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He nods, his smug grin from earlier is a distant memory. “Got it.”
“Both of you give me a lap.” She concentrates on Nate. “Concentrate on being graceful, not fast, but keep up with Stassie.”
“Graceful. Slow. Got it…Ow! Why do you always pinch me?” He groans, rubbing his stomach.
“I am not slow! I’ve already proven I’m faster than you are once. Do I need to do it again?”
Nate’s mouth opens, but before he can fire back, Brady claps her hands. “What part of graceful made you two think I want to watch a race? Do as I ask, now!”
Setting off, Nate manages to keep pace. When we’re far enough away to feel safe, he moves closer. “What’s with the clapping?”
It’s fun having other people experience Brady’s antics for the first time. After over two years of working with her, I don’t even notice anymore. “I like to imagine she was a dog trainer in a past life.”
We make it back to where we started, and I recognize Coach’s distaste immediately. It’s very easy to recognize something you see six days a week. Poor Nate looks pleased with himself, and to his credit, he did match my pace.
“How was that?” He grins.
She kisses her teeth. “Like a drunk deer, misguidedly stepping onto a frozen lake.”
“Do they have a lot of drunk deer in Montana, Coach?” I ask, remembering to say Montana and not Russia at the last second.
“Do not sass me, Anastasia. The pair of you do it again.Gracefully.” I’ve done more laps than leaps before Brady is finally satisfied with Nate’s version of graceful. “Much better, Nathan. You’re not playing hockey now. Nobody is going to attack you on the ice.”
“Respectfully, Coach.” His eyes flick to me quickly. “I don’t think you can promise me that.”
Once we get into the swing of things, I’m thoroughly enjoying my training session for the first time in forever, and IthinkBrady might be too.
Moving to the center of the ice, I move to Nate’s side to introduce the simpler jumps. He doesn’t need to do anything complex to help me but ensuring he’s in the right spot and facing the right direction is essential when I do the real technical part.
More than anything, I need him to recognize the names of things so he knows what I’m doing, and doesn’t accidentally get in my way.
“I’m going to make it easy for you. Just pay attention to my feet.”
“Stassie,” he drawls. “I’m pretty sure I skated before I walked. You don’t need to make it easy for me. I probably know far more than you expect me to.”
Arrogance. My favorite thing to deal with.
“Okay, brainiac. What edge do you take off from when you’re doing a Lutz?” He moves in front of me, and I can see on his face that he hasn’t got a clue. “Jokes on you, you’ve proved you need to shut up and listen to me.”
“Jokes on you.” He scoffs. “I don’t even know what a Lutz is.”
“You are the most annoying man I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t care what you call me as long as I’m top of the list.”
How the hell am I supposed to get through this six days a week?
Even when he’s annoying, I still want to jump his bones. The long-sleeved T-shirt we bought earlier is clinging to every muscle, his cheeks are flushed, and every time he looks at me, and the corner of his mouth tugs up, I forget every thought.
I’ve been totally and utterly unhinged by a man. I’m disgusted with myself, for being distracted, for knowingly letting every slither of feminism shrivel up and die over dimples and thick thighs.
“Why do you look like you’re having a crisis?”
Because I am?“Pay attention. I’m not explaining this again.”
“Hey, I’m not the one daydreaming.”
“There are six types of jumps in figure skating: toe loop, flip, Lutz, Salchow, loop, and Axel. They fall under two categories, which are toe jumps and edge jumps. Can you guess what toe jumps are?”
