Carvings in the Ice

"Psst, hey!"
Annabelle lifted the pillow off of her head slowly. Mirai stood there, dark hair pulled back into a high bun. "You did really good today, Anna. I just wanted to let you know," she said timidly, her voice quiet and high-pitched.
Anna sighed and smiled, flattered by the younger one's compliment. "Thanks, hon. So did you."
"Are you okay? You look really... bummed out."
She made a so-so gesture with her hand. "I feel like... I don't know... something's not right. I mean, I wasn't thinking I was BETTER than Mao or Yu-Na, but..."
"I know. It still sucks," Mirai finished, looking sympathetic as she perched on the edge of Anna's bed. "There's still the long program, though. That's what Frank keeps telling me."
"He's a smart man," Anna murmured, making Mirai giggle. Then there was a knock at the door. "Should I get it?" Mirai asked. With a shrug from Anna, she moved to open the door. There in the doorway stood Patrick, a sheepish look on his baby face, running a hand through his hair. He blinked when he saw Mirai standing there. "Hey," he said slowly. "Um..."
"She's too young, Pat," Anna told him. "What do you want?"
"God, Annabelle, I'm not a fucking creep," he said, annoyed, and immediately Anna regretted what she'd said. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. That's all. I texted Jonny, but he's not answering. I figured I'd come talk to you. Whatever I did... I'm sorry. Okay?"
He finished and dropped his arms, the look in his eyes tired and frustrated. Anna rose and went to him, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry too," she said into his ear. "Look, I'm just angry and annoyed about tonight. I thought I'd be better than this."
"But you're so good already. Just relax. You don't think I have my own shit to worry about?"
She looked at him and then swore. "Oh, my God, I forgot- the game tomorrow, I-"
"If you can't make it, don't worry, I just thought you'd like to see me play. US play. It is U.S.- Canada, you know," he pointed out, the glimmer of mischief already back in his blue eyes. "So maybe you'll see Jonny tomorrow, too."
She rolled her eyes and pulled away. "If he doesn't hate me."
"Naw, he doesn't. He's just a little shy. Probably wasn't expecting you to be so irritated either." He shrugged. "Dude thinks everyone loves him."
"Oh, so he's like you?" She nudged him. "All of a sudden, I'm not interested."
He laughed, and looked at Mirai sitting on Anna's bed. "I'm Pat, by the way. Sorry."
She looked up, surprised. "Oh, hi, I'm Mirai."
"Oh, yeah, sorry... shit, I forgot my manners."
"You have those?" he teased.
"Shut up," she replied. "Mirai, Patrick. Patrick, Mirai. She's my teammate."
Mirai smiled. "And you play...?"
"Hockey. Right wing. Best there is."
"Yeah, he's not bad for a small guy." Anna winked. "Okay, get out. You need rest and so do I. Canada tomorrow. Right?"
"Right," he repeated, looking confused. "Um..."
"What? You gotta win, right?"
"Sure... sure. Right. I'll just... go, then."
As the door closed behind him, Mirai looked at Anna with a puzzled expression. "When all else fails," Anna told her, "just confuse the everloving hell out of him. He'll never know how to react." Mirai laughed, and the rest of the night passed peacefully.

Jonathan lay on his back, the room dark. He could hear the gentle snores of his roommate, Mike Richards, in the bed across the way. He should have been fast asleep by this point as well, but he couldn't find the strength to close his eyes.
It was just a stupid misunderstanding. That was all. So why was he so bothered by it? Why, when he saw those beautiful hazel eyes narrow, did he feel like the world had turned on him? It wasn't like she was the first girl to reject him. Just the first one that, he felt, could actually be on his level...
He punched his pillow, struggling to clear his head. Damn it. This was no time to be thinking about shit like this. So what if this was different, that every girl was basically the same up until the striking figure skater with the intense, passionate eyes spun her way into his mind's eye? He hadn't even had a real CONVERSATION with her, for crying out loud. What was he expecting? A marriage vow?
"Stupid," he whispered, the word sounding harsh to him even in his own voice. Mike stirred and turned over, sleeping on. Lucky bastard. Jonathan sighed, looking at the text message Pat had sent him once more.
"Hey dude. Rlly sorry for tonite. Didn't know it would happen. gl tmrw."
Might as well reply and be civil. He flipped it open, started typing.
"It's ok. gl to u too. night."
SENT, his phone told him, and suddenly he felt tired. He turned off the phone, sunk into the mattress and closed his eyes, and before he knew it the room was bright with sunshine, Mike was whistling in the bathroom and it was time for breakfast before the morning skate.