Breaking the Ice

Chapter Ten: Dreams and Reality

Marcus's POV

Anna sat at the long table in the corner of the community library, her textbooks and notes spread out before her. The afternoon light filtered in through the large windows, casting a soft glow on the stacks of books that lined the walls. She had settled into the silence of the library, the kind that was perfect for focusing on her art history.

"Jesus, if anyone saw me they'd think I was a stalker," I said under my breath as I silently watched Anna's soft smile that pulled across her face as she leafed through one of the thick art texts in front of her.

The sound of pages turning and the distant murmur of a few other patrons were the only interruptions as Anna read over her notes. But as her pen moved to underline a key point in her textbook, her hand stilled and her head snapped up. A strange prickling sensation ran up my spine, as my fight or flight instinct kicked in. Her eyes scanned the room briefly before she bent her head back to her text. Before my brain could process what my body was doing, I was suddenly closing the distance between us and standing at her table.

"Hey, Anna." I whispered.

Anna’s head snapped up again, and her mouth formed a cute 'O' as she reacted to my sudden appearance.

"Marcus!" she exclaimed, a little too loudly, as she jolted in her seat, knocking over a stack of books. She quickly steadied them, cheeks flushing as she tried to regain her composure. Of all the places I could have chosen to show up, of all the places I’d hoped to run into her, this was the last one. My thoughts spun with a mix of confusion and awkwardness, but I didn’t want to seem rude. She smiled, as she motioned for me to take the chair across from her.

"Sorry," I said, trying to play off my small victory of playing it casual. "I didn’t mean to startle you."

Anna shook her head, letting out a small chuckle. "It’s okay, just—didn’t expect you here."

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms behind my head. I had no idea why the heck I was acting like we were meeting up at the beach but my body refused to cooperate with my train of thought at the moment. Attempting again to ride off the casual appeal, I turned my attention to what she had in front of her.

"So, what are you working on?" I asked, my gaze flicking down at the open book in front of her. I didn’t wait for her to respond before continuing. "Let me guess, another one of your art projects?"

Anna blinked rapidly in confusion. Ah crap! You're not supposed to know that dummy! Are you trying to scare her off?

I cleared my throat and smiled while pointing to her yellow sketchbook on the table beside her. "I see you with that at some of the games."

She smiled, visibly relaxing a little. "Uh-huh. I'm actually working on an art history paper," she replied. "On Impressionism and its influence on modern art."

"Impressionism, huh?" I grinned, my brain suddenly feeling as though it was folding in on itself. "Sounds… interesting."

Anna laughed softly, glancing at my face while a perfect slender eyebrow raised over her right eye. "You might not be into it, but I love it. You know, seeing how artists like Monet or Van Gogh changed the way people view light and color—it’s fascinating."

"I’ll take your word for it," I said, as a thought suddenly struck me. "Not really my thing, but my mom loved that sort of stuff. She painted, collected, visited galleries. That sort of stuff."

A brief silence settled between us, and Anna suddenly looked as though she didn't know how to respond to that. She tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear before our gazed connected again.

"I, umm, I know your mom passed away. My parents told me about it when I was younger."

I shifted in my seat a bit as I blinked back the moisture that suddenly dotted my eyesight. The topic of my mother was never something I spoke about casually with anybody.

"So, I started, leaning forward slightly, my elbows on the table, tyring to change the subject. "I'm guessing that's your major? Liberal Art?" Anna's eyes softened as if curious but she didn't push the topic of my mother further.

Instead, she nodded. "I’m majoring in Fine Arts with a concentration in Art History. It’s been my dream for as long as I can remember. I’m really passionate about it." She smiled, her features glowing with animated joy. Talking about art made her feel happy, as though the subject was something she was proud to be apart of.

I gave a thoughtful nod, but there was something about the way her eyes shifted, like she was about to broach something he wasn't quite prepared to answer.

"What about you?" she asked. "What’s your major?"

For a moment, I hesitated, my fingers tapping absentmindedly on the edge of the table. "Business," I said, as if the word tasted foreign in my mouth. "I’m majoring in Business. It’s what my dad wants me to do."

Anna raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Your dad?" she repeated, surprised. "I didn’t know you were into business."

I let out a low chuckle, leaning back again, my brain slowly unraveling. "Yeah, well, I’m not really. It’s just… I mean, it’s the family thing, you know? My dad runs this big business connected to hockey. The whole family’s involved, and he expects me to take over when I graduate." I shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "It’s just easier if I do what he says. Keeps the peace."

Anna listened carefully, her curiosity piqued. "So, you’re not into business at all?"

My lips quirked upward slightly, but chest swelled a bit with the warmth of something deeper. "Not really, no. I mean, I’ve always been more interested in sports medicine, honestly. I want to study that, but…" I trailed off, my voice growing quieter.

"Wait—sports medicine?" Anna’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. "That’s incredible! You’d be great at it! Helping athletes recover, working with teams—why not go for that?" Her voice was enthusiastic, and I couldn’t help but admire how Anna seemed to have such a deep passion for something I expressed about myself.

I sighed, shaking my head. "I can’t. My dad would freak. I can’t disappoint him like that. Business is what he knows, what he’s built. He’s got all these big plans for me, and I don’t want to let him down." I ran a hand through my hair, feeling frustrated. "I mean, it’s just easier this way. I’ll graduate, take over the business, and everyone will be happy. Sports medicine is just a pipe dream."

"But Marcus," Anna said softly, her voice steady, "you can’t just give up on your dreams like that. You’re so passionate about sports medicine—why let it go? I mean, I can’t imagine being stuck in something that makes you unhappy just to please someone else." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "You deserve to do what you love. If you don’t go for it now, when will you? And who knows? Maybe your dad will understand eventually, even if it takes a little time."

My gaze flickered over her face, my eyes searching, but there was no change in her expression. She was serious. Dead serious and so genuine about what she was saying to me.

"Maybe, but I just don’t think I can take that risk. I mean, the business is the only thing I’ve known. It’s what’s expected. I can’t just walk away from that."

Anna let out a resigned sigh and didn't push the argument further. "Maybe not now," she said quietly, "but you don’t have to keep living for someone else’s vision forever. You get to decide what makes you happy, Marcus."

There was a long pause as I studied her. For a moment, Anna looked as though she was waiting for me to say something, anything, that would show I was reconsidering—maybe just a hint of doubt, a spark of hope.

But instead, I simply shook my head, my smirk returning. "Yeah, well, maybe. But for now, it’s business for me. Let’s just leave it at that, alright?"

Anna nodded, though her eyes told a different story. "Alright," she said with a soft smile, "but if you ever want to talk more about sports medicine, I’m here."

I chuckled, pushing my chair back as I stood up. "Thanks, Anna. I’ll keep that in mind. See you around."

I felt her eyes burning into my back as I walked away, feeling a strange mix of relief and shame. I was still trapped in the life that had been carved out for me, but maybe, just maybe, I’d find his way out one day.