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"We are going to be on actual ice," I told him, though, admittedly, the long-sleeve thermal, sweatshirt, sweater, and jacket were starting to feel more than a little stifling. Add on the hat, gloves, and scarf, and I was practically an oven inside.
"You're sweating like crazy and you know it," Crosby said, shaking his head as he put his hand to the small of my back—a somewhat new gesture of his that I liked more than seemed appropriate—and led me through the crush of people.
"Okay, a little bit," I admitted as we got into a good position to look up at the massive tree.
We saw it every year. It was impossible to miss. But we'd never actually made it a point to stop and look and take it all in.
"I get why people come from all over to see it," I decided, feeling some of that childhood wonder we tended to lose a bit as we got older.
"It's beautiful," he agreed, but, oddly, I felt his gaze on my profile, not on the tree.
"Okay. So. Are we ready to see me make an idiot of myself?"
"You'll be fine," Crosby assured me as we made our way to wait in line. "I can teach you."
"Okay. Now you're putting images of you in my head as a figure skater in bright red and green tights..."
"Figure skater, no. Ice skater, yes. I played hockey in middle school."
"Wait... what? How do I not know this about you?" I asked, feeling like we'd shared so much since meeting, almost upset that there were things I still didn't know.
"I didn't stick with it for long. Just a season. You know my parents, they wanted us to try new things, to finish our commitments to them, but they didn't care if we only stuck it out for one year before moving onto something else. I finished hockey and then tried karate. Then fencing, piano, drums. I can do a million things at a mediocre level," he claimed, shrugging. "I was actually a good skater. It was the shooting the puck part that I sucked at."
"Is there anything you wish you'd stuck with?" I asked. I hadn't been allowed to do after school activities. Mostly because there wasn't a ton of extra money for it, and if there was extra money, my mom was more likely to use it on some new "get thin quick" scheme.
"Anytime I hear Clarence or Noel play piano, I wish I'd stuck with it to get to their level."
"Well, you are much better than I am, if that is any consolation." I only knew how to play Ode to Joy and even that, very slowly. "Hey, that would be a fun New Year Challenge," I said, lighting up. We didn't do resolutions because we knew we were doomed to fail, but we always set a small challenge for ourselves, usually to take a couple week class or declutter our lives, something that didn't take up too much time or effort, but did, slowly but surely, make our lives a little better.
"Taking piano lessons?" he clarified.
"Yeah!" I mean, we hang out all the time anyway, why not have one night a week where we hang out and learn something together instead of binge-watching something on TV or going out to eat?"
"I think that's a great idea," he decided.
"I mean, no pressure. We can quit anytime. God, remember when we thought we could do hot yoga every day for a month?" I asked, cackling a bit at the memory. He'd nearly passed out and I threw up. During our first class.
"We are never taking fitness advice from a hemp-wearing hippie barista named Bodi ever again," he agreed, leading me up to the skate rental.
Five humiliatingly clumsy minutes later, we were through the building, and Crosby was handing me the bar thing they give little children who are first learning how to skate.
"This is humiliating," I decided, inching forward while freaking Crosby skated backward along with me.
"It's pretty bad, I'm not gonna lie," he agreed, making a gasp/laugh hybrid escape me.
"Hey! You're not supposed to agree with me."
"But I'd be lying to you if I didn't," he said, shrugging. "If you want, you can ditch the trainer, and I can help you."
"Will you keep me from falling on my butt? Because that is my main concern right now. I should have worn padded butt leggings."
"Padded butt leggings. Why do they make those?"
"To get a fake big booty. I don't understand it. I mean, the second you get intimate with someone, they are going to know that your butt was all padding. But they do exist."
"I won't let you fall on your butt. I mean, we might fall, but I will try my best to take you down on top of me. What?" he asked, head dipping to the side a bit, making me realize that his words had sent another of those unexpected surges of desire through me.
