As it turned out, the Ice Girls had three jobs. The first was to dance, cheerleading style, on a carpet placed over the ice, pre-game. That was to get the crowd pumped up. The second was to dance in the stands where the stairs were, one girl in each section, between face-offs and during commercial breaks when music would blast over the speakers. That was to keep the crowded pumped up. Lastly, they had to put on skates and grab shovels, ready to clean off the excess snow and occasionally help facilitate in-between period activities.
Alot more work than Autumn was hoping for, but that wasn’t what intimidated her.
Due to the fact that she was small (her height wasn’t much over 5’2) and the amount of grace she held when she danced, Veronica had decided Autumn would be perfect as the team’s main flyer. A flyer, Autumn soon learned, would be the one thrown up into the air and then caught by four teammates. Being terrified of heights did not help with the fact that she’d be thrown the highest.
Thankfully, Veronica said, they’d be doing that next week.
As far as skating went, every girl seemed to be trained well on the ice. Nathalie teased her friend and kept spraying her with snow. Autumn loved skating around, making circles and pretending not to puck handle with the shovel. Part of her missed playing hockey, as she had in highschool.
After practice, she and Nathalie returned home. Nathalie was hyperactive and excited about her date, and she talked Autumn’s ear off all through dinner about it. Together both girls did the dishes, and as Nathalie chose to catch up on one of her sitcoms, Autumn retreated to her room to unpack the one box that was hers.
Some of her clothes were stored in the top, she already knew that. They were unpacked easily and placed in the dresser the previous owner had left behind. Now, as she peered into the bottom, there was a white and blue jersey, covered with stars, and on top of it lay a small bunched up photo. Autumn reached in and picked it up, her eyes closing as a memory washed over her.
“Who’s that?” Autumn pointed to the giant poster in the lobby.
He ignored her, “I’m thirsty, do you have any money for a coke?”
Autumn swallowed, “Yeah, here,” and reached into her wallet. He took off with the bill and left her standing there. This big poster of a young hockey player was weird. How many arenas in North America had stuff like this? None she’d visited.
The gift shop was nearby, so she wandered in. They were giving away smaller versions of the giant poster, so she took one. Looking at it, she concurred he was nice looking, and in the back of her mind, that she shouldn’t be looking at someone else. Her boyfriend would be jealous and upset.
“Dad says we can go to our seats, come on,” he grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hall. She wanted to stop and take pictures of the jerseys, but he seemed impatient, so she didn’t ask to.
Photos of that hockey player were everywhere. Autumn mentally took down his number (which was #3) and made a note to see who it was when the game started. They reached their seats and she took a photo of the two of them, glancing at it afterwards. He wore Team Sweden, she wore Team Canada (as he’d requested). It was nice when he actually smiled.
Then the opposing team arrived for warm-up and Autumn felt her stomach drop. People were looking at her from the time they came to the arena, and now she knew why: the visiting team, Mora, wore red. Autumn was wearing a red jersey as well, and now, in the sea of white and blue, she stuck out like a sore thumb.
“...but you didn’t tell me-”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Everyone’s staring!”
“No, they’re not.” He was laughing. He thought it was funny. Autumn was embarrassed.
The game was different, with the wider ice surface. She liked the introduction with the small fireworks (he told her it was boring). After searching the ice for a good little while, Autumn finally located #3.
He was tall and very skinny, at least for a hockey player. She squinted to read his name. Ekman-Larsson is an odd one, she thought. Would have to look that up later.
It soon became very clear that there was a reason the fans and arena worshipped him. Ekman-Larsson took off with the puck and seemingly effortlessly bulldozed everyone in his way. He puckhandled like he’d done it all his life. The way he seemed to just float from one spot to the other, without any trouble. Autumn watched him like a hawk.
“Stop staring at him and watch the fucking game,” he sneered. Autumn retracted and forced herself to watch the goaltender. But her eyes caught him again, and this time she became fixed on him.
It was only natural that he’d score the winning goal. He kicked in the air and Autumn found herself cheering with the crowd:
“Ekman-Larsson!”
“Oliver!”
“Ekman-Larsson!”
“Oliver!”
Then, amidst all the noise, excitement and wildness of the hockey arena, time stopped. Oliver Ekman-Larsson took off his helmet and waved at the crowd, and she saw him for the first time. Dark hair that was cut into flattering layers around his face, which was soft and warm. Bright eyes and a smile that took you in. It soon became apparent to her that he was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
And she’d be paying for it.
Her boyfriend noticed. The whole way home he refused to speak to her, and Autumn felt more guilty than ever. Why did she look? She shouldn’t look. She wasn’t allowed to look. How stupid she’d been. She deserved the cold shoulder she received.
“So why don’t you fuck him then?” he exclaimed later while she cooked dinner.
Autumn fought back tears, “I don’t want to! I love you, not him!” She tried to put her arms around him but he pushed her off. Pushed her so hard, in fact, that she crashed into the stove, the boiling water throwing itself onto her skin, burning her instantly. Autumn screamed, tears streaming out of her eyes as she cried from him to call an ambulance.
He scoffed, “You’re an idiot.”
“No,” Autumn had told herself, rolling the poster up, “You can’t have him. He’s far too good for you.”
Now, as they walked to the gym the next day, everything seemed a bit better. Autumn carried her small duffel bag containing her yoga mat and a few other supplies, while Nathalie (naturally more athletic, having been a supreme soccer star) was prepared to hop on the treadmill.
“Yoga studio’s upstairs,” Autumn told her, “I’ll just head up.”
“Alright,” Nathalie said with a nod, “You know where I’ll be.”
As luck would have it, David Rundblad happened to be driving by in his brand-new black Audi, eyes wide as saucers when the two girls crossed the street in front of him. Probably just as wide as Oliver’s, who sat in the passenger’s seat.
“David,” Oliver warned, knowing what his friend was thinking as he turned into a parking lot, “David, no. We can’t stalk them!”
David smirked, parking and pulling out the keys, “You’re going to ask her, whether you like it or not.” Oliver closed his eyes. He was trapped.
Nathalie stepped onto the treadmill and started at a slow pace, preapring herself for her vigorous workout. Autumn put her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the stairs, and unbeknownst to them both, David and Oliver had walked in the door and seen them.
“Where is she going?” Oliver asked, watching Autumn disappear.
“Don’t know, you should go see,” David replied, licking his lips as his eyes remained fixed on Nathalie. She looked good in Adidas shorts, he concurred.
“...right.” Oliver visibly swallowed. I hate you, Nils David Rundblad, he thought, following Autumn up the stairs. Thankfully, she didn’t see him, and he was free to follow so far without being noticed. As he liked it.
Now that he’d reached the top, he wondered where she had gone. Then, looking over a few feet, he saw that she was in the yoga studio- a clear room separated from the hall only by a full glass window. Oliver could see into it no problem.
That was when she started.
Before he could decide what to do, Autumn took off her jacket and laid down her mat. She got into a starting position and bended backwards. Oliver’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. She arched her back, pushing her chest into the air, a perfect view for him.
Oliver propped his hood up, in fear of being seen. It was as though she was putting on a private show, just for him. To his delight, she realized the room was far too hot, and took off her tank top, remaining in her black sports bra. Oliver thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
He watched as she twisted and bent into different yoga positions, allowing himself to admire her fit body. Amidst it all, Oliver felt something coming to life beneath him. He frowned, unsure, and then he felt a familiar tightening in his pants. He panted, feeling himself being brought into a full, swollen girth. He confirmed, in pure disbelief, that she was able to give him his first hard-on in almost a month.
Downstairs, David smirked and walked to the treadmill on the far side of the room, “Hello, stranger.” Nathalie’s eyes lit up right away, making her blush, “Hi...”
He had to have known the effect he had on women, “Looking good.” David gave her the once-over, and his facial expression showed he approved, “What you up to, today?”
Nathalie, who had just about gone into full-out running, reached out to slow the belt, “Oh, you know...well, working out, as you can see...” She caught her breath after a minute. “What about you?”
“We just finished practice,” David replied, “Got my number today. Guess what it is.”
“No idea, surprise me!” Nathalie said with a laugh.
“Seven, of course,” David smiled, “Ollie got stuck with twenty-three.”
“Hey now, that’s my number,” Nathalie said, semi-seriously, “Did you plan this?”
“I do believe I’m entitled, since I’m older than you,” David teased.
“But I’ve been using it my whole life!” Nathalie continued.
“As have I!” David was laughing now, “Anyway, when’s your next practice?”
“Tomorrow, why?”
“Just curious.” Every signal Nathalie was getting from David told her that wasn’t at all the case.
“You coming to stare at me again?” she forced a laugh. But she was serious.
“Well, actually, I was-”
“WE HAVE TO GO.”
David turned around and saw Oliver, his face red, anxious.
“What? Why?”
“I need to go home, now,” Oliver grabbed David’s sleeve and pulled him away. David turned and flashed Nathalie a smile, “See you later, gorgeous!” as Oliver forced him out.
Autumn appeared at Nathalie’s side just as the boys left, “I’m going back. Someone was creeping on me upstairs. Don’t know who, but I feel uncomfortable.”
Nathalie turned and looked at her for a minute, “May have something to do with the fact that you’re wearing just your bra and pants.”
Autumn’s cheeks flushed, “Shit...”
“Looks nice though.”
“Perv.”
“Just saying, calm down,” Nathalie turned back to her machine, “But you should put it on. People are staring.”
-
Oliver had rushed into his bedroom and locked the door. David turned on the television and flopped down. He was curious to find out what had happened upstairs. Did Autumn talk to him, or something more? Yet he knew better than to ask when Oliver was upset.
Roughly fifteen minutes later, Oliver emerged, looking as though he’d run five miles. He tried to act like nothing had happened, wandering into the living room, “What’re you watching?”
David shrugged, “Paradise Hotel. Missed the last few episodes.”
Oliver rolled his eyes, “You’re a girl.”
“What were you doing in there?”
“...nothing.”
David stood up, “Sure.” He went into the kitchen and noticed the paper towels had been thrown across the counter. Easily, he connected the dots.
“Dude...did you-”
“Don’t say it!”
“Well, did you?”
“Yes, I had to, it was...painful.”
“Painful?”
Oliver wouldn’t even look at him, “If you must know, she was doing yoga, and I saw...alot. It came on, I couldn’t get rid of it no matter how much I tried, and...long story short, I had to relieve myself.”
David broke into a smile, “...you’re back in the game.”
“SHUT UP.”
