Let’s set the scene.

“I think you’re like, my new favorite person.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s like I want to spend every day I can with you. I don’t think I've ever felt like that.”

“I feel the exact same way.”

Totally platonic, no questions asked. Right? Wrong. For her it was. It has always been a friendship, nothing more than that. No stolen glances across the room, friends going to each other's events, etc. Not for me. I would feel a burning inside of me when I caught her eye, I skipped family dinner to make it to her playoff game, and yes, I liked her. A lot. I’ve suppressed these feelings since sophomore year, pushing them down deeper and deeper into my own personal abyss. Now it’s time. My therapist has been suggesting that I go back to past thoughts in order to move on. When revisiting the idea of liking her, I realized that I didn’t want to move past that. So here I am, finally following through.

On December 7th, I went to the game. It was a big night, the Stanford hockey coach was coming. This was the perfect time to make my move. I had just gotten my driver's license the week before, and I had been planning this out for months now. The night was going to be great. She came out onto the ice, somehow showing beauty and grace underneath 20 layers of protective padding. Her smile broke through the mouth guard, but went blank when she went up for the toss. I think that’s what it’s called at least. I know little to nothing about hockey, but it seemed like everything worked well! The game ended with a buzzer beater where she made an assist. She met with her dad afterwards, and I had to turn away. I know their power dynamic is what keeps her playing so great, but it’s painful to watch. His way of showing that he cares is through being mean, according to their family. I do not understand or relate, but I can move past it. As I wait for her, I get this feeling that everything is going to go well tonight. I’ve been planning this for so long, and it will be very difficult to screw it up. 

Walking out of the arena, she seems small, like something’s off. We both shrug it off and get in the car. This is my first time driving her, and she is very apprehensive as she gets in the car. After some banter, she agrees to go to the Circle K twenty minutes away, just to get the limited edition shirley temple flavored slurpee. We’re in the car, slurpees acquired. I can feel the condensation seeping out from the cheap paper cup and onto my sweaty palm. I’m trying not to talk too much about my psychology teacher, which is where I got the idea for the slurpee night from. It is very important that I limit side conversations that will offset the mood. I’m quite nervous, but am somewhat at ease when I see that she feels the same. Living in a small town is so great, with so many things to do! Therefore, we are in the back of a Target parking lot, listening to music. One of the most important parts of the night is coming up, a song placed specifically at the 14th minute of this playlist. When it comes on, she looks up at me with this gleam in her eyes. I know that I can do this, that it will work. We slowly get out of the car, and move towards each other, the shine of the headlights cutting through us like a blade. Coming together, hand in hand, beginning to dance. Our bodies are interlocking puzzle pieces, finally coming together after being separated underneath the couch cushions. The world seems to stand still, and I feel peace, a sense of equilibrium. She melts in my arms, releasing all of the pent up energy and feelings that we both have been hiding from each other. It all works out, and my perfect high school love story comes true.

On December 7th, I went to the game. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her, so I had to see it. I had to watch the blade of her opponent's ice skate cut through her face, running down to her throat, and through her shoulder. I watched as she fell to the ground, sliding on the ice, with a stream of crimson flowing from underneath her. Shock overwhelms my body, and I am like the ice. Tears flow through me like the blood on the ice rink. I don’t even remember if I could scream. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. No slurpees, no song, no dancing. I melted into my seat, trying to absorb the pain for her. She doesn’t deserve this level of hurt, but she is the one facing it. 

On December 8th, I woke up in the hospital, but she didn’t.