Carvings in the Ice

"Anna... Anna! Where the hell is your head today?"
She gritted her teeth, picking herself up off the ice once more. This had to be the tenth time in a half-hour that she'd fallen. Every time hurt a little bit more, and made her already spiked temper flare a little hotter. Tanya skated up to her, reaching out a hand. "Okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Annabelle replied after a pause, accepting the help.
"Just focus. Why's this so hard?"
"Look, I don't know, okay. I'm not trying to fall."
"I know," Tanya said evenly. "Just try harder. That's all."
I am trying, as hard as I fucking can, she wanted to retort. But it was no use. Rick was pissed at her, no doubt because he'd seen her coming back from Jonathan's dorm too late for his liking. It was only eleven o'clock, she'd told him, it wasn't two in the morning, it wasn't even midnight. And so what if she'd fooled around with him, maybe done a couple of things she shouldn't have? It was worth it, to feel close to someone, to feel his breath on her skin, his hands touching her in places she'd only ever imagined could feel so good...to find out what turned him on, ever so slightly, and to get to the very edge of a dangerous place without ever falling into the unknown region...
"Annabelle."
She blinked, finding herself back inside an empty arena, the chill of the ice around her. Rick was standing, arms crossed. "Could we get started this century?"
She set her jaw, biting back a swear word or two, and began to whirl across the ice again.

"Toews! Get your shit together!"
Jonathan slammed his stick on the ice, frustration building up in his gut like a bad meal. He couldn't get anything right today- his passes were to the feet, not the stick, and his shots missed everything. He'd even fallen a couple of times. It got to the point where even Mike was asking, "Jonny, what the fuck, man?"
"I don't know," he muttered, slumping on the bench and taking a drink of water. This was not the time for him to be playing awfully. He'd been on a roll since the tourney had started, and Switzerland wasn't going to pull back for anyone. Tonight was a big one. Every night was a big one.
But all he could think of was what went right the night before. Off the ice. In his dorm room, with Annabelle, as she lay beneath him, her hands stroking his chest and guiding him where she wanted him to be. Her body was warm, inviting, fit but just soft enough for him to take comfort. He couldn't get over how sure she was with her touch, how she found his spots so quickly and yet was still so able to keep them from going too far. In the end, though, all he could think about was what would come next.
"TAZER!"
Sidney Crosby shouted at him from the ice. "Let's go!" Disoriented and flushing with both anger and embarrassment, he threw himself over the bench and into the fray, somehow scoring a goal on the next practice shift.