Page 1 of My Rival for Christmas

impossible promises

NATE

December

“Promise not to fall in love with me.”

Normally, I’m a man of many words. It’s very rare to find myself at a loss, if ever.

My mom, before she walked out on me and my dad, used to say I had the gift of gab—never meeting a word I didn’t like. I’d talk and talk and talk, and she’d never know if I was ever going to shut up.

Yet a single sentence made up of eight words to form one pithy request has sucked up my lexicon faster than water spilled in the desert.

From a girl I’ve never been able to say no to.

Promise not to fall in love with me.

I stare up at Paige. Her long russet hair slips between her fingers as she gathers it into her usual high pony. Her delicate features, the soft cheekbones and auburn brows, are arranged in a serenely serious expression as she looks at me, waiting for my answer.

I’ve never seen anyone look as calm or ready for battle the moment they step onto the ice like she does.

But I’m not sure which Paige is preparing for now, or how I should read her when she looks as if she just asked me about the weather, and not something that has numbed my tongue and jump-started my heart.

It races in my chest, loud enough I swear the sound echoes around the barren rink.

“Nate?” Paige calls, leveling me with a stare I can’t look away from.

Even if I could, I wouldn’t.

Her forever shifting blue-green eyes are my favorite variation today.

Swirls of sapphires mixing with emeralds to make a shade so unique to Paige only a poet could describe it faithfully.

And I’m no poet. Just an admirer of greens and blues.

Realizing I’ve done nothing but stare at her like some mystified loser for the last several seconds, I clear my throat. The sound is rougher than intended as I croak out, “I’m sorry—did you say something?”

Maybe I misheard her over the blaring…silence.

Loud, stagnant silence.

Though the two of us have been coming to Charmed Athletic since we were kids, Paige longer than me, neither of us know how to work the rink’s speakers, so we decided to just use the music on our phones.

Music that is not playing from either device, so I can’t even act like her voice got drowned out.

The blistering silence sits heavy between us, weighed down by her words I want to forget as she repeats, “Promise you won’t fall in love with me.”

Normally, I love when it’s just the two of us on the ice, when we can really push ourselves without having to mentally keep track of other skaters, but right now I would give my left nut—it’s slightly smaller—for this place to be packed with people.

But Charmed Athletics is basically shut down for the holidays. All the sane members have already taken off now that our annual Holiday Spectacular has ended and Christmas is only a few days away. Ready to spend some time with their families, away from the grind.

Our coach, Vytas, is on his way home to Lithuania for the next two weeks, and I have a flight to catch today, too. Right after practice, I’m taking my stuff and heading straight for the airport.

But the excitement I felt this morning, at being able to skate with Paige with no one around before flying home to spend Christmas with my dad, has diminished significantly.

All thanks to one damn sentence.

Promise not to fall in love with me.

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