Our Overtime: Ice League Book 1 (The Ice League Series)

I was going to surprise her, but I heard something…

It was my girlfriend’s birthday today. She was turning seventeen. That meant we’d been dating for a full year. We were the couple everyone wanted to be. She sat in the stands and cheered me on every game and I cheered her on at her competitions. We even supported each other and pushed each other during our training. Thank God I made the Griffins again this year. I knew if I didn’t make the team it would mean I’d have to go back home to Vancouver. No way did I want that. I needed to stay on the Griffins and with the same billet family in order to stay near Jules. My billet family knew Jules and probably knew that I snuck out to see her, but it didn’t seem like they cared. Her family lived here and she’d been training out of the Ice League since she was five. She would be riding out her figure skating career here. So, here’s where I would stay. So actually, she made me better.

But that sound… almost like… barfing. Why would Jules be barfing? She didn’t seem sick… she wasn’t pregnant, she was a virgin. I mean- I’d know. I was the one trying to get in her pants- or like- trying not to get in her pants. Because I wanted to. But I didn’t want to unless she wanted me too… but why else did people barf? I didn’t want to answer that because I knew why other figure skaters barfed and that scared the shit out of me… but I couldn’t see her doing that.

“Babe,” I whisper yelled into the figure skaters’ locker room.

I heard muffled crying then. Maybe practice didn’t go so well today. Happens. She really wasn’t a crier though.

“Jules, that you?” I wasn’t exactly supposed to be in the girls’ locker room. I made my way to the painted cinder block partition that housed the locker room’s bathroom.

Jules was on the floor by the toilet, her legs pulled up against her chest. She still had her skates and skate guards on. She was so tiny, and her skates made her legs look even skinnier. She was supposed to be on the ice. I was going to leave flowers by her bag as a surprise for her when she got off.

My beautiful Jules. Even with eye makeup smeared and running down her face, she was the most beautiful girl. Her hair pulled up in a bun, her blue eyes shining at me through tears.

She dropped her head against her boney knees. “Grey, please go,” she said weakly.

“Well, first off, fuck that,” I told her as I plopped down next to her and put the flowers I’d bought her by her side. I started rubbing her back and we sat there peacefully for a minute.

“Hey,” I told her, waiting for her to look up at me.

But she wouldn’t. She wasn’t ready to talk, but I’d make her. I was not going to leave this topic alone. I would not turn a blind eye to this. No way in hell. She was my girl to protect.

“Jules,” I said as softly as I could. “Look at me.”

She turned her head so she could eye me slightly.

“What’s going on?” I asked her.

“It’s just stress,” she sniffed. “It doesn’t matter, everything’s fine.”

She was not fine. Her body was trembling like she’d just had a panic attack.

I knew regionals was coming up for her and that it would probably be her last year competing. I really couldn’t understand where her head was at these days. Skating was important to her, but at the same time, she couldn’t stand it.

She was burnt out and it’d been getting worse this past year. I could feel it weighing on her, especially lately- her usual bubbly self was waning and her smile seemed forced.

“It’s not fine,” I told her.

I let my head fall back against the wall but kept rubbing her back. I kind of felt like a failure of a boyfriend then. Why didn’t I pry when I thought she looked weak and upset the other day?

“If going to regionals is going to make you sick, you shouldn’t go,” I told her firmly.

She stiffened under my hand, “Grey, you can’t tell anyone.”

I didn’t respond right away. The sport was becoming toxic for her and I hated it. I could tell from watching her go through it that this sport was like a love-hate relationship. She was so good at it, and she loved being on the ice. Watching her was like an artist at work… but this past year was almost excruciating for her… because, while my hockey career was far from over- I could keep trying until I was almost thirty, maybe forty if I was lucky- her career was pretty much over after this year.

“What am I even doing this for?” She asked then. “I’ve been doing this my whole life and why? I have nothing to show for all my work. And now I’m just supposed to be done after this year? And do what? Start working in a new direction? It’s a failed career, Greyson. I’m a failure and I’m 17,” She let out an exasperated sigh.

I wanted to tread carefully here and not make her more upset.

“Babe. One- you’re not a failure. By any means. Two- That’s the problem- it was not work for you before. Now it is,” I told her. Hockey wasn’t ever considered work in my mind. “I’m here for you babe. But you’ve got to stop freaking out and go back to having fun on the ice. So what if this is your last year? Enjoy it. Enjoy being great out there and landing everything.”

She stared blankly at the wall in front of her. “I don’t even want to go back out there. But I have to,” she said.

“You don’t have to do anything. You could walk away right now. It wouldn’t matter at all,” I told her.

“My grandparents would hate you for saying that,” she retorted.

That was true. I reached for her hand to lace our fingers together with my free hand. Her grandparents would want success from her this year. They would consider her walking away as failing, and they would definitely blame me for being a bad influence. But whatever. I was looking out for her. Not her reputation or anything dumb they cared about.

“Yeah, well…I only care about what you think of me.”

I could tell she wanted to speak more but was hesitating.

“What?” I asked her.

“If I’m not a figure skater- If I never skate again- will you still like me?” Her voice cracked at the end and she wouldn’t look at me. I stopped rubbing her back then.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked her. It almost made me mad that she even asked that. It meant I hadn’t been making her feel secure enough in our relationship.

I reached for her face and turned it to mine so that she’d look at me.

“You’ve gotta promise me you’ll stop freaking out. Because nothing can happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. You are beautiful and perfect and mine. I don’t care if you went and joined the circus. But don’t do that because I want you close by,” I said while tugging her closer to me.

She blew out a sigh of relief and rubbed her eyes. Looking at her mascara-stained hands she laughed.

“Your identity just gets wrapped into it. Like I am a figure skater. It’s what makes me special. If I quit… I’m a quitter,” she sighed. “I must look horrendous.”

“You’re beautiful, inside and out.” I picked her up and pulled her into my lap. “And a sport does not define that, Jules, it doesn’t define who you are.” I understood what she was explaining. It was something a lot of athletes struggled with… like what do you do and who are you when you’re done? I promised myself right then to be there for her and not let her lose herself.

I smoothed a thumb over her cheek, “And that’s definitely not what makes you special.”

She swallowed hard and I felt her relax into me.

“We are in the bathroom, ya know,” she said quietly. She laid her head against my shoulder, and I kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t care.”

“I’m getting makeup on your favorite workout shirt,” she said.

“Don’t fucking care.”

“Your friends are going to make fun of you,” she sniffed.

“Let em. They’re just jealous I’m wifed up,” I said with a wry chuckle. I ran my hair through her ponytail like I’d done hundreds of times and it dawned on me. “Hey, Jules.”

“Huh?”

“I love you.”

I felt her tense in my arms and look up at me. She gently put her hand against my face, “I love you too, Greyson. So much.”

A laugh bubbled up in my chest then, and her light giggle joined mine despite her glassy eyes. It was the first time we’d said it to each other. On the bathroom floor in the locker room. It didn’t matter where we were, only that we were together.