I am supposed to be in the lab doing research from 10am till noon today but it is 11:30 and I am already anxiously checking the clock. Tuesday I lost track of time and Francesca beat me to the rink, I refuse to be beat again. I want to set up the cones differently and no way she will listen to my suggestion, so my only way to get what I want is to get there first and set it up myself.

"Hey dude." Andrew, my supervisor, comes over to where I am frantically writing in my beat up lab book. This is my second one this year because the last one accidentally got covered in chemicals. Thankfully on my first day Andrew told me to scan my notebook before I leave the lab everyday, so I only lost a few notes from that day which I was able to rewrite.

"Hey," I reply not even looking up at him. Andrew is cool but he definitely pushes me. He sees what I am capable of and wants me to reach my potential. The only issue is I am currently gassed. I am basically running on empty trying to keep this undefeated season alive. Hockey is a team sport but yet I still put the entire weight of the team on my shoulders.

"Your rat looks plump," he remarks poking at the rat in the cage next to me.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it is rude to comment on a ladies weight Drew?"

"Sorry sorry," he laughs looking over my shoulder at my notes. "Not getting the results you want today?"

"No," I sigh in frustration. "My head just isn't in it today."

"Well why not?" Drew is 50% my supervisor but also 50% my therapist. Besides Bray and Stan, I usually don't complain to anyone else but Drew has a way of dragging everything out of me.

"I was late to my ice time Tuesday and the figure skater, that I have to share with, split the ice and it really didn't work for what I was trying to practice and we play Penn State at Penn State this weekend and last time we played them it was tight and their home games are insane and I had to break up a fight in the basement yesterday."

"Your team is fighting?" Drew looks mildly horrified, as a former athlete, at the idea of our team breaking apart and fighting.

"God no, they bought these stupid toy drones, probably spent stupid money on them, and now they host drone fights in the basement."

"Drone fights."

"Drone fights," I repeat, the exhaustion hitting me as Drew listens to all my stresses and worries.

"But classes are ok? You know I was a Chem Major in undergrad. I can help if you need."

"Classes are the easy part, it is everything else."

Drew nods in understanding looking at my disaster of a station. Everything I did today went wrong and the frustration is evident in the test tubes and other equipment spread out haphazardly. "Scan your notes and get out of here, I will clean up."

I don't even bother fighting him. Instead I adjust my black backwards hat, tuck my pencil behind my ear and walk off to the copy machine. Scanning the two pages of pretty much useless notes from today's failure, I check my watch for the time. It is only 11:45, plenty of time to beat Francesca.

I thank Drew and put my notebook in my little cubby, along with my lab coat and safety glasses, before exiting the lab building to my car. I drive to the rink quickly, my car barely having time to heat up but that is better than the poor suckers who are footing it in the cold and snow. As much as my parents suck I am grateful for my car. The constant gaslighting, verbal attacks and manipulation is slightly offset with the fact I don't have to walk everywhere and risk freezing my dick off.

"You're early," Josh notes as I enter his office to grab the cones. Barb is sitting on the couch, that is at least double my age, wrapped in a blanket watching him work. My parents might have taught me exactly what a toxic relationship is but Barb and Josh have shown me that not every relationship is like that.

"I don't like being second." I have a smug smile on my face as I grab the cones and head to the ice.

20 minutes later my skates are on, the cones are set up and I have already finished my warm up. Francesca bundled like the Michelin tire dude enters through the front doors in a near sprint. She is lugging her backpack and skating bag both threatening to topple her small frame.

"Hey Beck," I yell purposely startling her.

"Fuck," she curses loudly when she notices me on the ice. "The cones are wrong."

"I like this way better, I think it will work better for both of us." It is true though, I am not just bullshitting her, it will benefit both of us to set up cones like this. Tuesday while she was skating there were a few times she almost skated right into the cones, though she recovered so easily you'd almost think it was intentional.

"Sooo," she drags as she finally laces up her skates and steps onto the ice. Last time she was closer to the door to get on the ice but today I put myself closer so I didn't have to tip toe over her tiny potholes.

"What?" I know what just off the evil grin lighting up her face. Her nose and cheeks are bright pink from the cold and her eyes are dancing with excitement about the never ending torture I know is about to come.

"Your team, are they thinking about changing sports? Maybe just wanted to see how real athletes skate? If they need help, I am sure I can find time in my schedule to teach them how to skate if they need, I love doing charity work." She looks so proud of herself especially as my face begins to heat in embarrassment.

I knew yesterday as soon as Bray burst through the locker room door panting, that him and his jolly band of morons had done something stupid. What I hadn't expected, was my housemates to be so interested in the ice skater whose music we picked together during warmups for Saturday's game. And even if I had expected them to care so much, I would have thought social media stalking would be enough, not actually stalking her while she practiced. But in retrospect I should have known better. Of course upon remembering the figure skaters were on the ice practicing, they all marched their asses upstairs to find Francesca, because anything else would have saved my dignity and god forbid they let that happen.

"They were...they just wanted to-..." I have nothing. I didn't think of an actual excuse for why they were there watching her and her team practice. Another mistake on my part.

"Hey it's fine," she says, skating backwards toward her side with complete ease. "Just glad to know I have gotten under your skin Carson."

"You haven't," I protest skating forward after her.

"Oh but I have," she teases, stepping over the line of cones and skating slow circles as I stand at the line I created, fuming.

"Have not," I counter.

"Have to," she sing songs.

Before I can fight her anymore she puts her music on and begins skating. It looks like since Tuesday she has planned a routine for the song I picked. I begin to skate but as she jumps, launching herself through the air, I pause to admire her skating, actually impressed. Just like my teammates were yesterday.

After they all piled into the locker room out of breath and as red as a firetruck, I quickly began drilling them for answers before Coach walked in. I was quickly informed that the brain trust got curious about Francesca after hearing me bitch about her yet still spend hours researching trying to find her the best song. I know what is is like being completely dedicated to your sport and I had no intention of fucking with her music and hurting her. Anyways the peanut gallery heard the figure skaters on the ice and all thought they were very inconspicuous hiding in the stands. Because 8 beefy hockey players could ever be inconspicuous.

No surprise that they were quickly spotted and Francesca, knowing instantly why they were there, decided to make their little trip worthwhile. From what I heard, though none of us exactly know anything about figure skating, is she looked flawless. Flawless enough that for the last 24 hours it is all our house can talk about. I have already had a few guys ask me to slip her their number, all of them going completely mush for this girl.

As I pause to adjust my skate, I watch her. Her eyes are closed and she is listening intently to the song. Her body moves with the music, her feet knowing exactly where to go without her looking. She is clearly in her element and it shows. Besides myself, I have seen few people look so at peace on the ice and I have to admit I am even more impressed. Not impressed enough to drop our childish feud over ice but still impressed nonetheless.

I manage to regain my focus and have a really productive hour on the ice. I feel like I feed off of Francesca, her focus contagious. But I think in a way we push each other. I notice her stealing glances and every time she looks away she pushes herself just a little harder. When I look at her, I find myself trying a little bit harder not wanting to be shown up. Our practices have become mini competitions except there is never a winner.

"My song choice is amazing," I compliment myself as she steps off the ice. She doesn't even bother replying, instead rolling her eyes as she unzips her sweater and takes it off so she is just in leggings and a thin tank top. I now see why the guys were tripping over themselves. I knew she had a good body even under her oversized sweaters I could tell, but wow. Her legs are thin but muscular and as she lifts her water to her mouth I can see the clear definition in her arms and shoulders. Whatever her lifting schedule is, she should pass it along to a few of the guys on the team because they would kill for arms like hers.

"So Beck, going to admit my cone setup was better?" I am not sure why I insist on starting with her but I can't stop myself.

"You didn't do a horrendous job, It will work I guess."

"You guess? So you're saying you're going to go back to setting them up your way instead?"

"Well," she hesitates, looking at the ice.

"Just admit it, I am a genius."

"Lets not go that far, there were only two ways to possibly split the ice and of course one way was going to be better than the other. It is simple trial and error."

"And you made the error," I remind her.

"Child," she mutters as she shoves her skates away and puts on her boots. I slip on my boots at the same time and watch as she struggles to get all her layers on and get her bags situated.

I should offer to help but I know she won't take it. She is as stubborn and as proud as I am and I know I wouldn't accept the help either.

"Bye Carson," she says while waddling out in the Michelin man look.

"Bye Beck," I call as I stand and walk off to get myself a hot chocolate. It is bitterly cold out today and I could use the warmth before I brave the cold to my car.

A few minutes later, with warm hot chocolate in hand, I jog to my car and start it quickly, grateful as the heat blasts through the vents. As I drive home I notice a familiar blob trugging along and though I have a feeling I know what is about to happen, I slow down anyways.

"Beck," I yell out the open window.

The blob looks at me and her face, which is already red, turns redder. "Go Ryder," she bites and I know her pride and embarrassment right now are overriding her sensible side.

"Come on, it's a ride, don't act like I am some creep trying to kidnap you." This earns me a little smile but still she trudges on. If I wasn't cold and annoyed I think I would appreciate that she is just as bratty and stubborn as I am.

"My apartment is close by, it's fine."

"No it's not, my momma raised me right, now get your ass in or we are about to learn about stranger danger while I shove you in the fucking trunk of this car."

"Weirdo," she laughs but I can tell I am finally breaking her. Reluctantly she turns toward the car and I come to a complete stop so she can climb in.

The ride to her place is silent but I learn that her place was in fact not close by, shocker. When I park in the back of her building she whispers a soft but gracious thank you and scurries out of the car with her stuff.