Page 20 of Looks Real Good Now
“So, technically, you should be the one that I do what with. I mean, I am sure I could find someone else—”
“That won’t be necessary. I will get back on a pair of knives for you,” she cut in, her eyes locking with mine in the reflection. I fought the smile that threatened to break out on my face.
“When were you last on skates?” I asked out of curiosity. She twisted her torso around to face me.
“I dunno, a while.”
“Have you ever slowly skated around with a date?” I don’t know why I was asking; I didn’t really want to know. Something about the idea of her skating with someone else sat oddly with me.
“As far as every man I’ve ever dated is concerned, I don’t have the balance that is required for biking, skating, or skiing.”
My eyebrows creased; Lenny could do all those things. Well. I’d taught her how to ride a bike, we’d been skating since we were six, and we’d been skiing together multiple times. In the same place she was supposed to be spending this holiday.
“But weren’t you going to Aspen?”
“Yeah, that’s where Kai’s family always spend the holidays. If I was spending them with him, that was where we went.”
“What the hell did you do when you were there then if you didn’t ski?”
“Ate. Enjoyed the scenery. Slept. Enjoyed the hot tub in my room with a book. Drank a lot of hot chocolate. I was never there for that long, and everyone understood that with my handful of days off, I wanted to completely switch off and not partake in any kind of physical activity.”
“Why didn’t you want them to know you could do those things?”
“Okay, I told a small lie. I went on a date with a guy that first December at college and he couldn’t skate properly. He felt very hurt by the fact that not only could I skate, but I was also very good at it. He ghosted me and I dunno, I guess eighteen-year-old me internalised that and now I say I can’t skate for the sake of the fragile male ego.”
“So, can I take you on a slow skate date? I promise not to be offended when you skate better than me.”
“No, I think you should be embarrassed if I can out-skate you, Muller. I haven’t been ice skating for twelve years, whereas you were doing it professionally until mere months ago.”
“Still haven’t heard a yes.”
“I don’t know what I’m saying yes to anymore.”
“Doughnuts today. Ice rink later in the week. Date afternoon with the lights. I guess we can go to the city as well if you want?”
“So I’m saying yes to four whole dates?”
“Someone once paid good money to go on a date with me,”I teased.
“I hope it went to a good cause. What did you offer for this date?”
“It was a dinner date. I am offering you experiences that don’t involve being chained to a table surrounded by other people staring at us trying to figure out if I am who they think I am.”
“Skating with a professional ice hockey player is quite the experience, but surely it invites the same ‘Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?’ problem?”
“Wouldn’t know. I haven’t skated in a public skate rink since turning pro, but I like to think I cut a slightly different figure when I’m decked out in all the pads, so being out of them is the disguise.”
“No way in hell you aren’t being recognised the moment you put a pair of skates on.”
“What does the winner get?”
“Huh?”
“I think I won’t be recognised on an ice rink, you think I will, so what does the winner get?”
“Well, what do you want?”
A montage of X-rated activities flashed through my mind.
