Lose to Win

By Ceci Li

“It’s not too late to back out.” Sam looks up from tightening his hockey skates, smirking.

“You wish.”

A bet is a bet. This is our ice time. Just because his hockey team is on its way to winning the state championship doesn’t mean my figure skating club has to compromise in this accidental double-booking. Even if we only have three skaters.

“One shot out of five,” I say, my chin lifted high. “And your team leaves.”

He snickers, then shoves his helmet over his loose curls. Good, now I can focus better with that distracting face covered by the wire cage.

Eliza tugs at my sleeve. “Gwen, are you sure about this?”

“Relax.” I pat my best friend’s shoulder. “I’ve seen my dad play. I’ll manage.”

I’m no stranger to the sport. My dad is the assistant coach. And so what if Sam shot up over six feet and gained a jawline since the freshman year of college? Tall people are more prone to heart disease. He’s a senior now. His old age will catch up to him.

I puff up my chest and glide over to the center, my hands on my hips.

Because Gwenevere Hong never loses.

Sam grabs a bucket of pucks, tucks his hockey stick under his arm, and takes a goalie’s fat stick from his teammate. After three smooth strides, his skates scrape the ice as he stops in front of me, towering over me like a grizzly bear.

He hands me his stick. “Want me to go easy on ya?”

“Nope.” I scoff and snatch the cold handle from him. “I’ll win. Fair and square.”

He chuckles like he’s watching a growling puppy. “Classic Baby Vee.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” I say through clenched teeth. Warmth prickles my cheeks with his teasing tone. I might be a first-year, but I won’t allow his belittling to affect me. Not anymore. I reach into the bucket and drop a puck beside me. “Go guard your post.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, his tone laughing, then glides toward the goal before my urge to body-check him trumps my self-control.

I bend my knees and take my stance.

First attempt. The puck stays by my feet after I take a swing at it.

So it’s a little harder than I thought. That’s fine. I have four more chances.

This time, my blade hits the black rubber, but it barely moves five feet and stops.

“Boo,” some guy hoots from the side.

“Shut up!” Eliza’s voice echoes near me. “You got this, Gwen!”

I crouch a little more and concentrate. Third try, the puck makes it across the ice, but Sam blocks it with ease.

Fourth, I send the puck flying, and he catches it like a softball.

He snickers. “Last shot, Baby Vee.”

I tighten my grip and slow down my breathing.

I need a different strategy. I may suck at hockey, but I can skate. If I get closer to the goal, I’ll have a better chance at making the shot.

I lower myself and tighten my grip on the stick. With one deep inhale, I charge full speed ahead. My legs alternate to the best of my abilities. Five feet away, I slam the blade at the puck he blocked earlier, sending it toward the goal.

Crash.

My mind goes blank for a second, and my body bounces off the geared human Transformer of a man like a bird taking a suicide dive to a window. My tailbone smashes the ice, and my glasses go flying. Everything is a blur in front of me, and I can’t catch my breath from the pain as I lie flat on the freezing surface.

“Shit, you okay?” Sam’s voice sounds muffled in my head. Next thing I know, his palm is holding my cheek.

I don’t realize I’m crying until his thumb wipes off something wet from my eye.

“It…hurts.” I breathe in, trying to push myself up. I know I don’t handle pain well. And the way he’s sticking his face in my personal space only makes me want to sink my teeth into that sleek nose of his as my butt throbs with its own pulse.

He examines me like I’m a newly excavated dinosaur fossil. “Did you hit your head?”

“No. My butt hurts.”

“Y-your…butt?”

“I think my tailbone’s broken.” I bat his hands away and rub my rear with a grimace, then I glare up at him, sniffling. “Thanks a lot.”

He blinks, then a smile that still stirs up invisible bubbles in my chest takes over his face. Before I can speak, he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tightly. That’s when I realize—some feelings, you just can’t forget, no matter how hard you try.

“Yo,” one of his teammates yells from the sideline. “That puck didn’t cross the line!”

Sam and I pull apart and turn toward the goal.

Sure enough, it didn’t.

I lost.

But I don’t feel the loss.

Maybe it’s the warmth of Sam’s rough palm still holding mine. Maybe it’s his bright smile when he looks at me. Maybe it’s his dark eyes crinkled at the corners.

I blink away, hoping he can’t hear how loud my heart is thumping. “Fine. We’ll leave.” Then I try to let go of his calloused hand.

“No, wait,” he says, clutching onto me. “How about a compromise?”

I stare at him, dumbstruck. The proud team captain, Samuel Mercer, is willing to make a compromise.

“We don’t have to hog the rink the entire time. You’re a fast skater. Maybe your skater club can stay and show my guys a few tricks?” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Maybe we can…um, grab something to eat after? My treat, you know, for breaking your tailbone.”

“Like a date?” I blurt out, then regret my impulse immediately.

He clears his throat and blinks away like I’m a cashier asking him to round up his bill for donations. My entire high school life flashes before me as my stomach gurgles with angst. Then he meets my gaze. A pink hue sweeps across his freckled nose bridge, and I can see my own smile reflected in his dark irises.

“Yeah, Gwen. Like a date.”

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Ceci Li is an agented YA romance writer who loves to celebrate love, friendship, and family through her words.