stomach does a funny flip. It's as if I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. A warning that everything's about to change. I'll be eighteen this year. An adult. Graduating high school. Everything will change; it's inevitable.

And I'm not sure I like change.

Brenna shifts into Park and cuts the engine. She removes the keys, setting them on the console, then swivels in her seat to look at me. I return her gaze, wondering what she sees in mine.

"It's okay to be afraid. Hell, I'm scared to live on-campus at UBC. To join the women's hockey team."

Several seconds pass before I realize what she's said. My mouth drops open. "Holy fuck. You made the team?"

She grins. "I have a tryout slot to fill."

I roll my eyes. Brenna doesn't need a tryout. She'll make the team. She's smart and talented. They'd be a fool not to have someone with talent and devotion and—

My minds cuts me off.

Fuck. I'm a hypocrite.

There's a reason I received this scholarship. One parallel to Brenna's. Those terms that were running through my head describe me, too. Just as much as they describe KJ, Jayden, Cat, and Hunter. And I think, although I already knew that, I needed Brenna to point it out. 

With a smug smirk on her lips, Brenna leans back and raises her eyebrows. "You just had a moment of realization."

I glance down at my palms. They're full of callouses and there's a scar across my left palm from a failed attempt at changing my skate blades when I was a kid.

"I have to go," I murmur. "To Boston."

My gaze flicks to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows as jolts of pain and excitement strike my heart. Noah tosses his head back, laughing, as Chelsea sneaks a bite of coffee cake remnants. They're standing off to the side now, cutting new pieces. I want to tell my cousin it's unsanitary to handle food that way, especially food we're selling, but too much emotion lives in my heart.

"Leaving is hard."

When I look at Brenna, she's staring through the windows, too.

"Lives are made of experiences. They help us mould ourselves into who we want to be. What we want to represent. If we hold ourselves back, what's the point of living? We need opportunities with experiences in order to grow."

She leans over and wraps her arm around my shoulders. "We have to accept things will change, Shea. Change is inevitable. The seasons change, the landscape, our representations in the mirror. All we can do is live. Be thankful for our opportunities."

I press my cheek against hers, inhaling lavender and vanilla. All I want to do is memorize her. To remember every moment we spent together.

Because something tells me we're breaking up after we graduate.