Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm now apparently making them ice skate.

Anyagal is kindly prereading for me. Thank you, my friend!

Silence & Squall

"Bells!"

For a split second, every cell in my body freezes. Other than the tiny, unavoidable hitch in my steps, I don't react, however. Instead, pretending I don't hear him, I jerk my bag higher up on my shoulder and continue my way down the empty hall.

Dealing with Ty is the last thing I want to do today.

It's right up there with breaking in a fresh pair of skates.

"Come on, wait up!" Ty yells, and rubber soles slap against the concrete floor.

Damn it.

Knowing he'll catch up one way or another, I stop. As I wait, my face tips toward the ceiling, and I let out a long, deflated sigh. "What do you want, Ty?"

"Aw, don't be like that," he purrs, pouring on what I'm sure he thinks is charm. "I'm starting to think you're avoiding me."

No, you don't say.

I give him a bland, decidedly uninterested smile. "Really? What makes you think that?"

He grins, ignoring my sarcasm, and thrusts a hand through dark curly hair. It's damp like his navy Team USA tee, and when he steps closer–like usual, too close–sweat and the stale, musty scent of the weight room hits my nose like a brick wall. "Aren't you at least going to give me a chance to apologize?"

"You?" I laugh. "Apologize? For what?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's a rarity, I know." Grin widening, Tyler shoots me a mischievous look and leans toward me like he's spilling some big secret. "But seriously, the other day on the ice… I honestly didn't see you."

"It's fine." I shrug, using the opportunity to take a surreptitious step back, away from him and the stench. "No harm, no foul."

"Good thing the new guy was following you around."

"What?" I ask, feigning ignorance. This feels different from our little altercation a few weeks ago at the gym, and I don't like it at all. "Yeah, I guess so."

Smile never wavering, Ty laughs, but his eyes give him away. Like usual, they travel the length of my body, darkening and lingering on my chest and midriff. He steps toward me, chasing me, closing the distance between us again. "Why don't you let me make it up to you?"

Something ugly slithers through my veins. "Nah, we're good. I promise."

"But I want to."

Overhead, one of the fluorescents flickers, and I glance down the empty hall. In the background, I pick up the faint sound of a radio and a muted metallic clink coming from the weight room at the far end, but that's it. There's not another soul around, and as he stares down at me, topping me by a head, I'm suddenly very aware of the differences in our size and strength.

Throwing up my hands in mock surrender, I take another slow step backward, toward the arena exit. "Look, can we do this later? I'm sorry, but I really have to run."

"Will you just wait?" A hand clamps onto my forearm and squeezes, jerking me back. "Can you stop being such a bitch for one fucking minute? I just want to talk to you."

I still, and my gaze darts up to Tyler's face. That cajoling smile's vanished, replaced with gritted teeth and seething anger.

"Okay," I say, quietly, finally recognizing that something ugly in my veins for what it is–panic. My stomach sinks, and my heart pounds against my ribcage, pumping the blood so fast it sings in my ears. "What do you want to talk about?"

"See?" Still gripping my arm, Ty yanks me around until my back thumps against the wall. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

I steal another glance up and down the hall and swallow, weighing my options. "Sure, no problem."

"So, have you?"

My brows furrow. "Have I what?"

He tuts. "Been avoiding me."

"No, not at all," I tell him, smiling, lying, really freaking wishing I had that barbell. I shake my head. "Just been really busy lately. Katya's killing me with the new routine, and I barely have time to sleep, let alone socialize."

"Is that right?" Ty's voice drops to an angry whisper, and his grip on my arm tightens. I'm certain I'm going to bruise. When the fluorescents flicker again, I notice his irises are black as night and blown like saucers. Vaguely, I wonder what he's on, not that that really helps me. "That's not what I heard."

Another frisson of warning slides down my spine, and I fake nonchalance. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

"The fuck, you don't," he growls, shoving me harder against the wall. A soft whimper escapes before I can stop it, and his gaze zeros in on my mouth. "But you really like playing hard to get, don't you? Or do you think I'm not good enough for you?"

"Ty, come on," I say, whispering. The edges of my vision blur, and salt burns my eyes. "Stop it. Don't do this. Let me go."

"You don't mean that."

Before I can argue, his free hand grabs the back of my neck. Long fingers bore through my hair to dig into muscle. He drops my forearm only to seize my hip, and he yanks me forward, jerking my head back.

I open my mouth to scream.

Only nothing comes out.

I blink in stunned surprise–at him, at myself, at this whole fucked up situation–and Ty's lips roughly slam into mine. I blink again, and his tongue surges into my mouth in a wet, slimy assault. I recoil as the hand on my hip slides up my ribcage. His thumb flicks my nipple, then pinches.

"Fuck," he says, groaning into my mouth as he grabs my whole breast and squeezes. I squeal as he gropes me, but he just laughs and mashes his lips harder against mine, muffling away the sound. He groans again. "God, I knew it."

Ty rubs his groin against my abdomen. I feel him harden, and when he reaches for the waistband of my leggings, my brain snaps. Air saws in and out of my lungs as I scrabble against him, scratching his bare arms with my nails. I sink my fist into his gut. It's not a real hit, but it's enough that he lets go of my leggings and pulls away, giving me enough space to shove at his chest.

The second he moves, I bring my knee up and slam it into his crotch as hard as I can.

Ty howls in pain, letting me go instantly. He falls back against the opposite wall and doubles over.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" I scream, wheeling away from him. "Don't even look at me!"

"You fucking cock tease!" Hunched over and holding his balls, he glares daggers and wheezes. "Don't act all innocent. You've been begging me for it for years. Years, Bella!"

A screech of rage, frustration, and something else that I can't quite define comes out of me. All I know is I want–no, need–to be away. Away from him. Away from the arena. Away from everything and everyone.

Bile climbs my esophagus.

"Leave me alone!" I say, swallowing down bitterness. "Don't come near me, or I swear to God, I'll report you."

"You wouldn't dare." He seethes but doesn't come any closer. "She said, he said, you know how it goes. No one will want to partner with you. You'll end your career… what's left of it anyway."

His verbal punch finds its mark. My insides feel like they're vibrating, like I'm about to come apart at the seams, but when I reply, it comes out cold and far, far calmer than I actually feel. "Just try me, and you won't skate again."

Without waiting for his reply, I throw my bag over my shoulder and speed walk down the hall. Chillbumps race down my arms, my heart hammers, and my stomach roils, threatening to revolt. As soon as I hit the end of the hall, I push through the exit doors and barrel out into the dark parking lot. Icy air blasts my cheeks and stings my eyes.

For a second, I look around, frantically searching for… I don't know what.

Shaking my head to clear the fog, I jog over to my car. There's only a handful of vehicles left, and for once, as I fumble with my keys under the faint glow of the nearby flood light, I'm grateful.

I don't need spectators right now, especially not the kind who gossip.

"Hey."

I flinch at the quiet, familiar voice, and something inside my chest threatens to crack and spill out into a sob. Rather than giving in, I suck in a deep, steadying breath, and my forehead tips forward to rest against the cold metal of my doorframe, searching for some kind of grounding.

"Hey," Edward says again. Gravel crunches softly behind me, only stopping when he's a few feet away.

Swallowing, I swipe streaks of silent wetness off my cheeks. As I finally angle around, my shoulders straighten, and I plaster on my very best performance smile. "Hey, yourself."

This time, Edward stills. Standing there in the cold, dressed in his typical all black ensemble and with his hands tucked deep inside his pockets, he looks every bit a shadow. His eyes, gleaming from the light, narrow as they roam my face. His forehead creases. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I say, lying through my teeth. "I didn't realize you were still here. Thought you'd already gone."

He doesn't answer for a second. Instead, he continues to scan my face, then his gaze falls to my hand, which I belatedly realize is still shaking. My keys rattle in the silence.

"Doesn't seem like nothing," Edward says, softer. He motions to a pair of crimson brake lights exiting the parking lot. "I was just talking to Garrett and saw you come out." He frowns. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, seriously…" My voice comes out small and hoarse, and I hate it. "I'm fine. I just ne–"

"Where are you heading?" he asks before I can finish.

"Home." I gulp back another lungful of ice-cold air and clear my throat. "Edward, I'm sorry. I can't skate tonight. I–"

"Why don't you let me drive you home?" Edward nods at my trembling keys. "We can take your car, and I'll Uber back. If you want, text Angela to let her know."

"I–" I hesitate and look down at the pavement. The white lines begin to blur.

I want to tell him no. I should tell him no.

But for whatever reason, I don't.

I can't.

Instead, I scrub my face, give him a watery smile, and take a leap. "Yeah, okay. I'd appreciate that."

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.

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