“Fuck.” He turns the gas stove off, rolling his eyes at me.
We sit and eat what is a slightly charred spaghetti bolognese, but still tasty. Once we’ve cleaned up, we do as Alfie promised. We run through practice questions for my dissertation defense.
???
“You once told me you wanted to learn how to skate.”
“I don’t remember this conversation.” The harsh air conditioning stings my face as the heavy buzz of a generator vibrates through the cold air. It’s early. Alfie had woken me at five this morning, helping me pull on some leggings and then a navy blue sweater over my head.
Now that we’re here, he’s lacing up my boots for me, a small smirk playing on his face as he kneels before me.
Once I’m ready, he skillfully fastens his own, before edging out onto the freshly resurfaced ice. It glints under the fluorescent lights, and Alfie holds out his hand, beckoning me to follow. I grip the top of the wall, and he chuckles.
“Give me your hands, love. I’ll look after you.”
Like that’s going to help keep me calm. Now I just want to jump on him like a trampoline.
There’s no one around; it’s just us skating, although I did see the Zamboni driver pottering around the edges, but he didn’t seem to be paying us any attention.
“If I fall on my ass, I’ll crawl over to you and chop you at your knees, Adams.”
He laughs. “I can’t promise you won’t fall, but I can promise you won’t be able to catch me if you do.”
“What if I fall and you skate right over my fingers?” Have I always had this irrational fear, or has this popped up today?
One eyebrow arches up as a small smile plays at his mouth. “I’m not going to risk your fingers, Mia. I know exactly what you can do with them.”
I blush, the cold air contrasting against my flushed cheeks. “You’ll certainly need to hire someone else to type up your notes.”
“What a disaster that would be,” he retorts dryly.
I allow him to lead me away from the wall, despite gripping his hands the way I would if I were giving birth. But he doesn’t complain. Just smoothly sways his hips in a slalom, dragging me along the smooth surface. I thought it would be bumpy, causing me to trip, but being here before anyone else has its perks. It’s like gliding along a layer of icing.
“I don’t know why I ever thought I’d want to be a figure skater,” I mutter.
“So you do remember?” His laugh echoes over the ice as I steady myself against the wall again.
“They’re just so graceful. I don’t know how they make it look so easy.”
“Try and move your feet a little. Just glide along, lifting one foot at a time. I’ll keep holding you.”
I try what he says and nearly lose my balance, but his strong arms hold me upright.
“I come here to de-stress. We used to skate a lot as kids. Teddy obviously found his calling. He liked the roughness of ice hockey that was mixed in with the skill. It was a way to get out his aggression safely. But for me, I always felt peaceful on the ice. Even when I’m speed skating as fast as I can, there’s nothing like it. It clears my head completely.”
I know he’s sharing as a way to distract me from what happened yesterday. I love that he wanted to share how he relieves his stress so it might help me too. His eyes glimmer with mischief so unlike him that I start to feel nervous.
“What are you up to? You better not let me go,” I warn. He smirks but keeps his fingers gripped around my arms.
“Why is your dissertation important?”
My dissertation?
I lift my head and my body throws off-balance. Alfie’s grip tightens, his hips swaying as he skates backwards, giving me an encouraging nod.
“I…well it’s important because, well… people that re-offend often don’t have access…fuck.” My blade scrapes along the ice and my fingers plunge into Alfie’s forearms.
“Interesting point, Miss Sinclair. Would you care to elaborate?”
