Page 16 of My Rival for Christmas

I just can’t wrap my head around it, even now. And maybe if I could, I’d be able to figure out why I lost another partner. Why I’ve seemed to have lost my love and passion and desire for skating altogether.

The only problem is finding out that answer involves talking to Nathan Ford himself—something I’m never apt to do these days.

Unless it’s to verbally spar with him like I did in the lobby yesterday.

Can’t deny it didn’t feel good, either. I walked away buzzing with this adrenaline that I only ever feel after I go toe to toe with him. Maybe that’s a little unhealthy, but I promise it’s not the most messed up thing about me.

It’s just the thing I focus on as I skate around the resort’s ice rink this blistering winter morning, wondering if the universe is trying to make me sort out all my problems before the year is up.

Is this what people refer to when they say they get visited by the ghosts of Christmas past? Because if so, I don’t like it and would very much like a refund on this trip down memory lane. Thank you in advance.

I don’t want to think about Nate right now. I don’t want to think about my problems.

I just want to skate before the jam-packed day of fun Kylie has scheduled for us begins. A schedule that has me very concerned with something she has labeled Dirty Dick’s.

But our day, according to Kylie, isn’t set to start until eight this morning, which is more rational than the time I carefully dragged myself out of the bed I’m sharing with my best friend—further cementing the notion that I stole a romantic holiday getaway from her—at a crisp four-thirty in the morning.

Which isn’t as bad as it sounds when you remember the three-hour time difference between the East and West coasts. So, technically, I slept in. Well, if we’re getting technical, I’d been up since four in the morning New York time, but didn’t allow myself to get out of bed until after four West coast time.

I am on vacation, after all.

Even if I seem to be doing it wrong.

But skating is a part of my daily routine. If I don’t start my day off with it, I get antsy and moody and downright unpleasant to be around. Trust me when I say no one wants to be around me when I get in one of those moods.

So here I am, gliding around a closed rink, with only my warm-up playlist, the glorious mountains, and a vibrantly lit Christmas tree keeping me company.

Jesus Christ, how many trees does a place need? We get it. It’s cold. It’s Christmas. No need to assault us with it.

Or, rather, I guess—me.

Bah humbug.

I try not to focus on the tree, or the holiday that is only a few days away, or my troubles, or a particular person lurking somewhere here in town. I only focus on my legs as they swish across the ice, carrying me around like I’m searching for purpose.

And really, I kind of am.

The only time life has ever made sense is when I’m on the ice. It’s been my solace, my savior, my lifeline ever since my brother gifted me my first pair of skates at three years old.

He played hockey and would always bring me to his practices, the moms of his teammates keeping me entertained because our own mother never bothered to show up.

Her and our dad were usually off to some international destination, leaving their two underage kids in the care of their senile, apartment-bound neighbor, who used to mistake me for her cat half the time.

So it became easier for Austin to just bring me, and the moms were always happy to have a little girl to fawn over in a sea of sweaty, smelly boys. They’d even bring me dresses and pink coats and stuffed animals to keep me entertained.

After practice was over, Austin would lace up my little skates and take me out on the Zamboni-polished ice to burn off any excess energy before we headed back to our dreary apartment.

It didn’t take me long to find the confidence to do more than just skate in a line. Even from a young age, I loved how free I felt, how in control I was. It made me want to chase that feeling each and every time I laced up my skates.

I started to feel bold, to have a confidence my shy, introverted self had never felt before. With a brother who was more than willing to give me the world.

Austin would twirl and toss and spin me around, leaving me in a fit of giggles every time. All the problems my little body wasn’t aware of but always carried would disappear.

I haven’t laughed on the ice in a really long time. Haven’t felt the joy or confidence or desire in even longer.

Just all muscle memory and discipline for me right now, where I’m skating more out of habit than for pleasure.

Still, every day I get back on the ice hoping today will be the day the spark I’ve been starving to taste again returns.

---