Page 44 of Stay
Instead of playing Division I hockey, I’m with a guy who doesn’t think I can skate.
How on earth had I fallen so far in life?
Irritated with myself for dwelling on the past, I shake the thoughts away.
As I rise to my feet, I’m inundated with so many memories that I almost stagger under the heavy weight of them.
Cole sits to tie his own skates. He must keep all of his equipment here in a private locker room for the team, because he’s now wearing a black warm-up suit with the team emblem and a pair of gloves. He told me to bring a jacket, gloves, and a hat, which is what I’m wearing since it’s cold in the rink.
As I wait for Cole to lace up his skates, I’m suddenly antsy to get out on the ice. The urge to stretch my legs pounds through me like a steady drumbeat. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed it. Even in crappy rental skates, I just want to feel that first glide across a fresh sheet of ice.
I watch as my warm breath puffs out in the chilled air. The scent of the ice and the feel of the rink overload my senses.
A lifetime of memories crowd the inside of my brain until I become lost within them. I grew up at our local ice arena. I’ve lost track of how many times Mom rolled her eyes before telling Dad and me that we should have our mail forwarded to the rink because we spend more time there than at home. Like everything else, it’s a bittersweet memory.
Once his skates have been laced up, Cole rises to his feet before holding out his hand to me. I take his gloved hands as he props his stick against the Plexiglas wall. He opens the heavy metal door and steps out onto the ice before flipping around to wait for me.
I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. He’s adorable when hethinks he needs to coddle me. It almost makes me feel bad for tricking him.
Almost.
“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.” He waits patiently for me to close the distance that separates us.
Maybe I’m a terrible person for doing this, but I can’t resist.
“Are you sure?” I grip the wall as if terrified, gingerly hobbling out onto the smooth sheet of ice, wobbling a bit as I go. My arms flail as Cole swiftly grabs hold of me before towing me toward him. I allow Cole to do all the work while I glide without moving my feet.
“See? You’re doing so awesome!”
He gives me an encouraging smile as if he’s proud that I haven’t fallen on my ass. It takes everything I have inside not to burst out laughing. He’s too damn sweet. That being said, he shouldn’t have made assumptions about my skating abilities. That’s where he screwed up.
“Do you want to try gliding now? I promise, it’s really easy. You won’t have any problems.” He releases my hands before demonstrating how to take long, smooth strokes with my skates.
I bite down on my lower lip to keep the smile from dancing across my face. This is way too much fun and I’m nowhere near done toying with him.
Eyes wide, I wobble a bit and flail my arms before taking a few short, choppy strokes.
He beams, circling around me with ease. “You’re a natural. We’ll have you skating like a professional in no time.” He transitions smoothly from forwards to backwards as if floating across the ice. If anyone is a natural, it’s him. He is incredibly fluid. I could stand here and watch him for hours.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” My skates move rapidly beneath me as I pretend to lose my balance.
Within seconds, he eats up the distance between us before pulling me into his arms and holding me close. His attention drops to my parted lips. Time stands still as my heartbeat speeds up. His gaze returns to mine, looking more heated than before.
“I’m going to kiss you, Cassidy,” he murmurs, voice sounding like crushed gravel. “If you don’t want me to, you’d better tell me now.”
My breath hitches as need floods through me, igniting a firestorm in its path.
“I want you to kiss me.”
I tip my face toward his and wait for his lips to settle over mine. He caresses them gently, making me forget where we are. Just as I sink further into the warm embrace, he draws away before untangling himself from me, leaving my body to pulse and throb with need.
“Okay, let’s try that again.” He motions for me to skate toward him. Slightly disorientated from that kiss, I pick up each skate as if clumsily trying to walk across the ice.
“No, not like that,” he patiently instructs. “You have to glide. Just remember, long smooth strokes.”
Long smooth strokes.
Now that’s a distracting thought. Maybe even more so than his kisses.
