Page 43 of Thrown for a Loop
It turns out that he and Zoe have all the same tastes. They both love kettle chips. But not flavored chips, because those are disgusting. They both love cinnamon-sugar doughnuts but not glazed.
Tonight they’ll be dining on chips with guacamole. Zoe loves dip.It’s magical, she said the first time he brought some up to the roof.And we’d never have this at home.As usual, he kept his thoughts about her diet to himself. But it must suck to have your parents in cahoots with your coach.
He has a deep understanding of shitty parenting, though. In fact, there’s a call on his phone he’s deliberately not returning. The old man only wants to complain. He calls Chase only when nobody else will listen.
Zoe:Okay! It’s safe now.
He grabs the goods and heads out of the room, finding Joon-ho stretching in the hallway after a run. The kid narrows his eyes. “Why do you always go up to the roof alone, with a cooler?”
“It’s my office. I go there to think. You’re in for the night, right? Lights out is in an hour.”
“Yeah, Mom.”
Chase takes the stairs two at a time. At the top, he pauses a moment to be sure he isn’t breathing hard. Then he opens the door to the sound of music.
The first thing he sees is Zoe, arms over her head, her eyes closed as she sways to the music she’s playing on her phone. His heart swells when he recognizes the song—“Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak. It was his top choice of the three ideas he sent Zoe.
She isn’t singing along, though. It takes him a moment to realize she’s marking out some kind of choreography. Honestly, most of his focus is on her short-shorts, which show off those mile-long legs. She casually lifts one toe into the air at an angle most mortals would never consider possible.
Watching her move does something unfamiliar to his insides. The feeling is bigger than attraction. Whenever he sees her skate, or even smile, it’s with the bone-deep certainty that he could watch her forever, and every minute would be fascinating.
The door slips closed under his hand, and Zoe turns at the sound. And then her expression opens up, her eyes bright. “Hey, Hockey!” she says. “I like this song a lot.” She leaps forward to get closer to him. “Can we keep it?”
He nods, not trusting his voice. Then he folds her into a hug and inhales the apple scent of her shampoo. No one haseverbeen this happy to see him. Her body presses against his, and he can scarcely remember to breathe.
“Great pick. So moody, right?”
“So moody,” he echoes, releasing her. Mostly. Almost overnight, he’s turned into one of those guys who’s always touching his girl. His hand on her elbow or at the small of her back. Just to remind himself that she’s real.
“The lyrics are kind of dark,” she says. “And a little unusual for the showcase. But I love it desperately.”
He indulges in a quick kiss. Just one, right at the corner of her perfect mouth. “Tell me more about this showcase. Who comes?”
She does a pirouette, apropos of nothing. Every time they’re together, she gets a little looser. A little freer with him. “It’s a Saturday night performance over parents’ weekend. Lots of other people come, though. Skating coaches from around New England and parents of prospective campers. Plus locals.”
He grabs the cooler bag and heads over to one of the lawn chairs. He sits down and pulls her into his lap. “So it’s a big deal for you?”
“Not for me,” she says. “For my mother, though. And you know how she gets when she’s unhappy.”
“Your mother? Wait…” He runs that sentence back through his head, and a bomb of understanding suddenly detonates in his chest. “Sister Walsh is yourmother?”
She stares. “You didn’tknowthat?”
“Um…” He’s vaguely aware that he looks pretty stupid right now, but that’s not even the bigger problem. “You don’t look that much alike.”
But even as he says it, he knows that’s not really what tripped him up. Sister Walsh is socoldto Zoe. Always. Sometimes Chase will enter the rink at the end of one of their private coaching sessions and hear the way she speaks to Zoe.Sloppy extension! What kind of an axel was that supposed to be?OrExcuses don’t win medals, Zoe.
Sister Walsh never seems happy with anything Zoe does. Once,when Zoe landed a gorgeous triple-triple combo during practice, her mother only said “Finally” before walking away.
“People always say we don’t look alike. I guess I take after my father. Not that I’d know.”
“You have his last name,” Chase realizes. “So who’s this Mr. Carson?”
Zoe bites back a smile. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”
“Why?”
“He’s the reason my mother hates hockey players.”
