Ice Cold

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥

Oh my God. I hate this so much. My parents and I are stood outside of the Beckett household, having arrived moments before. I shuffle my feet awkwardly, holding a pot covered in tin foil to keep it warm- my mom can never go a visit to the Beckett's without bringing some kind of baked good. My dad reaches to press the doorbell, and a beat later the door swings open.

"My God, you must be freezing! Come in, come in!"

I swear Blake has to be adopted from some kind of insane asylum, because his mother is his polar opposite. She stands in a comfy-looking sweater and jeans, her light hair pulled back into a ponytail. She speaks softly, laughing at something my dad says as she ushers us into the house. I offer her a smile as I pass her, holding the pot out for her to take.

"Hi, Mrs Beckett."

"April, honey, we've talked about this! Call me Martha."

"I'll try."

I respond as she takes the pot from me, knowing I'll still call her Mrs Beckett- that's what she's been since I was a little girl, it would be too weird to change it all now.

"Hey, Apes. How is training?"

Mr Beckett has risen from where he was sitting to greet my mom and my dad, his best friend, before turning and speaking to me. Mr Beckett coached me for a long while when I was younger, alongside his son. However, when it became clear Blake and I couldn't get along, we figured it wasn't the best of ideas, and I started with my new coach, Carla. Don't get me wrong, Carla is great, but Mr Beckett seems to understand me so much more. I smile, walking with the rest of my family in the direction of the dining room.

"It's great, thanks."

"You got that double lutz nailed down yet?"

I open my mouth to respond, but become distracted as we pass by the living area. Blake is laying across the length of the couch, wearing sweats, phone in hand. One arm is propped behind his head, and his gaze remains focused upon his screen. Even though he doesn't look up, I know he knows I'm there- there was no way he didn't hear us come in. It's typical of him to ignore my presence when I'm over, but it still pisses me off- I think it may be why he does it.

"April? The lutz?"

"Huh?"

I turn my head to see Mr Beckett stood, waiting patiently for my response.

"Oh! Yes, it's good..really good. I'm already working on a triple."

"Fantastic! See, it would be great if Blake was putting that much effort into his practices-"

"I am."

I physically jump at the sound of Blake's deepened voice, and tilt my head to see he's risen from the couch, and now stands directly behind me. He looks annoyed, perhaps by his dad's comparison of us. Pride swells within me, and I smirk.

"Or maybe you're not."

"Whatever."

His response is curt, and he slips past me, his arm barely brushing mine. I still. Even after knowing him for so long, physical touch of any kind between us is entirely foreign. I hate it, because it feels as though his evil bacteria is spreading to me. I mimic him beneath my breath, before moving to follow him and his dad into the dining room, where my mom and Mrs Beckett are already seated, dishing up food. As I sit down in my usual seat at the end of the table opposite Blake, I pray silently to the Gods above that this will be over quickly. Then, I reach to dish myself up some pasta, listening to the conversation floating between the adults. Hungry, I look downwards, expecting cutlery to be beside my plate. I blink.

"Erm- I've got no cutlery."

The adults pause their conversation, and Mrs Beckett's expression becomes stern. She looks to her son, her tone warning.

"Blake.."

"What? We didn't have enough."

Blake acts confused, though he can't resist smiling proudly, using fork to pop a piece of pasta in his mouth. He looks at me, and I want to slap that stupid smile from his face.

"It's fine, I'll get more."

I speak, moving to stand. However, Mrs Beckett raising her hand, signalling for me to stay where I am. I obey, sinking back into my seat.

"It's alright- Blake will fetch more from the basement, won't you?"

Mrs Beckett tilts her head to look back towards her son, and his smile drops. Now, it's my turn to smile. My parents remain silent, though look amused- they've always liked watching Blake and I talk, even if it's an argument. They have it stuck in their heads that we should be the best of friends, but I know it's not going to happen. Blake groans and rises from his seat, shooting me a glare before disappearing from the room. Unsure of what to do until I can eat, I reach for my glass and take an award sip. My mom attempts conversation.

"Anyway! Big game on Saturday..then we tell them about-"

"Lauren!"

My dad suddenly interrupts her, giving me a rather pointed stare. I raise a brow, wondering what my mom could've meant. 'Them'? Myself and somebody else? I open my mouth to question it, but Blake makes his timely entrance back into the room, reluctantly reaching to place a knife and fork in front of me. I offer him a sarcastic smile and pick up the cutlery, undeniably pleased to start my dinner. I haven't eaten since lunch, and practice was a bitch- I'm starving.

An hour or so goes by without much occurring. The adults chat amongst themselves, and Blake and I occasionally chip in, laughing along with jokes made. However, neither of us dare acknowledge the other. Instead, we avoid eye contact and change the subject when we're teased for our 'teasing'. It isn't teasing, it's hatred. I hate him, he hates me- which is evident when I reach for another helping, accidentally knocking over my glass of water. Blake snorts, and looks at something beneath the table. My phone dings, and I frown, apologetically drying up the water before reaching for the phone. It's a text from Blake.

Fucker: ur a klutz. it's not cute.

I scowl and turn my phone off, making it obvious I don't intend on responding. Instead, I lean back in my chair and fold my arms, wondering when this hell is going to be over. I have an assignment due tomorrow which isn't finished, and it's starting to get late.

"Gosh, would you look at the time!"

My mom speaks, and I swear she can read my mind. Beats later, the adults begin sharing their goodbyes, and Mr and Mrs Beckett lean to stack up everyone's plates. Blake gets up, saying goodbye to my parents. Unsurprisingly, he ignores me as he makes his leave of the room, but I don't miss him glancing over his shoulder at me before he disappears into the hallway.

"Thank you so much for having us."

I speak towards Mr Beckett, who smiles and nods as my dad moves to grasp my arm, ushering me gently out of the room and towards the door. Moments later, we're outside, and I have a moment to breathe. I survived another dinner, thank God. As we climb into the car, I glance at my mom.

"Mom, what did you mean to say earlier? About after the game?"

"..Nothing, sweetheart."

My mother responds, looking at me in the mirror above her head. She smiles. Shit. What has she gotten me into?