Page 52 of Embrace

“It’s nothing illegal,” I say.

Dylan relaxes in his spot on the couch, grabbing a throw pillow before he curls into fetal position. Figure skating seems to really be taking a toll on him. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“I hurt someone’s feelings.”

“Whose?”

“My tutor.”

Cole seems interested now. “The hot redhead?”

“Her hair isscarlet.”

“She’s got this substitute teacher vibe about her. She passed by me in the quad the other day, and I didn’t move for like five minutes. She smells like fruit.”

Orange, I think to myself. I move to stand at the center of the room so I can have all their attention. “I did something that made her feel like I invaded her privacy, and I need to get on her good side again.”

Eli catches our attention on the phone. “Say you’re sorry. Get her flowers.”

I tilt my head. “But I don’t know what kind of flowers she likes.”

“Find out,” they all yell in unison.

“Jeez, okay. But I said I’m sorry. That didn’t work. I need to go bigger.”

“I think you need to meet her where she’s at. You don’t always need a big declaration, Kian. It just seems like she wants honesty,” Aiden says.

“Why don’t you write her something,” Dylan mumbles from his half-asleep state on the couch. But I already wrote her a letter. I even gave it to the librarian in hopes she would have to take it. But when I went back to check if she’d responded, there was nothing.

“I did,” I tell them. “She wrote ‘return to sender’ on my letter and gave it back to the librarian. She hasn’t been at her usual spot since.”

“Yikes,” one of the guys mutters. Then our alarms go off at the same time, signaling us for practice. With absolutely zero clarity on my predicament, I head upstairs to get changed for the rink.

We’re dressed and out of the house in minutes, and the moment I get on the ice, I’m unfocused. I don’t hit a single play we went over, and Kilner is oddly nice about it. I wonder why he’s changed his usual approach of barking orders until we start playing how we should. It worked in the past, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t have today.

“Ishida, what the hell is going on?” he shouts loudly enough it echoes through the slush of pucks and the low buzzing of the temperature gauge.

I drop my shoulders, skating over to him. “I hurt someone.”

Kilner deadpans, “Do I need a shovel?”

“No!” I let out an exasperated breath. “Why does everyone think that?”

“Because you can barely hurt an insect, but if it’s causing you this much devastation, it’s gotta be big. Tell me what’s going on so you can stop derailing practice.”

I lean against the boards. “I hurt someone’s feelings. I invaded her privacy.”

“Did you apologize?” he asks, actually being serious about this.

“A dozen times. I even wrote her a letter but she won’t accept it.”

“Try again,” Coach says simply. “You want to be the kind of guy who gives up after one shitty game?”

“Game?”

“You know what I mean. You have to show people they’re worth the trouble. So tryagain.”

“Isn’t that overkill?”