Page 39 of Fly Boy
She looks behind me before quickly flipping me the bird and takes off down the chute. Daisy’s gloved hand slots into mine, her green gaze shining up as she says, “Can we change Taylor Swift now?”
“Do you not like her?” She screws up her nose, and I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, what do you want to listen to?”
“AC/DC,” she replies without missing a beat.
I nearly stumble over my blades—an excellent quality in a competitive skater—chuckling at Daisy’s serious expression.
“AC/DC. Sure. Any song in particular?” Pulling my phone from my hoodie pocket, I bring up my music app.
“Thunderstruck.”
The girl sure knows what she likes.
The song's recognizable cords boom around the arena, and Daisy launches forward, dragging me with her. She headbangs each time the band yells “thunder,” and each time, I throw my head back with a laugh.
As the album continues to play, Daisy displays as much enthusiasm for every song as she did for the first one. I show her some midair turns and intricate footwork, and she tries to copy them, eventually giving up. Her attention turns to her air guitar, and I join her, rocking out on the ice, my eyes closed, my hair swinging as I nod in time to the beat.
That is, until she stops me, tapping my arm and looking worried, “Miss Pippa. There’s a man in a suit watching us.”
My stomach drops with dread. This is meant to be a closed practice. No one should be able to just walk inside from off the street. I whip around, nudging Daisy behind me, ready to protect her, but my relief is as quick as the dread was.
It’s like seeing an animal in the wild as I stare at Wyatt. On the plane, his uniform looks normal, part of his everyday attire,belongsthere. But seeing the man on the other side of the boards, dark navy pilot’s hat on his head casting a shadow over his face, the pressed white shirt and tie peeking out from the suit jacket…it makes my mouth water. I want to drag my nails down his front, over his clothes, before stripping him bare, licking him from head to toe.
A uniform that good should be illegal on a man like him.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I tell her, remembering where I am and crouching to her level. “Let me speak to him, and I’ll be right back.”
“Do you know him?” Nibbling on her lower lip, she peeks around me. “Mommy said not to talk to strangers.”
“Yeah, I know him.” I brush my hand over one of her pigtails, and she nods, seemingly happy, skating across the rink as a new song begins. I hold my breath as I glide over, trying to calm my racing heart as Wyatt removes his hat, toying with the edges.
“When I said I’d give you a free show, I didn’t mean for you to sneak in and watch like a creepy voyeur,” I tease when I approach the side. “I usually like knowing when I’m being watched.”
“You’re late,” he replies, and I fight not to roll my eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t rise to my bait.
“I have to wait until Daisy’s mom gets here,” I say, thumbing over my shoulder. His blue eyes look behind me before returning to mine.
“How long will that take?”
I shrug. “Maybe another fifteen minutes?” Smirking, I lean on the edge of the boards, propping on an elbow and holding my chin in my hand. “Why don’t you sit and wait?”
“And watch you rock out to AC/DC?” he deadpans, curtly shaking his head. “I’ll wait outside.”
“Stop being boring, and sit your ass down and watch me skate, Wyatt,” I say, somewhat commanding. His eyebrows arch, and a thrill of delight rushes over me. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to see what I can do.”
Like a shot, I reach forward and snatch the hat from his hands, plopping it onto my head. A muscle in his neck ticks as he stares at me for one long second, my arms prickling with goosebumps beneath my hoodie sleeves, his gaze cooler than the AC pumping around the rink.
I tap the bill of the hat with my finger. “You can have this back when I’m done.”
He swallows, his eyes narrowing as I skate backward, pointedly looking at the stands. Then he turns, storming over to the first row of seats and dropping down.
Grinning, I spin and skate like I’m competing. Only the moves are unchoreographed and random but precise and accurate. I let the music fuel me and take me wherever it wants as I pirouette, leap, and glide across the ice, my blades and I becoming one.
Daisy laughs as I tip Wyatt’s hat to her, trying her best to copy me until I take her hand and whirl her around. Her eyes light up as the air whips around us, our hair flying around our heads the faster we go.
“Watch this,” I whisper, letting go. Starting to spin, I lift my leg and pull it behind me and over my head. I hear Daisy squeal with delight, clapping wildly. I don’t get a chance to look toward the stands when I land before Daisy sprints over, her small hands latching onto my wrists as she bounces in place.
“Teach me! Teach me! Teach me!!”
