Page 21 of My Rival for Christmas

Hence, making her chase me.

I know Paige thinks she’s hunting me, as we go round and round the ice, but there is no predator. And I’m no prey.

We’re not opponents fighting against each other. At least not right now. We’re a duality that can only exist together. Night and day. Thunder and lightning. Nate and Paige.

Together, we just make sense.

I just have to get her to see that. To look past the haze of rage that has clouded her stare for far too long and see me again. Seeus.

The conversation I had last night sits heavy on my phone, tucked away in my jogger’s pocket.

But I have a plan.

I make a sharp turn, causing my blades to kick up a spray of ice, narrowly missing Paige’s charging form as I sprint away from her.

“I’m going to strangle you, Nathan Ford!” Paige hollers after me, her tone as bitter as wind.

“Promises, promises, sweetheart.” I grin a sort of manic, crazy smile over my shoulder that feels like a balloon is inflating in my chest. “I’ll believe it when I feel it.”

She huffs in agitation as her skates rip at the ice, trying to catch up.

She will soon.

She always does.

I won’t even have to slow down my speed.

Whether it’s her steely grit or stubborn determination that makes her fly across the ice, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter how far behind she is, how fast I’m skating, she will always catch me.

She just has to get out of her head first.

I skate faster, completing another lap when Paige spins around, now in front of me.

Her petite nose is scrunched like a rabbit’s, lips drawn in a tight line, and her eyes hone in on me like a prize.

Come and get me, then,I silently challenge her.

Oh, just you wait,her unflinching stare says back.

I give her a wink, turning back around as something tight in my chest unfurls.

A lightness I haven’t noticed missing begins to breathe life into my tired bones, and now that it’s here, I cling to it with a desperate need, not wanting this chase to end.

It feels like old times.

I know this might be hard to believe, but Paige is actually quite high-strung. Calm is not a word programmed into her personality. When other people say rest, she says in ten minutes.

But the ten minutes never come.

It’s so bad, I’ve actually seen her sleeptalk her way through routines before. And not in mumbles, but actual crisp, clear words passing through her unconscious mouth.

There’s nothing quite like sharing a hotel room with her, only to be woken up in the dead of night with her calling out this move or that one—like a sergeant calling out battle formations.

More than once, I’ve startled awake thinking we were under attack.

But I’ve never liked seeing a stressed Paige, so I started coming up with ways to get her to relax. Or at least give her a reprieve from the spirals in her head.

I’d skate up to her and snatch the water bottle or phone from her hands, I’d pull out the hair tie of her ponytail. Grabbing anything in the moment that would get her to chase me around the rink.

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