Later that day, after that disastrous practice, I’m perched on the edge of my couch, nursing a cup of herbal tea, when the rap of knuckles against wood breaks the silence of my apartment. The sound is an unwelcome intruder, echoing in the cavern of my skull. I set my mug down, dragging myself to my feet to shuffle towards the door. Peering through the peephole, the sight that greets me forces a frown upon my lips.
“Alex,” I mutter under my breath before pulling open the door just enough to poke my head out.
The Iceman himself stands before me, his tousled black hair seemingly defying gravity, and the smirk playing on his lips tells me he knows exactly how unexpected his presence is.
“Good afternoon,” he teases, leaning against the door frame. “You look like you’ve been headbutting walls. You had too much fun last night, according to Natasha.”
“Ha-ha,” I deadpan, the urge to slam the door rising like bile. “What do you want, Alex?”
The mischief in his eyes flickers, replaced by something more earnest, more vulnerable than I’m used to seeing in him. It disarms me, loosening the tight coil of annoyance in my chest.
“Look, I... I’ve been thinking about us,” he begins, his voice dipping into unfamiliar territories of softness. “About everything that went down. I know I can be a bit much, but—” He pauses, running a hand through his hair, which somehow makes it look even more disheveled. “I want to be with you.”
The words hang between us, laden with implications and memories best left buried. But they tug at something within me, something that isn’t quite over the intoxicating mix of danger and desire that Alex always brought to my life.
“Alex ...” I begin.
“You didn’t seem all that indecisive when you were talking about me last night,” he says. “I heard it out of your own mouth, Lila. Natasha played the whole thing. You want me. I want you. So what’s the problem.”
“It’s not that simple,” I say, my voice tinged with fatigue. “There’s...”
Nathan's face flashed in my mind—the boy next door with eyes like summer skies and a smile that promised safety. My heart twinges, caught in the crossfire of what I want and what I think I need.
"Listen, I know you're still holding onto the Nathan dream," Alex interrupts my thoughts, his gaze piercing. "But I also know there's something between us. Something worth exploring. And it's cool with me if you want to wait. We can go at your pace."
I bite my lip, the internal battle raging within me. My relationship with Nathan was one of quiet understanding, a serene harbor in the stormy seas of my life. But Alex, with his untamed spirit, had always been the storm itself, exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. “Really?”
“Yeah. I can be a gentleman.”
I give him a doubtful look. Every time I’ve been with him, it always ends with him trying to get me into bed.
“Give me one evening, Lila,” Alex implores, his confidence returning as he senses my hesitation waning. “One chance to show you that things can be different.”
I look into his eyes, searching for the truth behind his words. And for a reason I can’t fully understand, I find myself nodding.
“Okay, one date,” I concede, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Great,” he says, the grin returning to his face as he steps back. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
He turns to leave, and I close the door, leaning against it as I try to steady my racing heart. What am I doing? Nathan’s image lingers in my mind, his gentle demeanor a stark contrast to the whirlwind that is Alex Winters. A sigh escapes me, heavy with the weight of choices hovering like specters in my small apartment.
“It’s fine, Lila,” I tell myself. Because tonight, I’m stepping back into the eye of the storm, and I’m not sure if I’m seeking shelter or courting disaster.
***
The neon marquee of The Grandview Cinema casts a warm glow over the bustling crowd, its old-fashioned charm beckoning moviegoers into the promise of escapism. I’m among them, my heart tapping out an anxious rhythm that’s at odds with the laughter and chatter around me. Alex walks beside me, his presence both comforting and unsettling—a contradiction that seems to define everything about us.
“Popcorn?” he asks, a lopsided grin playing on his lips as we approach the concession stand.
“Sure,” I reply, grateful for any excuse to focus on something other than the turmoil brewing inside me.
He orders a large bucket for us to share—a gesture that’s oddly domestic—and hands it to me along with a drink. I can’t help but smile; it’s such an Alex thing to do, taking charge with an ease that’s almost disarming. As we find our seats in the dimly lit theater, he gestures for me to go first, his hand gentle on the small of my back. There’s a gallantry to him tonight that I haven’t seen before, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
Throughout the movie, I steal glances at him, watching his reactions more than the screen. His face is animated, expressive, so different from the stoic mask I’m used to seeing on the ice. He catches me looking once and winks, sending a jolt through me that I try to quash. It’s just Alex being Alex, I remind myself. But there’s something in his eye that suggests he’s trying, really trying, to connect.
I want to let myself get lost in the moment, to forget everything else and just be here with him. But Nathan’s image keeps flickering in my mind, his steady gaze and soft-spoken words a stark contrast to Alex’s roguish charm. They couldn’t be more different, and yet, I find myself caught between them.
The movie ends, and the credits roll, but the story in my head is far from over. I’m acutely aware of Alex beside me, his knee occasionally brushing against mine, sending ripples of awareness through me. We make idle conversation as the theater empties, but it feels like we’re both skirting around something deeper, something neither of us is ready to face.
As we step back into the night, the cool air feels like a splash of reality. I draw my jacket tighter around me, trying to hold onto the warmth from inside the theater, wishing it could seep into the corners of my doubt and uncertainty. A laugh escapes Alex as he sees me shiver.
“Here,” he says, draping his arm over my shoulders in a half-hug that somehow manages to be both protective and playful.
“Thanks,” I murmur, leaning into his strength for just a moment before straightening up. I need to keep my head clear, but with Alex this close, clarity is the last thing my racing thoughts are offering.
We walk in comfortable silence, the crackling tension between us woven into the very air we breathe. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he can be a gentleman. I find myself wondering what he's thinking if he senses the same electric charge that seems to tingle wherever our bodies are close.
In the quiet spaces between our steps, Nathan’s name whispers like a ghost in my mind, and guilt tightens around my chest. Why can’t I just enjoy this time with Alex? Why does every smile, every touch, have to be weighed against what I feel—or don’t feel—for Nathan? My thoughts are a tangled mess, and I wish I could unravel them, lay them out neatly so I could understand my own heart.
“Did you like the movie?” Alex’s voice cuts through my reflections, bringing me sharply back to the present.
“It was good,” I say, my response automatic, but my mind is still miles away, caught in a love triangle that has no clear resolution. Every laugh, every shared glance with Alex is tinged with the shadow of another, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to step fully into the light.
“Hey,” he starts, his voice casual but probing, “about that recording...”
I freeze, my heart skipping a beat.
“Listen, Lila,” Alex continues, leaning back against the cool brick wall, “you called Nathan boring, which I get—he is Mr. Perfect, after all. But you also said you still think about him.” His eyes search mine, trying to unravel the thoughts I keep so carefully hidden. “You care about him.”
I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “Alex, it doesn’t matter,” I say, my voice more firm than I feel. “He’s still with Natasha. Whatever I said... it’s irrelevant.”
“Is it?” There’s something in the way Alex says it, a hint of vulnerability beneath the confidence, that catches me off guard.
Before I can respond, his expression shifts back to the playful smirk I know so well. “Anyway, enough about Nathan. How about we grab some food? I’m starving.”
I’m taken aback by the suggestion. I’d braced myself for the inevitable invitation to his apartment, the silent question hanging between us about whether this date would end as so many others had. But instead, he’s asking to prolong our time together in the most innocent of ways.
“Sure,” I reply, trying to hide my surprise. “A diner sounds great.”
As we walk, I struggle to push Nathan from my mind, to focus on Alex and the effort he’s making. He’s opening up, showing me a new side—a side that’s considerate and unexpectedly sweet. Could the infamous Iceman have truly changed?
“Thanks for tonight,” I say when we’re alone again, the words spilling out before I can overthink them. “For being a gentleman.”
"That's the new me for you," he replies, squeezing my hand. His touch sends warmth spiraling up my arm, and for a moment, I allow myself to bask in the comfort it brings.
“Let’s just enjoy tonight, okay?” he adds with a soft smile that makes my chest tighten. “No expectations, no complications.”
I nod, wishing more than anything that I could do just that—enjoy the moment without the ghost of Nathan haunting my every thought. I want to believe in this version of Alex, in the possibility of us. But the past has a way of holding on, and as much as I try to shake it, I’m not sure I’m ready to let go.