Skate Through My Heart

Prologue

Two Years Prior - Freshman Year
Saturday, October 23rd
Jacin POV

What's the first rule of Fight Club? Easy: don't ever talk about Fight Club.

According to my best friend, Cole, what's the first rule about being his best friend?

Don't you ever talk to me about my sister, or even think about dating her. Actually, if you do think about it, I'll chop your nuts off.

That's exactly what he said to me back in middle school when everyone was long limbs, crooked knees, cracking voices, and growing... other things that come with hitting puberty.

Now, was it a good idea for me to approach Cole a week after 4th grade had ended while swimming at the lake with his family, and mention that his sister had turned smoking hot overnight? Probably not. It wasn't my finest moment, nor the best conversation starter.

But, in that moment, it was the truth.

As true as the sun is warm. Like how water is wet, and how the snow falls every winter in Minnesota, the state that we all call home.

Clarity Jansky never hit puberty, in the sense that she skipped the awkward phase and jumped right to being a bombshell.

Her legs weren't lanky and awkward. Instead, she walked like she was on a runway. Even her face has always been ready for the cover of a magazine, since she's never had a lick of acne.

The Italian genes run strong in that family, and Clarity has always boasted a strong jawline, prominent cheekbones, and dark eyes. Dark like chocolate. Dark like the quartz and opal rocks that I used to pan out of the river out west, when my dad brought me on work trips to those stupid tourist towns.

I gave Clarity those brown rocks when I was nine, because they reminded me of her eyes, even way back then.

She is my best friend's twin sister. She is graceful. Resilient. Peaceful.

She's... she's...

The front door of the house opens, bringing a chilly late-September breeze with it. There's so much heat radiating off all of the bodies in this room that the sudden cold makes the hair on my arms stand, and I turn to look at who is arriving late.

Fuck.

She is walking through the door, sporting her new boyfriend.

Reality comes crashing back down so suddenly that my shoulders physically droop. Or maybe it's the disappointment that is so heavy.

Either way, it takes a lot of effort to tear my eyes away from Clarity. It's nearly impossible when she's wearing jeans that show more skin through the holes rather than denim holding itself together, and a baggy tshirt that's tied haphazardly in a knot in the front. As she reaches back to close the door, the shirt flashes just the right amount of skin on her belly.

My skin prickles again, and it's not because of the cold this time.

"... and that's when I told coach to take the idea of making me a defenseman out of his head and stick it right back up his ass, because there's no way I'm living to see the light of day after that!" Willie crows, gaining laughter from our friends in response.