Breakaway (AU,M/L,MATURE) NEW Part 9 2/21/05 [WIP]

[sugarplum17]

Title: Breakaway
Author: Sugarplum17
Rating: MATURE
Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Roswell in any way shape or form, none of these characters belong to me.
Summary: A poor hockey player from the wrong side of town falls for a rich-bitch ice skater.

Author's Note: This is the same story that most of you know and love, but because I started writing it when I was 17 or 18 I ended up hating what had become of it because it went in directions that I didn't exactly what it to go in. Now that I'm older, I feel that I'm capable now more than I was of writing it the way that I want it to be written and taking it to where I wanted it to go. In many ways, this will be an entirely new story while still retaining aspects of the story that readers loved about the old version. Speaking of which, you can find it here. And I still thank schurry for the wonderful banner she made for this fic.


<center>
Chapter One
Boy Meets Girl...Sort Of</center>


His observant eyes roamed the extravagantly decorated dining room, watching people as they ate their meals and socialized with champaign in their hands. Yet another boring country club party. He didn’t see how people could live like this. He didn’t understand how it made them happy, and truth be told, he didn’t think he would ever understand. These people and their designer duds were a mystery to him. It was as if they had all come from one planet and he was living on a planet in an entirely different universe and galaxy. He just plain didn’t get it.

“Hey!” A voice behind him startled him, causing him to turn his head in its direction.

He quirked an eyebrow at its owner, “Yeah?”

“Come on man.” Kyle Valenti called out over the bustle in the kitchen. He was standing by the back door clad in his work uniform with his hand poised to twist its knob. “Our break is over, we have to get back to work.”

Taking one last pitying look at the people in the crowded dining room, Max Evans pushed himself away from the door. “Yeah, yeah. I’m comin.”




She was sitting an entirely improper way, and was well aware of it. Not only was she slouched, but she was sitting on the floor with her back leaned up against the wall and her legs crossed over each other as if she were meditating. Her head rested against the white wall behind her and her hands were splayed on each side against the cold marble floor.

It wasn’t her fault that these parties were always so boring. It wasn’t her fault that she needed to sneak away from the endless talk about shopping, boys, and–as much as she loved it–ice skating that went on at her table. It wasn’t her fault that her mother cared so much about appearances and was likely to throw a fit, in private of course, if she were to catch her only daughter sitting on the floor. Sometimes, she just wanted to be a normal girl. She didn’t want to worry about what her mother would think or what other people would think. She didn’t want to be so perfect all the time. She wanted to get mucked up, kick up her heels, let her hair down, get a little dirty. Sometimes, she just wanted to reject it. Everything. Her privileged life, her wonderful skating coaches, the country club, her rich friends, her perfect boyfriend. She wanted to reject all of it.

With those thoughts in her head, she caught sight of her mother. Whose icy blue eyes were looking directly into her warm and beautiful brown ones. Behind her mother’s expression of practiced joy, there was an abundance of embarrassment and warning. She could see it. What would people think? She had better get off the floor as if she were some homeless person, if she knew what was good for her.

So much for rejecting it. She thought as she pushed herself up the wall. With one brown eye on her mother, she busied her hands by smoothing out the wrinkles in the skirt of her designer cocktail dress. She only stopped her ministrations when her mother looked away and began talking with one of her parent’s country club friends.

Rolling her eyes, she relaxed her posture. It was as if the room had suddenly gotten smaller, warmer. She needed out. Looking around, she spotted the closest exit and cast one last glance at her mother. Her stint on the floor was going to earn her a grounding, she was sure of it. Pushing that thought of her head, she walked out of the dining room.




Side by side, Max and Kyle pushed their mops around the floor of the men’s locker room. They were not part of the dining crew, so their duties were pretty much over for the evening after they finished mopping the locker room floor. They’d already mopped the basketball courts, swept the tennis courts, and mopped or swept the various other courts. Max had already ran the zamboni around the ice rink too. Although he thought it odd that a country club would have one in the first place, it was the only reason he had taken the job on. Free access to the ice rink after closing so long as he smoothed out the ice after he was finished. It was perfect for him.

After they had finished, Kyle led them out of the locker room, stopping short after exiting the door. “Man what the hell?”

“What?” Max asked, clearly confused.

“Fuckin’ rich kids.” Kyle muttered as he pointed to the center of the ice. It was then that Max noticed her for the first time. “They think they own this place. Like we’re here for their own personal amusement. Like we don’t have lives too.”

Max would have agreed, but he was too mesmerized by the figure on the ice. Her movements were so graceful. He reached out and patted his grumpy friend on the back. “Take off Kyle. I’ll run the zamboni again.”

“The point is, Max, that you shouldn’t have to.” Kyle argued. “These damn rich kids think that rules don’t apply to them, Evans. They can just waltz into a closed building, strap on a pair of skates and push their anorexic asses around the rink a few times until they get bored.”

“Kyle, just go man.” Max said as he ripped his gaze from the skater on the ice. “The rules don’t apply to these rich kids. Not here.” His beautiful hazel eyes found their way back to the lithe form on the ice. “I’ll take care of this.”

With a resigned sigh, Kyle Valenti agreed to leave. He was unaware of Max’s attraction to this skating femme fatale as he pushed open the doors and disappeared into the night. Leaving Max and his figure skater alone.

Max doubted that she was anorexic. Bulimic maybe, but probably not anorexic. Despite the fact that she was probably some rich bitch with a diva’s attitude, he couldn’t help but be captivated by the way that her pink dress flew around her legs as she moved around the ice. He couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the swell of her breasts and the bend of her back. He couldn’t help but admire her graceful arms as they bent to and fro or the way she lifted her elongated legs. He most certainly couldn’t help but notice the way her long chocolate tresses splayed out in the air as she turned circles in the middle of the ice.

He was completely and utterly captivated and there was no doubt about it.

However, a rule was a rule whether you were a rich kid or not. He cleared his throat. “Hey you!” He called out, watching in muted horror as she became startled and fell. No turning back now, a rule was a rule. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”





TBC

[sugarplum17]

AN: I should be studying for my final exam tomorrow, but I wrote this instead. It may seem short or choppy because once I started it, I wanted it to get done so I could get back to studying. It's 2:30am! Hope you like it.

<center>Chapter Two
First Impressions</center>


She hit the ice hard when she had lost her concentration and fallen. Figure skaters had to deal with the noise and the clapping and the hoots and hollers at their recitals or competitions, but it was in an entirely different way. They expected it. They prepared for it. They learned how to block it out. She wasn’t in front of an audience and she wasn’t expecting anyone to waltz into the rink and yell at her. She bristled with embarrassment and irritation.

“What the hell?!” She barked from her spot on the ice. Her butt was freezing, but she didn’t particularly care about it at that moment.

All she could manage to focus no was the figure that stood by the men’s locker room door. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Me?” She couldn’t quite make out his clothes or his face. She could only see his shape; his silhouette, however his shadowed features didn’t hide the indignation in his voice. “Who the fuck are you, lady?”

Her mouth dropped. Who the hell was speaking to her like this? Did he have any idea who she was?! She quickly closed her mouth and pushed herself into a standing position. Before she knew what she was doing, she was gliding across the ice in his direction, ready to smack this smart ass across his featureless, shadowed face. When she neared the edge of the rink, she shifted her feet to the side and sprayed ice at him, purposely.

It was then she could make out the clothes. The uniform. The corner of her lip twisted skyward. “I’m the bitch who’s gonna get you fired.”

“The fuck you will.” His tone seemed effortlessly careless. “You’re the bitch who’s gonna get kicked out or banned from the club and or rink when the owner finds out about this, and I’m the prick who’s gonna tell him.”

She crossed her arms underneath her breasts. A movement and emphasis on certain things she knew, by the flicker of his eyes, that he didn’t miss. “Oh are you now?” She was sure once she dropped a few names, he would be singing a different tune. And even if he did decide to nark her out, it wouldn’t matter. She was Liz fucking Parker for christ’s sake.

She stared at him, trying not to notice how handsome he was. She tried to stare at his forehead rather than into his intensely odd colored eyes. She shifted her weight and cocked her head to the side. “Ever heard of Jeff Parker?”

He looked at her with a snide expression. “Actually Princess, I haven’t. You ever heard of Marcus Wundt?”

She had actually. He was the owner of the country club and the man who employed this prick infront of her. “Ever heard of Karen Wundt?” She asked, bitterly. “Yeah well, she’s Marcus’s wife and my mother’s best friend. So fuck off.”

His cheeks were pink. A very pleasing shade of it. Quickly, she averted her eyes.

“You fuckin rich kids. You think you can get away with everything just because mommy and daddy have connections.” He seemed to realize he had lost this game and sighed. “Just take off the skates, okay? I won’t say anything if you don’t.”

Truth be told, she would get into trouble if she were to found skating after hours on the rink. If she were a forthcoming person at all, she would have admitted to this guy that Karen and her mother weren’t exactly close friends. However, she wasn’t going to let this guy get the upper hand.

“Whatever.” She said as nonchalantly as she possibly could. She made her way over to the bleachers and sat down to remove her skates. “It’s not like I need to keep this quiet. I can have you fired and banned from this country club for the rest of your miserable little life.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Lucky for you that I’m willing to be an adult about it and forget about the whole thing.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes at her and turned his head to the side, but he still seemed to be watching her every move. “Lucky for me.”




Later that night, as Max rode the zamboni around, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the girl he had caught in the rink. She’d been a royal bitch, but she skated beautifully. He was sure he would dream about her later that night. The way she gracefully floated across the ice. The way her arms bent, the curve of her hips as she skated backward.

He wasn’t particularly attracted to her, he just admired her skating. Her gracefulness. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. She was rude, and she had a very foul mouth. She thought she owned the world. Yeah, she was a total bitch.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d moved. As he smoothed each strip of ice with the machine he sat on, his mind flashed back to what she had done. She had done a jump in the very spot he was gliding over. She’d turned circles to his right. It was as if his mind had committed her routine to memory, in all of the three minutes he sat there watching her.

Get a grip, Max. He told himself sternly. She’s just a rich bitch, prissy ice skater. She’s vain, arrogant, and probably bulimic too.

[sugarplum17]

For anyone who was wondering, or anyone who cares, my anniversary was absolutely wonderful. I hope you enjoy this part, and I'm going to try not to let you guys go so long without another part. But, you'll have to try and remind me.



<center>Part Three
A Piece of Pie</center>



“So where did you disappear to last night, Lizzie?” She cringed at the nick name she’d always hated, and the voice that spewed it at her like acid.

“Hi Tess.”

“Well?” Tess drawled, obviously intent on finding out where she had slipped off to. Although Liz had a sneaking suspicion that Tess knew exactly where she had been.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Deciding to just give into the question, before it became a relentless repetition. “I snuck into the rink last night to get a few laps in. Happy now?”

Tess smirked. “I knew that’s where you went.” She sounded as if she had just uncovered a crucial piece of information. Something important that could win a battle, but not a war. “Anything interesting happen?”

Liz studied her from the corner of her eye. Had Tess followed her there? She wasn’t about to tell the curly-haired blonde beside her that she had met the newest crew member of the Westminister Country Club. There was no way that Liz Parker was going to tell Tess Harding that his eyes were the most beautiful pair of eyes she had ever seen and that she couldn’t get them out of her head.

After a few moments of consideration, Liz shrugged. “Not really.”

Tess’s shoulders slumped slightly as her eyes narrowed. “So, are we going to Sean’s game this weekend?” She asked snottily. “I heard he’s playing some team from across town. You know, the public school peasants.”

Liz wanted to smack her. Instead she said, “Yeah. We’re going.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Should be fun.”

Tess giggled. “Oh you bet it will.” She clutched the strap of her Prada backpack and stroked it with her manicured fingers. “I just love seeing all those poor bitches with designer imposters. Their fake Louis Vuittons.”

Liz rolled her eyes as they continued to walk down the hall, side by side. It was times like this that made her wish she wasn’t friends with Tess. Their friendship was a toxic one anyway, so she didn’t have the faintest clue why they still maintained it.

“Yeah.” Liz echoed. She didn’t particularly care if the girls from the public school tried to pass their fakes off as real, or originals. She didn’t particularly care what label was stitched into their clothes. She just wanted to watch some hockey. It got her away from her parents at least.

“Well, I’ll come pick you up around 7.”

Liz nodded and felt relieved when they reached Tess’s class. They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.




Across town, in the public school, Max Evans, Kyle Valenti, and their best friend Michael Guerin walked down the crowded hallway side by side.

“So, you never did tell me what happened with that ice skater last night.” Kyle commented as fell back a step. He didn’t like to be in the middle. Max and Michael were tall guys, and he wasn’t so tall. It dwarfed him to stand between them. Moving past a redhead, he quickened his pace and stepped to Max’s left.

Michael raised an eye brow. “Yeah, Maxwell. You never did tell me either.” This was the first he’d heard of an ice skater.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Max said as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on Max.” Michael scolded. “Tell me the story.”

“There’s no story, Michael. A girl broke into the rink last night at the country club; I kicked her out. End of story.”

“I thought there was no story?” Kyle asked lightly from his left. He knew that there probably wasn’t any real story to what happened after he had left Max at the rink last night, but he liked busting Max’s chops every now and then.

“So when’s the wedding?” Michael asked as he laid a hand on Max’s shoulder.

“Two months after never.” Max replied, shrugging off Michael’s hand. “She was a total bitch.”

“But you got a piece, right?” Michael asked.

Out of no where, a chipper voice belonging to a chipper blonde startled all three boys as she sidled up next to Michael and wrapped an arm around his waste. “A piece of what?”

“Pie.” Michael answered quickly, trying to cover. “Max’s mom made pie last night.”

“Oh did you get a piece?” She asked, craning her neck around Michael to look at Max. “Your mom makes the best pie.”

Max looked back and forth between Kyle and Michael, knowing they were going to ride this pie metaphor out. And his mom did make pie last night, and he did get a piece. She had saved it for him. “No. Isabel ate it.”

“Was it apple pie?” Maria looked at him sympathetically, knowing that apple was his favorite.

“Oh yes it was, Maria.” Kyle answered, mirth laced in his tone. “It was very warm and tasty apple pie.”

Unable to contain himself, Michael burst into laughter and Kyle quickly followed suit, leaving Max looking rather embarrassed and Maria looking confused.

[sugarplum17]

<center>Part Four</center>

The school week passed her by like a speeding freight train and before Liz Parker knew it, she was getting ready for her boyfriend’s hockey game. As she carefully applied her mascara, she thought about Sean.

Sometimes, he made her feel so . . . unimportant. Sometimes she felt more like a possession. A trophy. Handed to him by her very own parents. She felt just like Rose in Titanic and she could almost see their life together, flashing before her very eyes. It didn’t excite her. She didn’t want to run toward it. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to run away from it.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. That was absolute craziness. Sean Phillips was the most popular boy in school. His family had a monopoly on the town. His mother’s grandfather was very instrumental in the construction of The Westminister Academy. He was a cofounder, actually. They were, by all means, fine and well-bred people. But, a place deep inside her was whispering to her. Whispers of rebellion and truth. Just because they were well-bred didn’t mean that Sean was right for her. Besides, she had suspicions that he was cheating on her, and she was positive that if he wasn’t now, he eventually would.

Guys like Sean always did. Ava Monroe had once told her that Sean was exactly like her husband Andrew. Liz wondered now if that had been a warning.

“I’m here.” Tess announced as she threw the door open and waltzed into the room.

Liz forced a smile onto her face. “I guess we’re ready then?”


<center>***</center>

Walking into the Westminister Country Club’s ice rink, Liz Parker felt instantly at ease. The ice always made her feel that way, which was why she always went to it when she was feeling stressed or worried or scared, or feeling any emotion that was working her up or over. It calmed her down. All she had to do was breathe it in. Its scent was intoxicating. It smelled fresh and clean and . . . cold. Not that such a thing as cold had a scent in the first place, but Liz liked to imagine that it did. The ice just felt like home.

“There’s the girls,” Tess broke into her musing of the ice as she grabbed Liz’s forearm, “let’s go over and say hello.”

Obediently, Liz followed Tess Harding and one by one she greeted their friends. As the girls engaged in mindless chatter about the poor public school girls, Liz relaxed into her seat next to Tess and studied each of her friends.

Jackie Harris was there to watch her boyfriend, Bill Cunningham. Her large brown eyes darted toward the locker room every now and then, waiting to catch a glimpse of him. It was almost sickening.

Angela Moore had beautiful, long red hair that she was forever stroking with her perfectly manicured fingers. She was there to watch Chuck Sales. They’d been going out for as long as Liz could remember. She couldn’t ever remember an Angela Moore who hadn’t been dating a Chuck Sales. The two were practically inseparable. Except on hockey nights.

Next, Liz turned her large doe eyes onto Jessica Loy. She was known for her pouty lips. As Liz stared at them, she wondered if they were the reason Jason Gilmore liked her in the first place. Liz knew what the guys said about Jessie’s Angelina Jolie-like lips. Regardless of that, Jessie was a decent person, and Liz liked her for that.

And then there was Tess. Liz studied the profile of the petite blonde with curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Tess came to each and every hockey game. She practically insisted on going. Yet, Tess had no boyfriend. It made Liz go, hmm. What was she up to? Who did she come to watch? Bill Cunningham? They’d dated long before Jackie Harris had gotten her claws into him, and there was always an unspoken rivalry between the two girls. Somehow, Liz didn’t think Tess was there to watch Bill Cunningham, though.

“Oh, there’s Sean.” Tess said as she grabbed Liz’s arm and smiled brightly at her. “He’s waving to you, Liz.”

Liz shifted her gaze to the rink and indeed found Sean Phillips staring up at her, waving his hand as he stretched out. She smiled at him and returned the wave.

“That’s so sweet,” Angela said from beside Jessie. “I wish that Chuck would wave to me like that once in a while. You know? It’s nice that Sean pays attention to you.”

Liz wanted to laugh. Angela Moore didn’t know the half of it. Instead of laughing, she lied. “Yeah, he’s a pretty sweet guy.”

She forced herself to smile dreamily at him as he blew her a kiss before returning to stretching and warming up, with his team.

“Oh, ladies . . . ” Angela said disdainfully as she stared past them to the next row of bleachers. “Look at her. That one thinks she’s hot shit.”

Liz wasn’t about to deny it as she cast her eyes on a tall blonde. There was something about the way that the leggy blonde carried herself that implied a diva attitude. Still, she was very beautiful. Like an Elle McPherson.

“Yeah,” Tess agreed. “She definitely thinks her shit doesn’t stink.”

“She looks like a model.” Liz commented, uninterested in taking part in shitting on a person she didn’t even know.

“Liz, she may be tall enough to be a model, but she is way too chunky.” Angela pointed to the girl’s face. “Look at those cheeks!”

“I’ve never seen her around.” Jessica replied. “She’s never worked with me on anything. So, unless she does plus size, she definitely isn’t a model.”

Liz rolled her eyes at the insinuation that the blonde was fat.

“Look at her tacky pleather jacket!” Jackie’s tone was filled with mirth as she proceeded to rip what the girl was wearing to shreds. The four of them reminded her of the two spoiled step sisters in Cinderella. This stranger they were ragging on, being Cinderella herself.

“Check out her cheap sweater.” Tess laughed. “It’s like, a really bad angora fake!”

“It probably came from Walmart.”

“Well, look at that.” Liz said pointing toward the center of the ice where Sean was currently facing off for the puck with a member of the opposing team. “The game is starting.”

Ignoring the girls that sat beside her, Liz leaned her elbows on her knees as she intently watched the face off play out. Sean was being very aggressive toward number 16. But 16 was being just as aggressive with Sean, checking him left and right, stealing the puck away from him. It was fairly exciting to see someone work the great Sean Phillips like that.

She was impressed with 16's footwork on the ice. Although he moved with speed, aggression, and tons of power, there was a certain gracefulness to his glide. In short, he completely captivated her. No matter that he was pushing her boyfriend against the wall and holding him there. No matter that this guy was from a public school and was seriously spanking her high school’s team, he was all she could watch.

She was fascinated by him.

[sugarplum17]

Considering how long you guys have waited for this part, it seems kind of unfair that it's such a shortie. I apologize.

<center>Part Five</center>


Liz waited for Sean by the locker room door as she made idle chit chat with her friends. She was actually relishing it, hoping that it would last all night. Sean was bound to be in a pissy mood. There was no doubt about it. Not only had the team lost to the public school, which was enough humiliation in itself, but Sean had been seriously worked over on the ice by someone much who had been much faster, had more power, and most important, who had less money than him. That was not going to sit well with her boyfriend.

She leaned up against the wall and stared at the opposing team’s closed locker room door. As she only half-listened to the conversation her friends were immersed in, she wondered what he would look like. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining his dashing good looks. Would he be blonde? She couldn’t tell, what with his helmet being on and all. She hoped he would be brunette though. She’d always been partial to tall, dark, and handsome. Despite her boyfriend’s All-American blonde hair and blue eyes.

She shook her head to clear her mind of those thoughts. It didn’t matter anyway. First, because she was with Sean and second because she wouldn’t even be able to hazzard a guess as to which guy walking out of the locker room would be her mysterious number sixteen. It wasn’t like they came out dressed in full uniform or shouting their numbers. Instead of focusing on her mystery player, Liz Parker forced herself to pay attention to the conversation and then rolled her eyes as she finally figured out who they were talking about.

Not too far away from them, the leggy blonde stood waiting in her leather jacket the girls had called tacky pleather. She talked idly with a boy beside her, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket. Liz wondered who they were waiting for.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Her mouth dropped as the boy who had caught her skating on the country club’s ice rink after hours emerged from the locker room. They stared at each other for a moment before she watched him walk over to the Elle McPherson and wrap his arms around her back.

“Do you know him?” Tess asked with interest as Liz watched the tall raven-haired guy hug the tacky blonde they had been discussing.

She seemed to shake herself out of it then. Shaking her head and tossing a look of disdain toward him. “No.”

As the rest of his team filed out of the locker room, Liz searched for her mysterious number 16. Her eyes scanned their equipment as she hoped to recognize them from their hockey sticks or maybe a helmet. She was unsuccessful. She saw no one on that team who could possibly have the gracefulness that 16 possessed, although she knew he had to be someone from that team, she couldn’t quite put her finger on who.

“Hey honey!” Angela’s shrill voice brought her attention to what was happening beside her. Chuck had just exited the locker room, as had most of her friend’s boyfriends. “You played a great game, babe.”

“Thanks,” Chuck muttered, clearly upset. He obviously realized that Angela was trying to be supportive.

“Let’s go.” A familiar voice to her left, startled her.

“Sean! You scared me,” She said, her fingers splayed out on her chest. She wanted to tell him that he had played a great game, despite losing it, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. He hadn’t played a good game. He’d been worked over by a guy from the other team. She couldn’t think of what to say to him. So, instead she asked, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” He said as he eyed the guy from the country club. She wondered if he was staring at this guy for any certain reason? “Public school reject.”

“Sean,” She hissed, “Stop it.”

“You played a great game, Sean.” Tess complimented as she sidled up next to him.

“Tess,” He made it seem as though Tess Harding were the last person he wanted to talk to. “I don’t know if you were watching the same game I was playing, but we lost. Incase you missed it those public school losers beat us.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t man that you didn’t play a good game.” She argued.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Tess, were you even paying attention to the game? I got worked over. Some public school dick was on my ass the entire night.”

Liz followed her boyfriend’s gaze to where the country club worker stood, still talking with the blonde and the boy with the hair. He no longer had his arm around the blonde. Instead, they stood side by side. Certainly, Sean wasn’t implying that he was her graceful and captivating number 16, was he?

No way.

She followed Sean and Tess, deep in thought as they fought over her unneeded support. Vaguely, she heard him say that giving support was Liz’s job, not hers. She couldn’t argue with that. Then again, she wasn’t going to get into the argument at all. Sean and Tess were like oil and water. They couldn’t get along to save their lives. They were always arguing about something.

Instead, she ignored them and contemplated who 16 could be.

[sugarplum17]

To Abby, because this part is longer than the last part. Somewhat...

<center>Part Six</center>

“So, why was that girl staring at us?” Isabel asked on the ride home.

Max shrugged his shoulders. He was reluctant to tell his sister anything at all about the ice skater, especially with Michael in the car. Instead, he pretended as though he didn’t have a clue.

“Come on, Maxwell.” He urged his friend to talk from the back seat of the jeep. “Tells us who she was.”

Max glanced over at his sister. Her curious stare told him she wasn’t going to stop until she had an answer. Isabel could be very persistent and very persuasive when she wanted to be. He sighed. “She’s just some random rich bitch I had a run-in with at the Country Club one night.”

“The ice skater?” Michael leaned forward between the seats, clearly interested in the conversation now. At least, even more so than he had been before.

“Ice skater?” He had Isabel looking back and forth between them. Looking for the first person who would answer the questions she posed. “What ice skater?”

“Max met this ice skater after the rink was closed one night a while back and they had hot monkey sex all over the ice.”

Max almost wanted to laugh at the look on his sister’s face. It not only pained but horrified as well.

“What?!” She shrieked. “That is so gross!”

In the back, Michael was in hysterics as Max demanded from the driver’s seat, “We did NOT have monkey sex! We had an altercation.”

“You got in a fight with her?” Isabel sounded worried. “I hope she doesn’t press charges. That’s the last thing mom and dad need right now. God, Max, how could you?”

Max was shocked. “I didn’t hit her, Isabel!” He leaned forward in a defensive position as he looked sideways at his sister. “God, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

“Oh.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the dash board in front of her. “I’m sorry. Just, when you said ‘altercation’ I thought-”

“Yeah, I know what you thought.” Max said dryly as he relaxed into his seat. “I meant we had words with each other. We had a disagreement.”

“Miss Priss thought she owned the place, from what I heard.” Michael interjected from the back, uninterested in the conversation now that they weren’t talking about monkey sex or fighting. “Threatened to have Max fired.”

Isabel paled. “But, you need that job.”

Max glared at him through the rearview mirror. He was suddenly very upset with Michael for bringing up topics that would upset Isabel. He sighed. His parents were in financial trouble ever since his dad had been fired from a high paying job. They’d been living comfortably and had suffered greatly when his income was dramatically reduced. To help out, Max had been working two part-time jobs. Everyone was pulling their weight around the house, Isabel included.

“There are other jobs, Iz.” He told her, using the exact words his father had used when he had broke the news. “If some girl wants to get me fired, they can fire me. There’s always a job somewhere else.”

“But Max,”

“It’s minimum wage, anyway, Izzy.” Michael said softly, using the nick name from when they were kids, from the backseat as he reached up to squeeze her shoulder.

A few moments of awkward silence befell the jeep as Max and his sister thought about their parents’ financial situation. They were definitely not happy with it.

“Man,” Michael’s deep voice broke the silence, startling Isabel. “You really let Phillips have it tonight, Max.”

Isabel smiled, remembering just how badly he’d worked Sean Phillips and how much she’d wanted to kick him in his balls when he’d muttered those low-breathed insults afterward.

“Yeah,” She smiled as she perked up in her seat. “I can’t wait to tell dad. He’ll be so proud.”

Max smiled. He knew his father wouldn’t be proud. He hadn’t been raised that way and Max, himself, felt a little ashamed at how he had acted on the ice tonight. How hard he had gone after Sean Phillips for things that were out of the preppy, rich boy’s hands. His father would think him unfair. His dad would probably tell him so later on, too.

Still, it had felt so good slamming Phillips into the glass. It had felt even better afterward, knowing that his girlfriend had been there to see the whole thing. The mighty Sean Phillips, beat by a public school lowlife. He wondered how she could look at him with respect again.

Then again, if she knew his reasons for pounding her boyfriend into the glass as many times as he did, he would wonder how she could ever look at him with respect. Not that she ever did to begin with. He was just glad he hadn’t known she was dating Sean Phillips before the game. He didn’t quite know her name, although he knew her last name was Parker, but he knew he would have been all over her boyfriend if he had known then what he knew now. It would have been unfair. He would have been a poor sport. But, it would have felt damn good. Max was sure of it.

[sugarplum17]

I apologize for taking such a long time.


<center>***
Part Seven</center>


He was thankful for his peripheral vision as he watched the ice while he swept the floor. If he had one good quality about him, aside from being a good hockey player, it was his peripheral vision. It afforded him a view of all the people skating on the ice and most importantly, of her. He still didn’t know her first name and he still didn’t quite know why her skating captivated him, but Parker suited her just fine for now and the rest he would ignore. He didn’t care to think of the implications. He didn’t care to think about having a real live, honest to goodness crush on the rich bitch ice skater.

He glanced at the ice a couple of times, as if surveying how many people were on it. Really, he was watching her skate with her friends. A simple, ordinary act that shouldn’t have been as interesting to him as it really was. He studied them for several minutes, noting the blonde. He named her Curly. They skated side by side, the two of them, as if they were best friends but he noticed something in Curly’s demeanor. She never fell behind, like the other girls did. If Parker sped up, she went just a hair faster; was just a hair infront of her. As if there was some race they were participating in and she was the only one who knew about it.

She wasn’t just trying to keep up; she was trying to stay one step ahead. Max found that interesting. Poisonous, but interesting. He returned to his broom.

“Psst.” He narrowed his eyes, his ministrations on the dirt floor halted momentarily. For a moment, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. “Hey rink boy,” He was apparently wrong. He turned his head to see Parker leaning over the wall between them. It was devoid of Plexiglas, leaving nothing but a thick piece of stomach-level plastic and space between them. “I have a favor to ask you.”

He returned his attention to the floor. “Why should I do you, the bitch who’s gonna get me fired, a favor?” He queried.

“I still can.” She smirked. “Just say the words, rink boy, and you’re out on your ass.”

“Right.” He pushed his broom and began walking away from her. “That’s really going to get me to help you out. Threaten to fire me. You’re a real people person, ya know?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself off of the wall, skating along side it to keep up with him. “It’s just one tiny, little itty bitty favor.”

“What would that be?” He asked dryly. “World peace? A new pair of Jimmy Choo’s?”

“Okay, how the hell do you even know who Jimmy Choo is?” Her curiosity was definitely piqued now. “What are you? Gay?”

“Just cut to the chase, Parker.” A pink flush graced his cheeks and Liz found herself admiring it.

“Um, there’s this guy,” Was it just him or did she sound a tad bit nervous? Why was he hoping that this conversation was going to end in an entirely different way than what it really was? “He’s on your hockey team.”

“Yeah?” He prompted. “Lots of those.”

She rolled her eyes at him again. “All I want is a name.”

“What for?” He narrowed his beautiful hazel eyes at her, obviously suspicious. “Because if you think I’m gonna give out a friend’s name just so your boyfriend and his friends can-”

“It’s not for Sean.” She interrupted quickly. “It’s for…a friend. Of mine. A girl.”

His eyes flickered toward the rink. “Which girl?” He was still suspicious.

“That one.” She pointed toward Curly. “She likes a guy on your team.”

He studied Curly once more. Her piercing blue eyes, her soft curly hair. Most girls with those kind of curls would have frizz and lots of it. That much Max knew from having a sister who had some frizzy-haired friends. But Curly over there had the best frizz-taming shit that money could buy. As well as clothes, skates, makeup, and probably cars.

He turned his attention back to Parker. “There’s no way a girl like that is going to fess up to liking a guy like me.”

“I didn’t say it was you.” Liz argued. “So don’t be conceited.”

“I wasn’t talking about me, per say.” He shrugged and looked toward the ceiling. “The bottom line is, she’s rich and has everything that money can buy. The guys on my team are just like me.”

“And that is?”

“Dirt poor.”

“What does that have to do with a girl liking a boy?” She asked almost incredulously. Some people didn’t think about everything in terms of what you had and what you didn’t.

He sighed, returning his attention to the dirty floor beneath him. If he didn’t get it swept, his boss would dock his pay. “Everything. Especially to people like her.”

“You don’t even know her.” She began skating along side him again. “And all I want is his name. Number 16. What’s the harm in giving me a name?”

He slowed down, but not by much. He was so not interested. He said the first name that popped into his head. “Kyle. Kyle Valenti is number sixteen.”

She smiled broadly at him as she pushed herself away from the wall, her white teeth shining under the gleam of the lights above. He swore he saw a sparkle somewhere in her mouth. “Thanks rink boy.”

“It’s Max.” He corrected as he watched her skate back toward her friends. “And you’re welcome.”

He would have to remember to tell Kyle that there was some blonde rich chick lusting after him now. Kyle would be thankful. Especially if he got to nail her. He always was a breast man and from what Max could tell Curly was working with a nice rack. It wasn’t necessarily his thing, but Kyle would like it.

[sugarplum17]

Kind of a shorty, sorry.

<center>Part Eight</center>

“What the fuck?”

Startled, Liz stood up from her crouched position to find Sean Phillips glaring at her. He was looking extremely pissed off at her today and she was clueless as to why.

“Pardon me?” She asked carefully as she dropped her chemistry book into her stylish designer messenger bag.

“I heard you’ve been flirting with some fucking…loser!” The volume of his voice increased with every word until the last was practically shouted. Causing nearby students to turn and look at them. “Some cock who works at the country club in the ice rink?” He grimaced. Flames were practically shooting from his blue eyes. “Are you screwing around on me, Liz? With the fucking help no less?”

She glanced around, wondering what she should say. She wasn’t entirely surprised to be asked that question, to be confronted publicly like she was. Sean was forever accusing her of cheating. Probably because he was, she surmised.

She tilted her head as she stared at him and wondered what would happen if she lied. What would happen to her picturesque life? What would become of the perfect little, cookie-cutter life that her parents had planned out for her? Did she dare mess with their perfection and ruin their perfect match?

He grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to him. “Answer me.”

She wanted to. She wanted to end the charade that was their relationship. Did he think she was stupid? That she didn’t hear the rumors? Did he really think that she was deaf to the stories whispered behind her back?

“No, Sean.” She pulled her arm from his grasp. “I’m not cheating on you. Who would even tell you such a ridiculous story? And why would you be inclined to believe it?”

“My source has seen you, Liz.” He pointed a finger in her face. His fingers were dry and chapped. “On several different occasions.”

“Seen me doing what exactly?” She asked distractedly as she mentally listed the possible suspects. “And who is your stupid source, Sean? This is really grade school.”

“Never mind who my source is. I want answers.” Some of his saliva hit her in the face. “They’ve seen you staring at him. They’ve seen you talking to him and being flirtatious with him. And if you’re flirting with him, you’re fucking him.”

“If that’s a true statement that means you’re fucking my mother.” She shot back, crossing her arms over her chest and staring hard at him.

They were forever flirting. Sometimes, Liz just thought that her mother should leave her father and start up a fling with her boyfriend. But then again,

“That’s a crock of shit. Don’t try to turn this around on me.”

“I’m not trying to turn anything around.” The bell rang and Liz stepped closer to him. “Look, this is bullshit and I’m going to pretend it never happened. I suggest you do the same.”

She kissed him lightly on the cheek before backing away from him. “Don’t listen to ignorant rumors started by ignorant people.” She scanned the crowd, which had started to dissipate since the ringing of the bell, looking for a face in the crowd. A scorned face, in particular. Whoever started the rumor was sure to be watching the fallout. “See you at dinner.”

With that said, she turned and walked toward her class leaving Sean standing by her locker, staring at her retreating form.

[sugarplum17]

This is really short and I'm so sorry. I totally feel like I'm jipping you guys after all that you put up with from me just to read this story. Which is why I'm totally going to make it up to you guys sometime very soon. Not next week though because I'm going on vacation.

<center>Part Nine</center>

After enduring all the whispers and stares she had received this afternoon at school, after her very public fight with Sean, Liz was finally home. She wanted to be relieved by this, but for some reason she wasn’t.

“Good afternoon, Miss Elizabeth.” A voice said from behind. She turned and noticed Perkins, the butler. Yes, that’s right. Her family had a butler.

She glanced at his outstretched hand and shrugged out of her trendy messenger bag, placing the strap in his hand. “Hello Perkins.”

“How was your day miss?” He asked. She cocked her head to the side and found it interesting that Perkins, unlike her mother or her father, was actually interested in her how her afternoon went. He’d always been. His question had always been sincere.

“Fantastic.” She answered sarcastically. “Is my mother home?”

“Yes, miss.”

She nodded and headed toward the stairs all the while thinking about Perkins’ accent. It was an odd thing to think about, but as a child, his accent had amused her a great deal. She would follow him around all day so that she might be able to hear it. Now, it seemed as though she barely noticed it. Much less appreciated it.

Once inside her room, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Only then did her muscles relax and the tension she’d been holding inside of her body drained out of her. Her bedroom was her solace. The pale, powder blue of the walls and the white carpet beneath her feet made her think of ice, which always managed to calm her down.

“God,” She exhaled as she pushed herself off of the door and stumbled over to her bed, throwing herself on it face first. “Today was the worst day of my life!” She shouted into her comforter.

“Pardon me?” Liz jumped. Her mother’s voice startled her.

“Nothing.” She answered as she rolled over and pulled herself into a sitting position. Quickly, she curled her feet underneath her as she stared at her mother. Tension was starting to creep back into her muscles again.

Nancy seemed to dismiss her daughter’s shout and busied herself with straightening and touching all of the medals that meant so much to her and were so insignificant to Liz. “We’re having dinner with Sean and his parents at the club.” Over her shoulder, she pinned her daughter with an icy stare. “I trust you won’t be dining on the floor this time?”

“No, mother.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she cast them to her jeans where she picked at the hem on the side of her leg.

“Wonderful.” Nancy clasped her hands together as she turned her head away from her daughter and back to her daughter’s medals. “We’re dining at 6:30. Please do be ready before then, you know how it upsets me when we are late.”

To Liz that translated to ‘you know how upset I get when <i>you</i> make us late.’ She decided not to focus on it. “Will daddy joining us?” She asked as her mother headed for her bedroom door.

“Yes, your father will be meeting us there. He’s working late.” With that, Nancy left the room. Closing the door quietly behind her as every wealthy girl had been taught.

Liz sighed as she fell back on the bed. “Again.”


****

At six-thirty on the dot, Liz and her mother allowed a hostess to seat them at their table with the Philips. Sean and his parents had been early, a fact that her mother was surely going to obsess about on the ride home. She hated when other people were early because it made her feel as though she were late to the party. Her father showed up at six-thirty-five. Something that Nancy would later, in the privacy of their own home or car, ream his ass for.

As she sat down next to Sean, Liz cast a sideways glance in his direction. He obviously wasn’t speaking to her, which was fine. She would much rather enjoy her dinner in peace than with his tongue in her ear or laving at her neck in that wet dog kind of way that he had–and in front of their parents no less.

She greeted his parents instead and after meaningless small talk that was always the same, they stopped speaking to her and went about their business of talking about the other women members of the club, designer shopping sprees, and for the men socks and business.

She felt just like Rose in the movie Titanic. She wanted to get up and run to her Jack. Only problem was, she didn’t know what he looked like. All she had was a name; Kyle Valenti. Even with Sean sitting beside her, she found herself imagining his features. Would he be tall, dark, and handsome with beautiful brown eyes? That was more her type. Despite the blonde haired, blue-eyed boyfriend that sat next to her.

“Excuse me, everyone.” Sean said loudly as he rose from his chair. His smile charmed his mother into flashing him one of her own before she went back to talking about Daphney Chambers and the absolutely horrid dinner party that she had thrown last weekend.

As she watched him move farther and farther away from their table, to the bathrooms she assumed, she thought of how it used to be. Back when they still liked each other and weren’t going through the motions for their parents’ benefit. She was sure that they had loved each other once, a very long time ago . . . when they were five and he had asked her to be his girlfriend. Back then it was just about holding hands and catching frogs. She hadn’t been aware that Sean would later turn into one. Back then, they’d been innocent and hadn’t known that they were practically promised to each other at birth.

After all, the merger would be an excellent business move.