23. Ziggy

Chapter twenty-three

Ziggy

L ate August wasn't as hot as our earlier heatwaves, but the warm weather still clung to Whistleport like a second skin. Inside Tidal Grounds, all was cool and comfortable, with the air conditioning humming a soothing lullaby.

I sipped my iced coffee, busying myself by tracing random abstract patterns in the condensation on the glass. Deciding that I couldn't procrastinate any longer, I pulled a folded paper out of my jeans pocket and a pen out of my shirt pocket. Staring at the multiple cross-outs and scribbled replacement words, I made a few more last-minute changes to my poem. It was one I'd been writing and editing since mid-July.

Silas went all out for the final poetry night of the season. He replaced the usual fairy lights with larger multi-colored bulbs that circled the room. The espresso machine was festive, reflecting a rainbow of bright colors.

He placed Mason jars full of seasonal wildflowers—goldenrod, asters, and black-eyed Susans—on each table. Fall was just around the corner, and the flowers represented summer's last hurrah.

The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee mingled with the salt-tinged breeze sneaking through the open windows. It was an olfactory snapshot that reminded me of many things I loved about my hometown. I wished I could capture it in a bottle and take it with me to college.

As I put the finishing touches on my poem, I scanned the room. It was still early, but many familiar faces were already gathering, wanting to make sure they didn't miss out on Silas's latest brew and the buffet table full of baked goods.

Dottie Perkins held court at her usual table, regaling a group of enraptured listeners with the new gossipy stories she'd gathered over the past month. Dad sat in the corner, looking simultaneously proud and uncomfortable, his callused hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee. Next to him, Mom caught my eye and offered me an encouraging smile that did little to calm the butterflies in my stomach.

Finally, I found Kade and the rest of the world blurred into soft focus. He raised an eyebrow, a silent question mark I answered with a slight nod.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and my heart stutter-stepped in my chest. Three months ago, I couldn't have imagined sharing poetry—let alone my heart—with my on-ice rival. Now, I couldn't fathom spending extended time in Whistleport without him.

Rory's authoritative voice cut through the low hum of conversation, silencing even Dottie mid-sentence. "Welcome, everyone, to our final poetry night of the summer." He paused, allowing a moment for the bittersweet sighs that spread through the audience.

"We've had quite a journey these past few months, haven't we? Terrible threats from the heatwaves and the massive fires in the harbor have failed to tarnish our community spirit. Tonight, we'll hear from both familiar voices and some surprises. So, without further ado, let's dive in. First up, we have Ziggy Knickerbocker."

The floor creaked beneath my feet as I stood, my chair scraping against the hardwood. My heartbeats thundered against my ribcage as I made my way to the podium. With shaky hands, I unfurled the paper that held more than just words—it was the story of Kade and me, thinly veiled in metaphor and line breaks.

I cleared my throat, my voice wavering slightly as I began:

"In the crucible of summer, Ice melts, revealing hidden depths. Rivals become allies. Then something more profound. The rink, once a battleground, Now a canvas for new choreography. Two sticks, once crossed in combat Now trace parallel lines, A geometry of understanding.

Sweat-slicked skin and stolen glances, Replace the clash of body checks. In the suffocating heat, We find a different kind of breathlessness. Our pulses race not from exertion, But from the thrill of discovery.

The town watches, whispers, As we skate on the thin ice of expectation. But in each other's eyes we find The strength to pirouette past judgment. Summer days stretch long and lazy. Yet time slips through our fingers like sand.

We chase it down empty streets, Laughing beneath a canopy of stars. Every moment a treasure. Every touch a revelation. In shared silences we speak volumes, In heated debates we find common ground.

As August wanes, we feel the pull Of separate paths, diverging futures. But distance is just another challenge, A new rink to conquer together. In the heat of summer's forge, We've crafted something unbreakable.

And in the chill of coming autumn, We'll find our true north in each other."

The last word hung in the air for a heartbeat before a round of applause broke the spell. I blinked, returning from what I called poetry space, suddenly aware of the room full of people.

Dad's eyes shone with pride. Mom was openly weeping, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. And Kade... he stared at me with a dropped jaw. He appeared so vulnerable that it took my breath away.

As I made my way back to my seat on shaky legs, Rory squeezed my shoulder. "That was something special, Ziggy," he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. Turning back to the mic, he announced the next reader. "And now, for something completely different, Eric Callahan with... a haiku about coding?"

Eric bounded to the stage with his characteristic energy, grinning as he adjusted the mic. "Hey, everyone. So, yeah, I wrote a haiku about coding. Don't judge me too harshly, okay? It came to me under the spell of too much caffeine. Some of us can't all be secret poetry prodigies like Ziggy here."

He took a deep breath and recited:

"Semicolons missed Syntax errors haunt my dreams Coffee, my savior"

The room erupted in laughter and applause. I playfully shook my head at my best friend's unexpected foray into poetry. Our eyes met across the room, instantly bringing back memories of our shared childhood and the simplicity of our friendship before the current summer had changed everything.

As the night wound down, Kade and I sat together, finding a quiet corner near the back of the café. The last ice cubes in my coffee had long since melted, leaving behind a weak and watery blend.

Kade tapped his index finger on my forearm. "That poem of yours…"

"Yeah. I suspect you figured it out. It's about us, the summer, and everything."

He wove his fingers together with mine. "It was beautiful, Zig. You have such an incredible gift for words. You made your mom cry."

"I don't know where they come from," I admitted, my thumb brushing over his knuckles. "But I guess you inspired me on this one. The entire summer has had a poetic feel, or maybe it's more reminiscent of an oddball series on Netflix."

Kade laughed softly. The warm brown of his irises reminded me of the coffee beans before I put them in the grinder. He shared his observation. "I know what you mean. When I came to Whistleport, I never expected... this. You. Us."

As the poetry night wound down, our friends and neighbors slowly filed out leaving only us and Silas behind. He busied himself, wiping down tables, tactfully giving us space for what we both knew would be a difficult conversation.

Kade swallowed the last of his coffee. "I guess we should talk about... you know."

A lump immediately formed in my throat. "Yeah. The whole long-distance thing."

Kade reached across the table, taking my hand in his. "We're only going to be three hours apart. That's not so bad, right?"

"It could be a whole lot worse," I said, trying to match his optimistic tone. We can do weekends and take turns visiting each other."

"Exactly. I've got my car, and there are buses from Orono to Manchester or flights from Bangor. I already looked it up."

I smiled. "Of course you did. You're such a planner."

"Hey, one of us has to be," he teased, but his expression was serious. "I'm not going to let this slip away, Zig. We've worked too hard to get here."

"I know," I said softly. "I just... it's going to be weird, you know? Not seeing you every day. Not being able to drop by the rink or meet up at Tidal Grounds whenever we want."

Kade squeezed my hand. "We'll make it work. We've got phones and video calls. Hell, I'll write you actual letters on paper if that's what it takes."

I chuckled, picturing Kade hunched over a desk, pen in hand. "I'd like that, actually. It'd be nice to have something real to hold onto when I'm missing you."

"Done," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You'll be drowning in sappy love letters by Halloween."

"What about hockey?" I asked, raising the concern that had been nagging at me. "We'll be playing against each other."

Kade's expression grew serious. "On the ice, we'll play our hearts out for our teams. Look at how we are in one-on-one competition. That last one was some of the most intense hockey I ever played. It won't be any different from last season. But off the ice? We're us. Always."

I nodded, feeling a weight lift off my chest. "Agreed. No matter what happens in games, it doesn't affect us."

"Exactly," Kade said. "And hey, think of it this way—now we have an excuse to study each other's play style even more closely."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm not sure play style is what I'd be watching."

Kade chuckled. "Seriously, Ziggy. We'll make time for each other. Study sessions over video call, watching the same movie on Netflix, sending stupid memes at 2 a.m...."

I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement bubbling up inside me. "We can tell ourselves it won't be, but it's going to be hard. I know it will."

Kade nodded, his grip on my hand tightening. "Yeah, that's true. But you know what? I think that's okay because anything worth having is worth fighting for. And this? Us? It's worth everything."

Tears started to prickle at the corners of my eyes. "When did you get so wise?"

"It must be all that time I've been spending with a certain poetry-writing hockey player. He's rubbing off on me."

I leaned across the table and playfully rubbed my nose against Kade's. "I love you," I whispered, the words still new enough to send a thrill through me. "We're going to make this work."

"Damn straight we are," he murmured back. "I love you too. Distance doesn't stand a chance against us."

As we sat there, hands intertwined, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Yes, the coming months would be challenging. There would be missed calls, busy schedules, and moments of loneliness. But there would also be surprise visits, care packages inspired by inside jokes, and the knowledge that we'd be stronger at the end of it all for having weathered the distance.

Kade scooted his chair to my side of the table and pulled me close. I breathed him in. "It might sound weird, but I think you'll have to send me some sandalwood shampoo so I can smell you."

"Deal. We'll be back here before you know it," he whispered. "And in the meantime, we'll make new memories. Different rinks, different coffee shops... but always us."

Our lips met in a kiss that tasted of promise and possibility, of summer's end and new beginnings. When we parted, I saw our future reflected in Kade's eyes—challenges, yes, but also hope, growth, and a love that was just beginning to blossom.

"I love you," I said again. "God, I love you so much."

His smile was brighter than all the stars above Whistleport. "I love you too, more than I ever thought possible."

Outside Tidal Grounds, we stood together for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, neither wanting to be the first to let go. But finally, with one last lingering kiss, we parted.

As I walked home alone, I thought about the boy I'd been at the start of summer, confused about who I was, and marveled at the person I'd become. The journey hadn't been easy, but every stumble and moment of doubt led me forward.

The following day, alone in my room, I packed my bags for college, tucking in mementos of the summer—a pebble from the beach where we'd shared our second kiss, a napkin from Tidal Grounds with a hastily scribbled verse, and the ticket stub from our first official date at the old Bijou theater. Each item was a chapter in the story of us, one that we were still writing.

When I zipped up my duffel bag, I felt an unusual mix of nostalgia and excitement about the future. I had a number of beginnings and endings to face in the coming months. Whatever challenges lay ahead—juggling hockey and academics, navigating a long-distance relationship, and securing my place on the hockey team—I knew one thing for certain: I was heading into the new season older, wiser, and irrevocably in love.