Page 12 of Fractured Ice

"About that…" I say.

Knox looks at me.

"There's a journalism program. Sports Media Practicum. They pair students with athletes for the whole semester, like a whole project, following you around, interviews, all of it." I keep my eyes on the middle distance somewhere to Knox's left. "A list of student names went around a couple weeks ago. They were asking athletes to volunteer."

Knox is very still.

"Sienna's name was on the list," I say.

"And?"

"I signed up for the program. And I may have specifically requested her as my journalist."

Knox stares at me for a long moment. Then he grabs my shoulder with both hands and shakes me once, hard, the way he does when something has genuinely impressed him. "That's the smartest thing you've done in years."

"I thought it might be too much."

"It's perfect. Those journalism students are with you all semester. Almost every practice, every game, interviews, all of it. She literally has to spend time with you whether she wants to or not." He's grinning now, the full-wattage version. "And she's a professional, so she can't even be weird about it. She has to show up."

"That's what I was thinking."

"You actually thought something through for once." He claps me on the back. "I'm proud of you."

"Don't make it weird."

"I'm genuinely proud. This is growth." He stands up, grabbing his bag. "Okay. Here's what you do. You show up, you be yourself, you don't try to be impressive and you don't say anything stupid. You let her do her job and she'll figure out that you're not a disaster."

"I'm not a disaster."

"You're a little bit of a disaster around her specifically. But you're a likable disaster, which is what matters." He adjusts the bag on his shoulder. "You've got this."

I actually feel better. That's the thing about Knox. He gives you a hard time and then somehow by the end of it you feel better than when you started, which is probably why he's been my closest friend since freshman year, despite the fact that he's genuinely relentless.

We grab the rest of our gear and head out through the corridor toward the main entrance of the hockey building. My legs are still tired from practice and my pride's a little beat up, but my head's in a better place than it's been all day. Sienna's going to spend an entire semester working with me. That's a lot of time. Enough time for her to actually see me instead of the version of me that apparently turns catastrophic in her presence.

I can do this.

I push through the door into the cold January air and look up and hear my name. Focusing on the person, my brain does the thing it always does when I see her.

It goes completely blank.

Sienna's standing near the entrance with her bag over one shoulder, her coat buttoned up, and her pale blond hair catching what's left of the afternoon light. She looks annoyed, which on her is kind of hot, and she's already moving toward me with the kind of purpose that suggests she's been waiting and isn't thrilled about it.

Everything Knox just said. All of it. Gone.

Knox makes a sound beside me that might be an encouraging noise or might be him trying not to laugh. I hear him murmur something like you've got it before his footsteps are moving away in the other direction, just a little bit, enough to give us privacy, and I'm standing there alone as Sienna stops in front of me.

"Hi," I say. Extremely clever.

"Professor Bennett paired us," she says. "For Sports Media Practicum. I'm your assigned journalist for the semester."

"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Yeah, I saw that. That's great."

"It's a massive assignment, worth a good portion of my grade," she says, which is her way of making sure I understand the frame. "I'll need access to practices, games, and interviews on a schedule that works around both our commitments."

"Absolutely. Whatever you need."

She nods, pulling out her phone to check something. I take one second to just try to collect myself because she's standing three feet away and she smells like something warm, and I'm supposed to be a functional adult male right now.