Page 26 of My Rival for Christmas

paige

I can’t really bea pairs skater without a partner, can I?

Why did I tell him that? Why did I even answer?

The answer is as simple as it is complicated—because he’s Nate.

No matter what’s happened between us, he will always be the person who knows me better than anyone. Better than Kylie. Better than my brother.

Nate has a piece of me no one else will ever have. A bond forged over years of blood and sweat and tears and love. Of laughter and fears and celebrations and insecurities.

I haven’t even told Austin about the retirement comment, or how I can’t stop thinking I should. I’ve had an abysmal last two years of skating. Sportscasters and fans alike all agree I’m not a strong enough skater without Nate.

They keep asking: if I don’t have him, what’s the point?

The point is I love this sport like I love breathing. I need it like I need to eat. It’s essential to my very life.

Just like trust, which I don’t give easily.

Blame it on my parents for not choosing me over themselves, but I have a really hard time letting people in. Almost everyone in my life, I keep at arm’s length.

The only people outside of Austin I’ve ever let in fully have been Kylie and Nate.

They chose me. They wanted me.

Until Nate didn’t.

I can’t skate with him again.

We can’t go back. That bridge has been burned with the remains scattered in the wind.

But he wants to. I saw it painted loudly across his face.

And before he was able to give a voice to those desires, I did what any emotionally unstable twentysomething with avoidant tendencies would do.

I ran.

Knowing even as I did, the matter is far from settled. Once Nate gets an idea in his head, he becomes an even more annoying version of himself.

Yay me.

So while I know it’s only a matter of time before I run into him again, I push what happened this morning as far from my mind as possible.

Not just our conversation, but also the way it felt to have our bodies pressed together. His intensely dark eyes barreling into mine, sweeping over my face like he was trying to memorize every inch of my skin. Like he couldn’t get enough…

Ugh. No. We arenotthinking about this. Get it together, brain!

I adjust the godawful hat Kylie has somehow conned me into wearing, ignoring the way my body practically catches fire at merely the memory.

I’m not attracted to Nate Ford. I’mnot.

It’s just the beard. Somehow, a layer of facial hair has tricked my mind into thinking he’s a completely different person. Instead of my rival in disguise.

Didn’t feel like much of a rivalry today.

Good fucking lord, why won’t this hat stay still? I start to rip it off my head when Kylie stops me.

“Wait, wait. One more. I’m going to send this one to Austin.” Kylie holds up her phone as we walk, pausing every few feet to take pictures along Sugar Peak’s festively decorated Main Street, our bodies bundled from the cold.

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