Breaking Ice

Cada movimiento que hacemos para llegar a nuestros asientos es seguido por un golpe de codo, un brazo perdido arrojado a nuestra cara o una serie de gruñidos y empujones enojados.La guinda del pastel bastante agresivo son los sonidos de desaprobación que provienen de mi mejor amiga, Layne, mientras lucha por sentarse en su asiento de plástico.Después de unos segundos más de arrastrar los pies, gemir y maldiciones amortiguadas, finalmente exhala derrotada y deja de retorcerse como un pez fuera del agua.Miro desde la pelirroja molesta hasta mi otra mejor amiga, el contraste de la incomodidad total de Layne y la serena familiaridad de Salma casi me hace estallar en carcajadas.Layne es realmente nuestra adorable virgen de hockey.Salma, sin embargo, ha pasado una cantidad increíble de tiempo aplastada en la pista de hielo de nuestra universidad, observando y animando mientras su novio se registra en las tablas una y otra vez.Supongo que podría decir lo mismo de mí, pero en lugar de novio, veo cómo mi hermano gemelo se destroza.Eso es definitivamente más entretenido.Los siguientes minutos están llenos de Sal y yo mirando a nuestra amiga gruñona, esperando pacientemente a que ella comience a gemir. Eso es hasta que finalmente hace lo predecible y abre la boca para comenzar a quejarse.—¿Alguien puede decirme por qué demonios estamos aquí? Layne comienza, frotándose la nariz y bajándose el gorro con frustración.Sal y yo nos miramos el uno al otro, al hielo, y luego a nuestro amigo que parece un niño.Salma suelta una risita entrecortada, una indicación de que aceptará esta. "Bueno, personalmente, estoy aquí porque mi novio está a punto de salir patinando de ese túnel justo allí". Señala el túnel donde los jugadores del lado contrario se abren camino hacia el hielo.Layne hace un puchero derrotado mientras Sal continúa: "Willow está aquí porque su hermano lleva una camiseta de Wolverine que dice 'Kennedy'".Ah, sí, mi obligación moral de animar, apoyar y reírme de mi hermano idiota, en nombre de nuestro papá, es la razón por la que uno de estos asientos siempre va acompañado de mi culo.La mirada amarga en la cara del pelirrojo me hace decir: "Y tú, nuestro querido amigo, estás aquí porque eres incapaz de quedarte solo en el apartamento durante más de veinte minutos..."Salma se ríe de mi comentario, sobre todo porque es cien por ciento cierto.Layne, bendito sea su corazón, no puede ser dejada sola por un largo período de tiempo.Esto se debe a dos razones principales: 1) ella es como una niña traviesa, encontrará cualquier cosa con la que meterse y posiblemente romperse, 2) la última vez que tanto Sal como yo salimos por el día, logró casi quemar todo nuestro edificio, enojar gravemente a nuestra vecina de al lado, la Sra. Beaumont y, de alguna manera, manchar el techo con jarabe de chocolate tanto en el baño como en la cocina.No me preguntes cómo, sigue siendo un misterio."Espero que te ahogues". Nuestro niño pequeño resopla, nos apaga a los dos y dirige su atención a la pantalla que muestra las estadísticas de cada jugador.En realidad, todavía no había mirado la pantalla grande, lo cual está fuera de lugar para mi yo desesperado por ver a los jugadores de hockey calientes.Mientras recorro la pista con los ojos, deteniéndome en la sección de lados opuestos, finalmente tengo la oportunidad de mirar la pantalla con los ojos.Acababa de perderme las estadísticas de los otros equipos, lo que no es demasiado decepcionante teniendo en cuenta que no hace mucha diferencia para mí, así que me pongo cómodo, acurrucado entre Layne y Sal, y espero a que aparezca nuestro querido equipo.Up first is Greyson Hastings, our infamous goalie and typical party boy. The crowd erupts in cheers as he skates onto the ice all padded and kitted up.To an outsider, you'd probably assume Greyson is some brain-dead asshole who thinks they're God's gift to earth (and women). Thankfully, I know Grey on a somewhat real level and he's a sweetheart. A real weirdo, but he's a goalie- they're always a little... off?Up next are the defence players. A few sophomores and one freshman skate on and head to the bench before our starters make an appearance.Really, if we're being completely honest with ourselves, these two starting defencemen are the only reason Sal and I spend so much time in this freezing as fuck arena.Reese is up first, his stats getting displayed as he glides onto the ice.Salma screams widely for her boyfriend, jumping up and down- clapping and whooping as he takes his place on the blue line.Ah, young love.Sal's final cheer goes a tad overboard, however, as she flings her arms out and knocks me roughly into Layne's side. We both chorus an 'Owww' as she calms herself down and shoots us an apologetic smile."Jesus, remind me to never get on Sal's bad side. That woman packs a mean punch." Layne whispers jokingly to me, rubbing at her side where I had been launched.Next up on the screen is Everett, number 86- the exact same number etched on the back of the jersey I'm sporting.I clap a little louder than usual for my twin, a proud smile taking over my features as he manages to make his way to the blue line without eating shit.Is it bad I kinda wish that he had slipped up?Only a little slip! Just a big enough mess for me to take a picture, send it to our family group chat and to make a meme out of...That's just what sisters do!As if he sensed my slightly evil thoughts, Ev looks towards the stands, his eyes sweeping over the mass of people until he finds us- then, as our eyes lock, he pokes his tongue out at me and flashes me his non-gloved middle finger.Before I have chance to retaliate, the crowd goes wild again and he diverts his attention to the tunnel, where more of his teammates are spilling out.It's offence now- the first player to skate out being Holden Zhao, left winger. For a junior, Holden's already managed to collect quite a fan base- maybe it's his rugged good looks or it could be purely skill, i'm not too sure but- it's very clear to me that he's going to make an incredible senior starter. In my opinion, Holden holds definite captain potential.I wouldn't be be shocked if he got passed the torch after the current captain makes it to the majors."Awe, he's a cutie." Layne comments, her hand over her heart as Holden skates to the blue line.Salma giggles at her, clearly knowing something that our hockey virgin of a friend doesn't."Holden? He may look adorable, but that kid is a fighter. He's constantly getting put in the penalty box for causing trouble on the ice. Plus- he'll charm the panties right off ya."Both of those things were true. Holden Zhao likes to get himself in trouble. I'm not too sure why, maybe that's just his role, or maybe he enjoys shoving massive hockey players into the boards.I know I like watching two grown men fight over a puck- it's half the fun of the game!And as far as the 'charming your panties off' thing goes...I mean, I've never gone there but, friends of mine have been romanced by the flirty junior on a few occasions. I hear he lives up to his reputation...Next up on the big screen is our celebrated captain.Tate Wilder- number 27. Center forward, and 6 foot 4 inches of pure muscle. A known heart-throb and rumored NHL first pick draft. I say rumored loosely, every man and their dog knows that Tate is heading to the big leagues after this year. The only question is: which team?The crowd gets even louder for our captain; and he, of course, soaks up all the attention with a bright smile as he glides skillfully to the starting line.I had met most of the guys on the team, and considering Everett lived with them, I knew some of the seniors pretty damn well.All except Tate.I think we've spoken all but two sentences to each other in the past three years of Ev living in the same house as him.It was last school year; at an end of season party the boys were hosting. I was just chilling in the kitchen, probably mixing myself a very questionable drink, when he appeared next to me and opened with a simple: "Tate Wilder, captain." Followed by a charming grin and a hand held out for me to shake.I responded with an equally simple statement: "Willow Kennedy, Everett's sister." And shook his large hand with a polite smile.He started to open his mouth to respond when a then freshman on the team called him over to the keg stand. I took that as my queue to slip away before he got to finish his sentence and we haven't spoken since.Bringing me back to the present, Salma sighs dreamily- the laugh hiding behind the sound an indication that she's not serious about what she's about to say."I'll tell you what," She starts, fanning herself with her hand dramatically. "If I wasn't in a loving relationship, I would totally take a slice of that cake."Layne bursts out laughing as she responds, "He's got a little too much penis for me, but I can definitely appreciate the view."Friendship. It's a truly beautiful thing."Ooo, who's that guy?" The ginge asks a few seconds later, pure curiosity slapped across her face as Logan's stats are displayed.Sal is too busy taking pictures of the starting lineup to answer, so I tackle yet another one of our child's questions."That is Logan Romano, he plays right wing. He's a senior, like most of the guys, but his girlfriend is a junior."I mention Logan's girlfriend, Ashton, being a junior because our little ginger friend is also a junior. Layne has trouble putting names and faces together, she also is too lazy to remember people she has no connection to, so my hope is that linking the two together will strike a brain cell."Her name is Ashton, Ashton Hill I think? She might be in your human anatomy class."I had met Ash at a party last year, she was super sweet and a proper looker. Logan truly has won the girlfriend lottery. Adorable, beautiful and hilarious- I call that the jackpot.Layne scrunches up her face in concentration before the needle drops. "Oh my God! Ash? Yeah, I know her! She's a journalism major, adorable button nose and the cutest Canadian accent? Love, love, love her!"There we go. Now she'll remember at least three of the guys on the team. Reese; Sal's lover boy, Everett; my genetically similar companion and Logan; cute Canadian's boyfriend.I'd say that this trip to the rink was a success already, I've somehow managed to get Layne to remember another human being and my ass hasn't gone blue yet, give me some time on that one and ask me later though. I can guarantee my answer will be very different.Another bench warmer gets seated and the national anthem starts to play. The crowd seems to muffle the music- but you can see that the starters are ultra-focused and ready to go.Considering this is a pre-season friendly, I don't understand why all the guys look ready to kill.For example; Ev's usually a pretty cheerful looking guy, but right now my brother is staring a huge hole through the opposing right winger's skull.I know that look; hell, I own that look. Although I usually reserve that glare for slow walkers, people who are rude to coffee shop workers and ex boyfriends.Next up is the face off, our side send off Holden- who manages to take possession of the puck and play is underway, not before all the guys go to tap Greyson's goalie pads of course.They may look all big and tough, but hockey players are nothing if not superstitious.I should know- I grew up in a house of touching wood, finger crossings and throwing salt over your left shoulder.As the game begins, Sal starts to repeatedly poke my arm until I give her attention. I guess both of my roommates are a little on the clingy side..."Do you think I should post this?" She shows me her phone, a cutesy picture of us three before we left the apartment today displayed on her screen, ready to post.The caption reads "@layne.weaver22 ,get ready bitch".In a typical Sal fashion, her bright smile and gorgeous complexion steal the show and immediately draws you to look at her instead of me or Layne. Don't get me wrong, with her curly ginger hair and freckled face Layney-loo is an eye catcher, but in this photo she's looking away from the camera and holding up our newest addition- a 2-month-old calico kitten we named Hermione.Unfortunately for me, Salma also decided to take this photo as I was applying my mascara, so my mouth is formed in that typical doing-makeup-mouth-wide-open look with pure concentration swiped all over my features.I don't really mind that it's not the most flattering picture ever taken of me, it's funny and truly represents our little family.Sal with her unfairly perfect good looks, Layne showing her obsession with our new baby and me, running late- per usual- as my two best friends are fully ready for the game.Sal shows Layne the picture, waiting for both our go aheads to post, as the goal buzzer rings and the crowd goes crazy."Well, that was fast..." Layne comments, clearly surprised at how fast paced hockey is.I snap my gaze away from Sal's phone to check out who scored. By the looks of the huddle surrounding Tate Wilder and Logan Romano.I'm assuming one scored and the other assisted- not that it matters to me, all I care about is that the score is now 1-0 Wolverines!I watch with an emotion similar to pride as Ev jumps on the back of one of the other guys, the sound of gloves tapping on helmets and the sight of sticks raised high in the air reminding me why I still come to all his home games.Both Everett and I played when we were young, our Dad coached the junior league teams and the school teams, so I've been surrounded by hockey my whole life- that's what growing up in Minnesota is like.Ev was the only one who carried on throughout high school though- I was always more into the creative side of life.My Dad didn't care what we did though, he was happy as long as we were having fun and staying safe. And Everett had fun stealing the puck and shoving big dudes into the boards, he still does at the wise old age of 21.With our Dad stuck in our small town of St. Cloud (still coaching minor league teams on weekends) I took on the role of my brother's personal cheerleader. I did it all throughout high school, so really supporting him isn't a new thing to me. The only difference is that now it means something; now it's leading somewhere.And now, the guys on his team aren't complete assholes. A true win in my book.Call me stereotypical, but I truly believe it's rare to find a guy, who plays on a sport team, that's doesn't think they're some sort of God.Especially Football guys- they might be the worst of the worst."Is it embarrassing that we missed that goal because we were busy inspecting a potential Instagram post?" Sal chuckles, tapping on her phone to (I assume) post the picture she just showed us.Layne shrugs and stuffs another hand full of popcorn in her mouth- the same popcorn that I bought for her as we were going in to lessen the complaints.She really is like a toddler."Maybe slightly... just, don't mention it to Reese when he gets out the locker room?" I suggest, pulling my coat tighter around my body to trap some more heat.Ice rinks are fucking cold okay?Sal nods and returns to inspecting her boyfriend as he moves around the ice. I don't think she has a clue what's going on, all she cares about is watching her man as he plays the sport he loves. It's cute really.As the opposing team get closer to our defending zone the crowd gets tense- the air so stiff you could have mistaken it for meeting your partners parents for the first time- just straight up uncomfortable.Sal holds her breath and little miss 'I don't give a shit about hockey' audibly gasps and grasps my arm as the other teams left winger heads straight in Reese's direction. The atmosphere is full of terror, again not making much sense to me because this match was labelled as a pre-season friendly.Let me tell you something though, these boys do not do friendly. They play every game like its the season final and their fighting for the Stanley cup. They do not mess around and they play to win.I guess that's why the people in this arena take it so seriously.Another gasp rings in my ear, this time coming from Salma, as her boyfriend checks Mr left wing from the side, causing him to fall and lose the puck. The ref immediately sounds the whistle and the time is stopped.Left wing dude picks himself up quickly, clearly no harm done as his captain comes over to check up on him. Meanwhile, Reese is probably arguing with the ref, side-by-side with Tate and Ev, as they clearly dispute over how long he should spend in the box.The ref calls a two-minute penalty for checking from behind, Reese seems to respect the decision and skates his way over to the penalty box.Sal, however, disagrees completely with the call..."BOO! YOU WHORE!" She yells, her hands cupping her mouth as she quotes her all-time favorite movie.The rest of the crowd groans in frustration, watching as the coach swaps on Dean Colbie to replace Reese for the rest of this period. But, not one fan shouts abuse or disagrees with the ref's decision- probably because it was a completely justified call.Layne taps me on the shoulder, leaning in closer to whisper in my ear as Sal continues cussing the ref out under her breath. "Why is Sal so pissed? Was that not a fair penalty?"I laugh lightly, looking at the angry girlfriend of the player who just got benched, rip apart the poor bastard who made the call."Nope, it was a totally illegal hit. Salma doesn't really know how the game works, she just comes to support the wifey."And I respect her for that. Spending hours upon hours of her time at a freezing cold, slightly ran down, ice rink watching a bunch of sweaty guys beat each other up, over a puck, isn't what most girls would choose to do in their free time. I sure as hell wouldn't want to be here if I had zero interest in the game, and Sal really couldn't care less about the rules or about what justifies a penalty.She's only bothered about Reese having fun, playing safe and kissing the shit out of him after the game.I watch the ice closely again as the first period comes to a close, just waiting for the players to start making their way back through the tunnel for their fifteen-minute break.My eyes are focused on Everett as he removes his helmet and shakes out his sweaty hair; Holden shielding his eyes from the spray of water coming from my filthy twin brother.All the guys leave the ice together, seemingly at ease judging from all the laughing faces and boy-ish shoves as they disappear from view."Well," Layne starts, my first instinct is to prepare my eye roll for the complaint coming our way, but the moody ginger surprises me with a relatively positive comment."I thought this was going to suck a lot more then it actually does.." The last part is muffled slightly by her pulled up hoodie, almost as if she's ashamed to admit she's having fun.Sal claps in victory at little Layney's confession- it may not seem like a lot from a regular person but, coming from her rather negative mouth, it's like winning a gold medal.Layne loves to hate stuff. She's a creature of habit, kind of like a crab. You can't get her out of her shell, so you bring the shell along with you.Layne's shell is Salma and I (well now that shell includes our princess angel baby, Hermione).She hates trying new things- and I know for a goddamn fact that if Sal and I hadn't of found our little ginger friend when we were crashing that freshman party (don't judge, we get bored easily) Layney-loo would live in the library and never make any friends.Thankfully, we were crashing that freshman party, and rescued our now adoptive child from crawling further into that shell.At this point we consider ourselves full time mothers; both Layne and Hermione being our babies."I told you so!" Salma screams, drawing the eyes of at least twenty people wondering who the hell let her out of the asylum. "You owe me ten bucks!" Sal points at me, a stupid smirk- that only winner's get to wear- taking over her full lips.I may have just said that we're like Layne's parent's, but that doesn't mean we can't make a little cash on the side by betting on her... we are broke college students after all!Just before we left the apartment today, after my mascara had been applied and our extra layers for warmth were on, Sal and I were watching our two daughters obsess over each other.Salma then whispered to me: "I'm betting you now, after this game she's going to be hooked. She'll love it."The pure confidence radiating from her made me snap her hand off at a bit of friendly competition.What can I say? Kennedy's are competitive people. That's why monopoly is banned in our family home and that's why Everett has a jagged scar right above his left eyebrow... I can be a bit of a sore loser at the best of times.So, I placed ten bucks on Layne hating this experience and bursting into tears by the start of the second period.And now I'm out of the money I had planned to use to supply my coffee needs for the first day of classes on Wednesday.Fan-fucking-tastic."You bitches!" Layne scolds, her usually sweet voice taking an edge as she turns away from me in her seat- effectively giving me the cold shoulder.I scowl at a still smug Sal as I hand over the cash, mouthing the words 'fuck you' as she kisses the bank note and tucks it into her bra.My attention then goes to a sulking ginger, an adorable pout covering her lips and a crease in between her slightly messy eyebrows give me a clear indication that she's not actually upset.Believe me, you'd be well aware if you had an angry Layne Weaver on your hands. You can feel that shit even if you're on a different continent."Layney-loo?" I coo, knowing that I probably shouldn't have pulled out that nickname whilst in the process of getting forgiven.Layne scoffs loudly and turns further in her chair."Oh come on, I'll let you choose what takeout we get tomorrow if you forgive me?"She perks up immediately as Sal gasps in shock.Takeout-Tuesday has been our tradition since Salma and I had been placed together in the dorms. Every Tuesday night we order some takeout, binge whatever Netflix show we're currently hooked on and go to sleep with stuffed stomachs and the lingering smell of grease in our kitchen.I'm usually the one to pick where we order from; mostly because I don't trust Salma's taste in restaurants and Layne isn't really a foodie.I, however, have pretty impeccable taste acquired from a vast palette and i'm food-obsessed.So, choosing the takeout for our Tuesday night dinner is an honour and a privilege.What makes it even more of an occasion is that it's the last Tuesday before class starts. That means a bottle- or two- of wine and beer chasers are usually involved.Layne sticks her tongue out at a now offended Salma and shakes my hand, a deal being struck.Almost as if they knew, the very second after I sold my soul to the devil music begins to play louder through the speakers and the boys start to skate their way onto the now fresh ice.The score at the end of the first period was 1-0 Wolverines. That goal happened pretty fast, so lord knows how quick paced this period is going to be after the boys just got screamed at by their coach- you can just tell by their faces that Coach Madison Johnson had given them an earful for whatever they fucked up during period one.One tell tale sign being Ev's noticeably paler complexion that I can see behind his helmet."Do you think they're going to win?" Sal asks as the opposing team wins the face off.I assess the ice quickly, I may not know a whole lot about hockey, but I know enough to be able to tell her that we're clearly the stronger team.Looking back at Sal quickly, I keep my answer simple. "There's no way those boys won't be heading to the bar after this to celebrate."She beams at my answer and goes back to eye-fucking Reese as he moves around the ice.By the end of the third period, my theory is proven correct as the red light goes off- our side erupts into cheers- and the timer shows only three seconds left on the clock.The game ends 3-0 Wolverines.Pre-season friendly my ass.