Nine

Zora

The road stretches ahead, bathed in warm afternoon light, the hum of the engine blending with the soft chatter inside the car. Everything feels light, and easy—like a perfect moment frozen in time.

"Are you guys excited for our trip?" My dad's voice carries from the front seat, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror, catching mine and Ashley's reflection.

"We're finally visiting NYU," I say, more to myself than anyone else. It doesn't feel real yet.

"I'm excited to finally feel like an only child," Ashley jokes, flashing me a teasing grin.

I roll my eyes, playing along. "Oh, I'm sure you are. One less person to stop you from raiding my closet."

She laughs, nudging me with her knee, and for a second, everything is normal.

"You'll love NYU," my mom chimes in from the passenger seat, her voice warm with nostalgia. "It's where your dad and I met. Maybe you'll find a nice boy there too."

Ashley glances at me, her expression shifting—something soft and knowing.

I force a smile, but the word boy rings in my ears like an off-key note.

"Maybe," I murmur, turning my gaze to the window.

The car falls into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of the road, the lull of my parents' voices—it all starts to blur together as my eyelids grow heavy. My body relaxes. Sleep pulls at me, gentle, insistent...

Then Ashley's scream rips through the air.

"Dad, watch out!"

My eyes snap open.

Headlights—blinding, bearing down on us too fast.

The deafening screech of tires.

The jolt of impact slams my body forward.

Metal crunches. Glass shatters. A sickening force yanks me sideways. Pain explodes through me, then—

Nothing.

Darkness swallows everything.

A sharp gasp tears from my throat as my eyes fly open. My chest heaves, my pulse hammering in my ears. The room around me is dark, but not that kind of darkness. Not the empty void. Not the cold, but suffocating nothingness.

I try to move, but my body feels weighed down like I'm trapped. Only my head obeys, jerking to the side.

And then I see her.

Ashley.

She's staring at me. Eyes open. Unblinking.

But she's not breathing.

I open my mouth to scream, but the sound dies in my throat.

I reach for her, but my hands won't move.

She's right there. But she's gone.

The silence is deafening.

Then, just as suddenly

I wake up.

Again.

The sound of my screams tore through the silence of Reya's bedroom, raw and desperate, like I was still trapped in the nightmare. My chest heaved, my breaths shallow and erratic as I clawed my way back to reality. My skin was damp with sweat, my hands trembling as I gripped the blanket, trying to ground myself, trying to convince myself that I wasn't still there—in that car, in that moment, watching everything shatter around me.

"Are you okay?" Reya's voice was thick with sleep but edged with concern as she sat up abruptly, fumbling for the light.

The sudden brightness burned my eyes, but it wasn't enough to chase away the dark images seared into my mind. The flash of headlights. The bone-crushing impact. Ashley's lifeless stare.

It wasn't real. It was just a dream. Just a dream.

I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat refused to go away. "I'm fine," I rasped, but my voice was weak, my body betraying me as hot tears slipped down my cheeks. My arms wrapped around myself instinctively, as if I could hold myself together as if I wasn't already unraveling.

Reya hesitated, watching me carefully like she was afraid I might break apart right in front of her. "Do you... want me to get Stevie?" she asked, her voice uncertain.

I shook my head quickly, swiping at my damp cheeks. "No. I'm okay. You don't need to wake her. It was just a bad dream." My voice cracked on the last word, exposing the lie.

The truth was, it wasn't just a dream. It was a memory, a ghost that never stopped haunting me, lurking in the corners of my mind, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Reya shifted closer, her expression softening. "Was it about your family?"

I didn't trust my voice, so I just nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I wanted to say no. I wanted to shove it all back down where it belonged, lock it away like I always did. But the nightmare had torn down my defenses, and the words slipped out before I could stop them.

"We were on our way to tour NYU," I started, my voice barely above a whisper. "And then... the crash. I saw my sister—she wasn't breathing. And that's when I woke up." My stomach twisted painfully, my fingers gripping the fabric of my pants. "It felt so real. Like I was right back there. The way everything went silent after the impact, the way my head was the only thing I could move, the way she just... stared at me." My breath hitched. "And it just—it doesn't stop. The guilt. The memories. They don't stop."

Reya didn't speak right away. Instead, she reached out, with a quiet invitation.

I hesitated for only a second before moving toward her, letting her arms wrap around me. The warmth of her embrace was steady, grounding, something solid to hold onto while the storm inside me raged.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I wish there was something I could say or do to change the past."

"Me too," I whispered. I pressed my face against her shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut. But the images were still there, flickering in the darkness behind my eyelids.

After a few moments, Reya loosened her hold, just slightly. "Here, lie down," she said gently, shifting back.

The moment she let go, the emptiness rushed back in, cold and hollow. But then she spoke again. "You can lay on me."

I froze. "You want to... cuddle?"

Her cheeks flushed, and she let out a quiet, awkward chuckle. "When you put it like that, it sounds weird. I just—I'm trying to comfort you, okay? Now, lay down so I can hold you."

My own face flushed, but I didn't argue. I lay down slowly, resting my head against her chest, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt. Her arms circled around me again, this time more secure, more certain.

I could hear the rhythmic thump of her heartbeat beneath my ear, fast at first—like mine—but then, slowly, it steadied.

I focused on that sound. The steady, soothing rhythm.

I wasn't sure what to make of this closeness, this shift that has been developing between us. From rivals to... friends? Something more?

No.

It can't be anything more.

After tonight, I'll go back to being nothing but a tutor and a competitor on the ice. I'll make sure of that.

But tonight?

Tonight I'm going to enjoy whatever it is we have.

"Thank you," I whispered after a while, my voice barely audible over the quiet room.

Reya didn't answer.

I glanced up and saw her eyes closed, her breathing even.

She'd fallen asleep.

I exhaled slowly, my own body finally starting to relax, and as I listened to the quiet rhythm of her heartbeat, I finally let sleep pull me under.

✰✰✰✰✰

"Zora." Stevie's voice nudged me out of my hazy slumber.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, refusing to open my eyes, the comfort of sleep still clinging to me.

"Zora, wake up," Stevie said, her tone sharper this time.

Reluctantly, I cracked my eyes open, as the harsh morning light hit me like a truck. I groaned softly and sat up, pressing a hand to my temple. My head felt like it was pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat, a not-so-gentle reminder of last night's chaos.

The room was quiet, and it didn't take long to notice Reya wasn't in bed. The covers on her side were tossed aside haphazardly, as though she'd left in a rush.

I stared at the empty side of the bed where Reya had laid as snippets of the night came flooding back. The way her voice softened when she'd told me it was okay after I'd thrown up, how easily she'd carried me upstairs, the warmth of her hands as she helped me into the shower. The nightmare I had and how she comforted me.

And then the memory I had completely ignored when I woke from my nightmare: I had spent the night in Reya's Jones bed. Her body was only inches from mine before she held me. I thought about how warm she was and how safe she had made me feel.

My cheeks burned as I realized how much that thought excited me. The feelings I had for her were confusing, but I knew one thing for certain: I needed to get over it. I couldn't act on it. The lines between being her tutor and her rival on the ice were already too blurry.

"Zora," Stevie called again, knocking me from my thoughts.

"What is it?" I grumbled, turning my head to squint at Stevie, who was already fully awake and standing at the side of the bed. It was then that I realized I had a pounding headache that was most likely from last night's chaos.

"Come on. Reya—"

"I what?" Reya's voice cut in as she walked into the room, balancing a tray of food, a glass of water, and a small bottle of pain medicine. Her presence caught me off guard as Stevie and I looked in her direction.

"Made breakfast," Stevie finished with a grin, shooting me a playful wink before stepping toward the door. "I'll leave you two alone," she added, disappearing into the hallway.

"I brought you breakfast," Reya said, her tone neutral and cold. Nothing like it was last night. "I figured you wouldn't be feeling great this morning."

"You didn't have to do that," I said softly, surprised by the gesture.

"I also brought some pain medicine," she added, motioning toward the bottle on the tray. "Figured they might help with... that." Her gaze flicked toward me massaging my temples.

A small smile tugged at my lips. Reya set the tray down on the bed and perched on the edge, her coffee mug in hand. The silence stretched between us as I picked up the fork and started eating.

The food was simple but comforting—scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon, with a cup of coffee. The coffee was warm and slightly bitter, exactly what I needed. But the awkwardness in the air was undeniable. She was right there, yet somehow felt a million miles away.

"I'm sorry about last night," I finally said, breaking the silence.

"Don't worry about it," Reya replied flatly, not looking up from her phone.

"And thank—"

"Stop," Reya interrupted, standing abruptly as her phone buzzed in her hand. She sighed heavily and answered, "Hey, Dad."

The shift in her tone was instant. I froze, unsure whether to leave or stay, so instead, I focused on my food, trying not to eavesdrop.

"No, I didn't play last night," Reya said, her voice strained. "I don't understand why you only call to yell at me... If this is what you were going to do, why did you even bother calling? No, you and Mom haven't been to a single hockey game, and now you're complaining about the one I didn't play in?"

Her words cut through the quiet air, sharp and bitter. She started pacing, her voice rising. Though I tried to tune it out, snippets of the conversation slipped through.

I wondered what had happened for Reya's relationship with her parents to be so rocky. She hardly talked about them and when she did, it was never good.

After a few tense minutes, she hung up and left the room without another word. Her footsteps echoed down the stairs, leaving the air heavy with unspoken frustration.

I hesitated, then set my tray aside and quietly made my way to the top of the stairs.

The phone call had clearly rattled her, and barging downstairs didn't seem like the right move. Although I am concerned... and a bit nosey.

"...He called?" Genevieve's voice carried softly from the kitchen.

"Yeah," Reya said, her tone sharper now. "To bitch at me for not playing last night and for failing calculus. He said he and Mom work too hard to pay for my school for me to screw around. I didn't even ask them to pay for college. I didn't want to go in the first place."

Reya never wanted to go to college? Then why is she here?

"I'm sorry, Reya," Genevieve said, her voice quiet with sympathy.

"It's fine," Reya replied, though the bitterness in her tone betrayed her words. "I'm used to it. I just wish, for once, they'd say they were proud of me instead of constantly tearing me down. If they weren't so busy with their businesses and actually came to one of my games, maybe they'd see how hard I work to play hockey."

I couldn't help but feel a wave of bitterness wash over me. Reya was always talking about how much hockey meant to her, how great she was. Yet she was ineligible to play, and I was in her spot. If hockey meant that much to her, why had she let it slip away?

Her words hung heavy in the air and beneath the confident, sharp-tongued exterior, there was something raw. Something vulnerable.

Footsteps neared the stairs. Quickly, I slipped back into her room before she could catch me lingering.

A moment later, she walked in, her expression carefully neutral, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away.

She sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh, cradling her coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Everything okay?" I asked cautiously.

"Yeah." The answer was curt, revealing nothing. She stared into her mug, then glanced at me. "What were you saying before my phone rang?"

My phone buzzed.

Stevie: Getting ready to head home. You coming or staying?

Me: Coming. Give me a few.

I looked up. "Stevie's heading out, so I should go, but... I was going to say thank you. For taking care of me. And for letting me stay."

"Of course." Reya took a sip of coffee, not meeting my eyes. "I may not like you, but I wasn't gonna let you sit in your own vomit or sleep on the couch."

I laughed as I grabbed my bag. "I appreciate it."

"Make sure you rest and drink water," she added. "We have practice later."

I shook my head, grinning. "Noted."

As I stepped into the hallway, Stevie was already there, bag over her shoulder, keys in hand.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready."

And with that, we left.