7. Everly

7

Everly

P encil down, I let out a long breath and handed my American History final to the proctor, a smile barely concealed on my face. Stepping through the large, oak doors of the lecture hall, I felt the weight of pages and study nights lift off my shoulders. Holly had promised to meet me here when she finished, and while I waited, my gaze wandered across campus.

March had brought a shroud of overcast skies, yet the world around me buzzed with life as if in defiance of the somber clouds. Students walked the paths, their laughter and chatter punctuating the air like bird's singing. Fresh buds peeked from branches that only weeks ago were skeletal fingers reaching for a sun hidden by winter's grey. The greenery, tender and vibrant, carpeted the grounds, hinting at nature's impending reclamation.

My eyes traced the paths crisscrossing like veins across the university's heart. Each one led to some nook or cranny I hadn't explored yet; corners of knowledge and experience that seemed so much more accessible now that finals were behind me.

I hugged my jacket tighter around me as a breeze swept through, carrying whispers of coming warmth. In its wake, thoughts of Zack and last night's encounter skated into my mind unbidden. His invitation to that party—was it just friendly or something more? My stomach fluttered as if it harbored its own ecosystem, tiny butterflies taking flight at the mere memory of his smile.

Could Zack be...?

The question hung in my mind, unfinished and fragile like a bubble in the wind. A guy like him—charming and easygoing—what would he see in someone who spent more time with books than at social gatherings? But he had seen me there, on the ice, where I felt most alive.

Although, I wasn't sure if he actually saw me skate, and maybe that was a good thing.

My lips curved into a private smile. The thought of stepping out into a scene I'd only ever read about or seen through screens—it was both exhilarating and terrifying. A party could be a chance to spread wings I wasn't even sure I possessed.

"Holly's going to think I've lost it," I murmured to myself as I pictured her reaction to my recounting yesterday's adventure. She'd been encouraging me to take more risks, to live outside the pages of history books and equations.

"Everly!" Holly's voice cut through my reverie as she approached with her characteristic bounce. "How did it go?"

I turned toward her, thoughts of Zack momentarily shelved as I prepared to share the relief of finishing what had consumed so much of my time these past weeks.

"The last essay question threw me for a loop, but I think I managed to salvage it," I said. "I think. What about you?"

Holly's shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "I'm not sure," she admitted. Her fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on the strap of her bag. "A lot of the questions felt like they had multiple answers." She shook her head, her brows knitting together. "I think I'm going to head back to my dorm and study for my chem final. It's my last one. Want to come with? I know you don't have chem, but still. You could help me."

My thoughts drifted back to the ice, how it glistened under the lights, beckoning. "Actually, I think I'm going to ice skate for a bit," I said. "The Titans are focused on playoffs, and that means more ice time for everyone else. Your dad was kind enough to say the Phys Ed students could come during free skate to get used to it before our official class starts next quarter."

Holly smirked. "Is this about the skate guy?"

I looked away, heat creeping into my cheeks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It is, you stalker," Holly teased. A chuckle escaped her as she gave me a nudge. "Well, have fun. And don't forget to tell me all about it."

Holly's laughter faded into the thrum of campus life as we parted ways, her figure soon swallowed by the throng of students.

Alone now, my steps gravitated toward Pandora's Box. The building loomed ahead, its frosted glass facade reflecting the grey skies above, an icy castle in the midst of a bustling academic kingdom. Pushing through the doors, I entered a world where cold bit at my skin and the scent of freshly zambonied ice filled my lungs. The hum of conversation from the stands mixed with the occasional scrape of skate blades against ice, creating a symphony unique to this frozen haven.

I walked past rows of empty bleachers that stretched up like steps to an icy throne.

After a quick change in the locker room, I approached the skate counter with a heart that seemed to drum louder than usual. My eyes darted around, searching for Zack among the few rink attendants bustling about, but he was nowhere to be seen. I chewed my bottom lip, a knot forming in my stomach. Was I being silly? Perhaps he wasn't even working today.

With a sigh, I glanced over at the rink and there was Cooper, gliding across the ice with an effortless command that drew my gaze. His presence was magnetic; grace and aggression interwoven into each powerful stroke.

From this distance, his scars were not hidden by distance or dim lighting; they were there for all to see, crisscrossing his face like lines on a treasure map that hinted at stories untold. They didn't detract from his rugged features but added a depth that intrigued me more than any flawless facade could.

Cooper moved with the confidence of someone who knew every inch of the ice beneath him, his tall frame cutting through the chill air as if he was part of it. Each pivot and turn was sharp and decisive—there was no hesitation in his movements. It was as though he danced with danger itself, his scars evidence of past partners in this perilous ballet.

Although, I was assuming. I didn't actually know how he got his scars.

I edged closer to the glass without realizing it, drawn in by this solitary figure whose very essence seemed to challenge the stillness of Pandora's Box. He was a lone warrior on a vast battlefield; even without an opponent or audience he skated with a fierce intensity that commanded attention.

As Cooper spun into a sudden stop, ice shavings flying like confetti around him, I caught myself holding my breath. The arena's chill seeped deeper into my bones, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away from him—this man who skated as if each stroke bore his defiance against an unseen adversary.

Cooper's gaze found mine through the pane of glass, his eyes a stark contrast to the icy world around him. For a moment, we were locked in that silent exchange, the world narrowing to just the two of us. His intensity made me feel exposed, like he could see every thought flitting through my mind.

He skated towards the edge of the rink, his movements fluid and commanding. "You need something, sugar?" he asked, stepping off the ice with a practiced ease. "Or are you staring because you like what you see?"

I shifted uncomfortably, my cheeks warming despite the cold air. "Skates, please."

"Skates," he repeated flatly, his voice carrying an edge.

I nodded, feeling small under his scrutiny.

"Why?" His question hung in the air, a challenge more than an inquiry.

"Dean Walker says we could skate," I explained, trying to steady my voice. "I want to skate."

"Oh, you do, do you?" His tone was skeptical, almost accusatory. "Are you trying to be a pain in my ass? Did Walker tell you to do this to me?"

"What? No," I stammered, taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor. "I'm just... I'd like to know how to skate."

Cooper grunted and stepped off the ice entirely. The sound of his skates against the rubber mats echoed in the empty arena as he approached the counter where the skates were stored. He moved with a purpose that suggested he didn't entertain time-wasters.

As he rummaged through a rack of skates, I took a moment to steady my breathing. The intensity of our exchange left me feeling both excited and unnerved. Cooper's presence was like a force of nature—unyielding and unpredictable.

He handed me a pair of skates without another word, his expression unreadable. I took them carefully, trying not to let my nerves show. The skates felt heavy in my hands, a tangible weight that mirrored the anticipation building inside me.

"Thanks," I managed to say.

"You know," he drawled, his voice cutting through the air like a cold wind, "your boyfriend isn't here."

I frowned as I sat down to lace up my skates. "Boyfriend?"

"The skate frat boy," he clarified, his tone dripping with disdain. "He only comes in once a week. So, if you're here for him, you might as well just go."

I ignored the twinge of disappointment that gnawed at me. "As I said," I replied evenly, focusing on threading the laces through the eyelets, "I'm practicing."

Cooper scoffed. "I'm not going to go easy on you," he warned, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not going to like me by the time we're done next quarter, but you'll be able to skate."

I looked up at him, meeting his steely gaze with a defiance of my own. "Well, it's not like you've given me a reason to like you now," I shot back.

His lips twitched with amusement. "Is that right?"

"You've been incredibly rude and antagonistic," I said, tugging the laces tighter with more force than necessary. "You can't even call me by my name but by some condescending moniker."

"Huh," he grunted in response.

With my skates finally laced up, I stood and immediately felt myself wobble precariously. My arms flailed for balance as I nearly pitched forward.

Cooper smirked, watching my struggle with evident satisfaction. "You trying to snap an ankle?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because the way you tie skates is pretty pathetic."

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I steadied myself, gripping the edge of the bench for support. His smug expression made me grit my teeth.

"Here," he said begrudgingly, stepping forward and kneeling to adjust my laces. His hands worked with a practiced efficiency, tightening and securing them in a way that felt both firm and reassuring.

"There," he said after a moment, standing back up and giving me a critical once-over. "Now try not to fall on your face."

I took a tentative step forward, testing the stability of my newly tightened skates. They felt snug and secure—much better than before.

"Thanks," I muttered reluctantly.

"Don't thank me yet," Cooper replied, his tone hardening again. "You've got a long way to go."

With my skates laced up properly, I gingerly made my way to the ice. Each step felt like a test of balance, and I could feel Cooper's eyes on me, measuring every wobble and misstep.

"Let's see what you can do," he said as we stepped onto the ice.

The cold air bit at my cheeks as I pushed off, gliding awkwardly. Cooper skated ahead effortlessly, turning back to watch me struggle. He was a hawk, circling its prey, waiting for any sign of weakness.

"Start with basic forward strides," he ordered, his voice cutting through the chill.

I nodded, focusing on keeping my movements smooth. The ice felt both foreign and familiar beneath my blades. I was still new to this, after all.

"Faster," Cooper barked after a few laps. "You're not here for a leisurely glide."

I pushed harder, my legs burning with each stride. The rhythm of my breathing grew ragged as I tried to keep up with his pace.

"Crossovers," he commanded next. "Left over right."

I stumbled through the first few attempts, my feet tangling awkwardly. Cooper skated alongside me, his presence an unspoken challenge.

"Again," he demanded. "Do it until you get it right."

My legs screamed in protest, but I kept going, forcing myself to focus on each movement. I could feel sweat trickling down my back despite the cold.

"Don't stop now," Cooper called out as I finally managed a decent set of crossovers. "We're just getting started."

He had me move into backward skating drills next. The transition felt jarring; my muscles ached from the unfamiliar motions. My focus wavered as fatigue set in, and I found myself struggling more and more to keep up.

"No breaks," he snapped when I slowed down, panting heavily. "You don't get better by resting."

I pushed through the exhaustion, each glide and pivot becoming a battle against my own body. Then it happened—I misjudged a turn and my feet went out from under me. I hit the ice hard, pain shooting through my hip and elbow.

Cooper skated over quickly and stood above me with an almost amused expression.

"You going to cry, little girl?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension as he extended a hand toward me.

Anger flared within me. I swatted his hand away, refusing to accept his help.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "You got a kick in you, don't you, little killer?" His eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and respect.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in my side, I struggled back onto my feet. Determination burned hotter than any physical ache.

"You don't have to be so mean about it, you know?" I said, my voice barely concealing the frustration bubbling inside me.

Cooper skated over, his presence looming. His eyes narrowed. "The world is a mean place."

"But that doesn't mean you have to be," I shot back, squaring my shoulders.

"Of course it does," he replied without missing a beat. "How can I be anything but this when it's all people expect? Now, do it again."

I clenched my teeth, trying to steady myself as I prepared to go through the drills once more. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, but the stubborn fire inside me refused to be extinguished.

"I'm going to break you, sweetie," Cooper said in a low, rough voice, his voice dripping with malice. "You're going to realize this world is cruel, and when you do, that little good girl nice act is the first thing to go. I can't wait."

I glared at him, confusion mingling with my anger. "Why?" I demanded. "You barely know me. Why do you care?"

He paused, his expression hardening as he considered my question. The silence stretched between us like a taut wire ready to snap.

"Because," he finally said, his tone softer but no less intense. "People like you—you're a reminder of what the world could have been if it weren't so damned broken. But it is. And that means you shouldn't be so… nice."

His words hung in the air, their unexpected vulnerability catching me off guard. For a moment, I saw past the hardened exterior and glimpsed a flicker of something more—something almost human.

"That's stupid," I said.

"Little killer," he said with a grin. "See? That wasn't nice. I'm already on my way to getting you, huh?"

I clenched my teeth together. I didn't hate anyone, but he was really testing me.

"Now," he barked, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Do it again."

I pushed off from the edge of the rink with renewed determination, each stride fueled by a mixture of anger and curiosity. Cooper's harsh words echoed in my mind as I focused on perfecting my technique.

I didn't know what had shaped him into the person he was now, but one thing was certain—I wasn't going to let him break me, even if he wanted to.