“Noted.” I positioned his left hand on my shoulder and laced my fingers through his right. “I don’t bend that way.”
“You bend plenty of ways. I’ve watched you contort to block slap shots.”
“That’s different.”
“Different how?”
“Hockey doesn’t require me to look graceful.” His grip on my hand remained firm.
I laughed and pulled him forward a step. “You look ridiculous standing there frozen. At least try.”
He grunted, but his feet shuffled forward. Stiff and reluctant, like I was leading him off a cliff.
I pulled him a couple of inches closer. The night air was freezing, but I could feel the actual body heat radiating through his jacket. His eyes dropped to my mouth for a second before snapping back up to meet my gaze.
“You need to relax into it a little,” I said, my voice coming out quieter than I meant it to.
“I hit guys into walls,” he grunted. “I do not waltz.”
“Just relax.”
He muttered something else under his breath, but he didn’t let go. His rough fingers shifted, lacing through mine. The sharp line of his shoulders finally dropped. And he stopped bracing his stance, leaving his hands in my grip and trusting my backward pull.
“Cross your left foot over your right,” I instructed.
When he attempted the crossover, his skates tangled almost instantly. He stumbled with a low, breathless laugh before his hockey instincts took over entirely. Dropping his hands, he lunged forward.
“Hey!” I yelled, skating backward as fast as I could to get away.
His eyes locked onto me, tracking my movements like I was an opponent with the puck. I tried to pivot and escape, but he caught me around the waist with a tight grip, his momentum hauling us both off balance until we went tumbling down to the hard ice.
We landed in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. I stared up at the dark sky while Aleksey rolled onto his back right next to me, our shoulders bumping as we caught our breath. The freezing air stung my lungs, but the cold surface was surprisingly comfortable.
Looking up at the sky, I took in the scattering of stars you could never see back on campus. The quiet made this place feel cut off from our normal lives. And it got me thinking about Aleksey’s future, and where he might actually be playing next year.
I turned my head to look at his profile. “So, how was the meeting with the Chicago scout?”
His chest rose and fell with a long breath before his dark eyes met mine. “We had coffee.”
I propped myself up on one elbow. “And?”
“He laid out an entry-level contract.” His voice went flat as the easygoing mood evaporated. He shifted a bit, crossing his thick arms tight over his chest and pulling his shoulder a few inches away from mine.
“Aleksey, that’s huge.” I propped myself up on one elbow, studying his face.
He kept his eyes fixed on the sky. “He even mentioned a development roster spot, too.”
“You’re going to get it. I know you are.”
Aleksey hummed, his broad shoulders lifting in a dismissive shrug. “We’ll see.”
I let the hockey talk drop. I knew he wouldn’t let himself believe it until he actually signed a piece of paper. Instead, I nudged his skate with my own. “How was the midterm?”
“Not terrible,” Aleksey admitted. He let his head fall back against the ice, his posture relaxing a bit.
“See?” I smiled. I traced a loose circle on the frozen surface with my finger. “I told you those extra late-night tutoring sessions would pay off.”
Aleksey rolled his head to the side. He watched my hand move against the ice before lifting his gaze to mine. A slow, knowing smirk broke across his face. “That’s because we actually studied for two straight hours last night.”
