Page 31 of My Last Dance

He used his hand to cross his heart.

“You’re insane, Richard.”

His deep chuckle filled the air between us. “Yeah, but you’re not just finding that out, are ya?”

Smirking, I looked away. Coldplay’s “Yellow” came on, and I wistfully watched the little love story play out on the rink in front of us. Mer pulled into a layback and Colt watched her like she hung the moon.

The two of them made me realize it was real—the type of love that people talked about in songs and books and movies. It did exist. At least…it existed for girls like Mer. I had a feeling Mer would drop skating in a second if it meant being with Colt, and I think Colt would drop hockey to be with her. I just…I wasn’t sure that would ever be me. Mer was a doe-eyed Disney princess type of girl who loved everyone and hated competition. Icravedit. I craved the chance to prove myself. I craved the win. Sometimes I wished I could be more like—

“I wish I was more like Colt,” Kappy said aloud.

My neck snapped over to him.How the hell were we thinking almost the exact same thing?

“He always says the right thing, ya know?” He readjusted his beanie. “And they found each other. They know what they’re doing.”

My eyes locked on his dark ones. “Yeah, but they found each other too…” I trailed off because I didn’t want to say it.

“Early.” He nodded with a grimace.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I want that, but…I’m too selfish right now.”

He rolled his lips together. “I get it. Completely.” He pulled his hands back, and I swear a whimper involuntarily ripped from my throat. My face immediately burned with embarrassment. He just grinned like he was pleased before resuming the massage. “What’s your biggest dream?”

“Winning,” I said without hesitation. “The Olympics. That’s all I want. That’s all I think about.”

“Really?” He studied me for a second. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“What did you think?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. What about buying a house? Getting married?”

I almost laughed. “Haven’t thought too much about that stuff to be honest.”

“You haven’t?” His face scrunched. “What about your mantel picture?”

“What?” Now I fully laughed.

“Yeah.” His cheeks flamed a little as he struggled to contain a grin. “Like in your future house. Everyone puts their wedding picture above the fireplace, up on their mantel, ya know?”

“Well, not me,” I mused, staring up at the stars starting to appear in the darkening sky. “For one, I don’t think I even want a house.” I cocked my head to the side in thought. “I want a penthouse in a big, bustling city. And as formymantel picture, it’ll be me and my partner up on the podium at the Olympics.”

“Oh…” He frowned at the snow, lost in thought for a beat. “Okay, I guess. Penthouses are pretty pricey.”

I took the opportunity to openly study his face. He changed this past year. His jawline was more defined, and he’d broken his nose in a game a couple months ago so there was a slight notch in it now, but it seemed to perfect his rugged look. The only boyish thing abouthim now were his cute dimples that still popped out when he gave a genuine smile. “What’s your dream?” I dared to ask.

“Uh…” He adjusted his beanie and looked out to the pond, a sheepish grin on his face. “To be in a mantel picture.”

“It isnot,” I burst out, because he couldnotbe serious. What teenage boy dreamed about that? I swatted at his chest. His eyes lingered on my hand, but his face remained serious, making me feel a twinge of regret for laughing at him. “What about the NHL?” I pushed.

“Yeah, of course that’s a goal.” He shifted his muscular legs. “But that’s more in my control, ya know? If I work hard and focus, I’ll get there. Simple. I just need thetimeto get there. The mantel picture though…” The corner of his lip quirked up. “That takes two people. Someone would have to choose me.” His eyes dipped. A tiny, almost sheepish smile crossed his face, almost as if he were admitting,yeah, I know it’s lame,and my heart squeezed in my chest.

In a daring move, I reached out and touched his cheek with my gloved hand. “You don’t think someone would choose you?”

He licked his lips and arched an eyebrow. “I’m the dumb, funny one, aren’t I?” he joked, but I didn’t laugh.

“You’re funny, but we both know you’re not dumb.” I was the one who saw him studying every day at the rink and working on Math homework that was way beyond my level. I swiped my thumb under his eye, right over his little birthmark, and his eyes fell closed. “A girl would have to be crazy not to choose you, Richard,” I whispered.

His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow, and his chocolate brown eyes flashed to mine. “Y-you think?”

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