Ice Cold

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥

Apparently, I must be some huge fucking man repellent, because not only have I been blatantly ignored by Blake, but also by the rest of the male species.

"Do I have a sign on my back that says 'I have herpes!' or something?"

I question toward Lou. We're walking down the hallway, heading to our first class of the day. Perhaps it's the way I've been dressing this week. I wanted to make a point that, while I may have agreed to a little secret sex deal thing with Blake, I wasn't interested enough to try to look good for him. So, every day, I threw on the classic sweatpants-hoodie-no makeup combo. Though, it isn't that different to what I usually do. Besides, this look is more basic nowadays than it is 'dressing down', so I blend in nicely. Lou, on the other hand, gives no fucks. She's wearing a neon tank top so low-cut I'm surprised she hasn't been hauled straight to the Principal's office. Then again, it is only first period.

"Do you have herpes?"

"No. I haven't even had sex in weeks."

It feels like a crime to be lying to Lou, but myself and Blake agreed this would be kept between us. It was for the best, considering it probably wouldn't last long anyways. Hell, with the way he's been acting, it's likely already over. He hasn't even looked in my direction, and it's infuriating. Approaching our lockers, I glance to the side, catching a glimpse of the man himself, strolling along the hallway with the rest of his bro-dude-boy gang. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of catching me looking at him, I turn my attention back to my locker and attempt to steer the conversation away from the topic of my sex life.

"Anyway, you're coming to that practice tonight, right?"

With another competition just a few short weeks away, Carla has myself and the rest of the skaters signing up to all of the extra ice time we can get. I can't complain, because it's just about the most distracting thing I've got from this whole 'I had sex with Blake Beckett, agreed to become fuck buddies and now he's pretending I don't exist' thing. So far, with my overthinking, I'm not doing a good job of keeping it casual.

"Obviously. If I'm gonna beat you to the triple, I'm gonna have to be on my game!"

Lou nudges me as she shoves her books rather unceremoniously into her locker, and I snort, returning the gesture.

"In your dreams."

"It quite literally is."

"I think it's in every skater's dreams."

I respond with a smile, thinking back on all the times little April spent hours hunched over her laptop, feverishly watching YouTube fancam videos of the great skaters, wishing she could pull off a triple. Lou and I used to watch those videos together. Now, we were both so close. Ideally, I'd have it secured by the next comp, though realistically it could happen any time between next month or next year. I have the skill, the strength and the coaching to pull it off, but I need my head screwed just right to land it. The courage to attempt jumps like a triple don't just happen overnight- it takes years. As if any hockey player has to work that hard for one maneouver. Lucky sons of bitches.

"What've you got first period?"

Lou asks, looping her arm through mine as we move to continue our walk down the hallway.

"History."

I grimace. History isn't even too bad. The teacher is pretty funny.. it's just the company I can't stand.

"Good luck, kid. You're on your own!"

Lou's arm slips from mine, and I blink, watching as she suddenly makes a break for it down the corridor. For a moment, I'm dumfounded, then spot a certain bitchy librarian stalking along just ahead of me. I grin, asjusting my grip on my bag. Of course, Lou's trying to avoid a dress code. Walking once more, I make a little bet to myself- Lou's caught and forced to wear something from lost and found by lunch at the latest.

"Why are you smiling to yourself, April?"

An arm flops over my shoulder, and I glance upwards to see Tyler, a teasing expression across his face.

"Hey, Tyler. I just.. thought of a really funny joke."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you're kinda obliged to tell it to me now."

He winks. I roll my eyes, though respond anyway. We have the same class together, so there's really no escaping him.

"Erm- okay. What do you call an argument between a wigwam and a teepee?"

He's silent.

"In-tents."

"... That was so shit."

"You asked for it."

He snickers, nodding his head in defeat.

"That I did, April Fools, that I did. Ladies first."

He drops his arm from my shoulder to step forward, pushing open the door for me to walk through. Obliging, I thank him and enter the classroom. He's swift to bound around me and skip to the back of the room, plopping down beside a certain brunette engrossed in his phone. Giving Blake the same treatment he giving me, I take a free seat at the front reaching to pull my textbook from my bag. Right on cue, our teacher, Mr Samson, strolls in.

"Alright, class. Let's jump straight where we left off. Turn to page.. where were we?"

Someone, Blake or one of his buddies, shouts 'Sixty-Nine!', and the class groans collectively. Mr Samson cringes.

"Ah.. perhaps I better call on someone. Oh! Blake, do you know?"

I toss a glance over my shoulder to see that Blake has raised a nonchalant hand. He shakes his head, then speaks.

"Afraid not. Actually, I'd like to use the bathroom."

"Of course you would. Fine, but make it quick."

Mr Samson sighs and waves his hand toward the door. Exhaling, Blake rises from his chair and walks down the aisle between the desks, passing mine as he goes. It's not until he's left the classroom when I realise that he's discreetly placed something down onto my desk. I blink.

The penny. Fucking asshole.

"Mr Samson?"

"Yes, Miss Jones?"

"I'd like to use the bathroom too, please."