I'm sitting on Owen's bed, in the room I shared with him for ten months last year.

Dean's sprawled out next to me, with his head on Owen's pillow and his feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. Owen sits in front of us on the office chair by his desk, which is placed against the wall beneath the window between the two beds. Our hockey bags are thrown on the floor, near the door.

The second bed in the room belongs to Owen's sister, Olivia. After the Holmeses became my foster family for the last school year, Olivia slept on the living room couch so I could take her bed. You'd think any teenage girl who'd already been forced to share her bedroom with her brother all her life would have a lifetime of complaining to do after being exiled to the living room, but Olie was cool.

She usually spent most of her time with us, either in the bedroom or in the living room. On the weekends, if Owen and I left for early-morning practices, she would grab her pillow and move to her brother's bed to sleep in. Whenever Dean came over, she would sometimes hang out with us for a while and then go off to do her thing.

Despite their closeness in age, Owen and Olivia always had different social circles — as different as a small town like Brunson allows. Until last summer, she was only Owen's chill, spirited sister who I sometimes had short interactions with. But after I moved in, we ended up growing closer. 

She is only a year younger than us, but she felt much more mature. It was during not-so-rare moments after Owen fell asleep, when she and I would stay up talking, that I realized she shares her brother's listening skills and practical look at life, with a touch of refreshing optimism to set them apart. For some reason, noticing these similarities between brother and sister — but also, maybe even more importantly, the differences — made it easier to talk to her during a time when I found it hard to talk to anyone at all.

"Connor's a lot better this year," Dean muses aloud, continuing the conversation we started on the ice, during our independent Sunday morning practice.

"He put on a lot of muscle over the summer," I mutter as way of agreement. It's weak and kind of lame as a response, but I don't have the energy for more. 

I woke up this morning with a now-familiar feeling of exhaustion despite a long night of sleep. Owen's dad drove the three of us to the rink before heading out to a job out of town. The lethargic feeling dissipated as soon as I slid my skates on. However, the temporary charge of energy faded the moment I left the ice, and I was tired again by the time we got back.

Owen nods thoughtfully, offering up a bit more of insight. "He's clearly been practicing. With James, probably, because he's actually almost as good as Coleman this year."

Trey Coleman was already one of the best offensive players we had last year, along with Owen and a couple of seniors. When Anderson and Linden, our legendary wingers, graduated, Owen was worried the team's offensive would take a serious hit. Dean and I heard about it all summer long. James Lowell had shown impressive progress from skinny freshman to decent junior, but he didn't look like he could ever live up to Anderson's legacy as right winger.

Turns out, for once, Owen's worries ended up being unfounded. And for once, even Owen was happy to be wrong.

The bedroom door opens unannounced and Olivia comes in, with her thick dark curls slicked down with the weight of water on them. She smiles at the three of us, but her eyes only sweep over her brother and Dean's figures for half a second before they fix on me.

"Hey, boys. Had a nice practice?"

"It was good. The rink was empty," Dean answers lazily, without sitting up or moving his eyes away from the ceiling. 

"Are you planning to do anything today, or are you just going to sit around all day?"

"Eli has work. We're heading to The Lodge soon," Owen says.

Olivia flashes me a teasing smile. "Are they your new private cheer squad? That's cute."

I force the corners of my lips up in the semblance of a smile. "Yeah, they sit in a corner cheering every time I don't drop a dish."

Olivia laughs. "Sounds fun. Can I join?"

"You probably have better things to do," I say.

She hums pensively, taking a seat by my side, forcing me to shift up the bed until my knees touch Dean's. "True," she finally says with a smile.

"We're not going to sit and stare at him. We're studying," Owen says moodily from his chair. One brief glance his way is all I need to notice the frown. Then again, Owen isn't one to hide his frowns. More the 'act like he isn't smiling at a joke he found funny' type. At least when there are other people around.

"I'm still not really on board with the studying thing," Dean chimes in, still staring at the ceiling.

Taking into account the state of his grades, he should be more than on board. He should probably be jumping in excitement at the chance of studying with Owen. In order to play hockey, we don't need to excel academically, but we do need to pass our classes.

Olivia turns her big, brown eyes back on me. "Do they let you work with these?" She asks, hand reaching for my beanie, too quickly for me to stop her.

"No, I leave it in my locker with my phone," I reply, extending my hand to ask for the beanie back. I hate it when people try to take those away from me. Mostly because I can't stand it when people touch my hair. My mom used to do that to lull me to sleep when I was little, but that was different.

Olivia ignores my hand, inspecting the brownish-red color of the wool curiously. "I like the grey one better," she tells me airily.

I arch my eyebrows. "You mean the one you gave me?"

It was kind of a surprise. My birthday's in September and she bought me a beanie, because she knew how much I liked this one and she thought the new color would look good on me. It was a really nice, thoughtful gesture and it made me feel like a jerk, because her birthday was in August and I didn't get her anything. 

Owen and I don't usually give each other birthday gifts. Same thing with Dean. It just wouldn't make sense for us to act like we have that kind of money. I had no way of knowing Olie wanted to give me something. I tried to make it up by offering her a 'skating lesson', during one of the rink's free slots. Which is basically a hockey player's version of the 'free hug voucher' cop out. She seemed to enjoy it, though.

"Exactly that one. I have exquisite taste." She grins, showing me the hand holding my maroon beanie. "This one looks worn out. You should let it retire. Also, the grey one brings out the specks of grey in your eyes."

I take my hat back, pulling it over my head. "I like this one," I murmur, adjusting it carefully over my hair. 

"When you're done looking at the specks of grey in his eyes," Owen snaps suddenly, "we need to get ready to leave."

Olivia cocks an eyebrow at her brother's tone. "You can't do that with me here?"

"Dean needs to change," he shoots back.

His sister sighs impatiently, but she doesn't protest. "It's my room too," she mumbles as she stands up to leave, closing the door on her way out.

The fire of Owen's intense glare burns into me as soon as the door clicks shut. I turn to meet his stare and wait for his anger to rain on me. When he doesn't immediately spit it out, it's my turn to snap, annoyed by his annoyance.

"What?"

"You know what."

I roll my eyes, looking at Dean, who's still staring at the ceiling, looking spacey.

"Are you going to change or not?"

He seems surprised by my snippy tone, but he springs up onto his feet without a word. 

Dean slipped on the cold floor on our way here from the Arenas and landed with his knees on the muddy snow on the side of the road. Owen told him he could borrow a clean pair of jeans before we headed for The Lodge. That is, after he was done laughing himself into a near-coma. To be fair, Dean's fall was epic. Even I cracked a smile.

We offer up our goodbyes to Olivia and Mrs Holmes on our way out. The freezing cold of the October air  pierces through the inlets in my jacket and I hug it closer to my body, not at all happy about the long walk east ahead.

"Isn't it illegal to work on Sundays, or something?" Dean whines.

I snort. "I wish."

***

I know part one is short, which is why part two will be out tomorrow :)

But I'm curious... What did you think of Olivia and her history with Eli? Do you see her as a drama-starter or a comfort-bringer in this story? 

Thank you for reading, and please consider voting and commenting!