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I slowly crossed the room and sat on the locker room bench a couple of feet away from her. She shrugged, then busied herself with unlacing her skates.
“Why can’t you skate with that Matty guy anymore?” Matty seemed like a decently solid dude. I watched a rerun of their program at Nationals, and they were excellent together. They skated to a pretty romantic song, and it actually made me a bit jealous the way he touched her face and held her. They only had one small mishap when Claire fell out of a jump. After they took a bow, he looked disappointed, but he still gave her a hug and acted like he was happy. And, after a bit of research on social media, I decided the best part about Matty was that he had a boyfriend. There was no danger with him wanting her the way I wanted her.
She paused. “Want the political answer or the real one?”
Skating and hockey were riddled with politics. If you said one wrong thing, you could be blackballed for life. In hockey, if you told an OHL scout that you want to play for the USHL, then you’d be done– off every draft list in Canada before you could even blink. It went the same way if you said you wanted to play in Canada to USA hockey scouts. Just not a good idea. You had to talk through landmines when trying to make it. In figure skating, it was more like if you pissed off the wrong coaches or judges, they’d make your life a living hell. The sport had changed the whole scoring system, but politics were still at play. In competitions nowadays, each element was worth a certain amount of technical points, but even if a girl skated a completely clean and beautiful program, they could still ding her on “artistry points” and claim that she just wasn't graceful enough or some dumb shit like that. It was all still very subjective and unfair at times.
I scooted closer to her and nudged her shoulder. “It’s me. The real answer, duh,” I said gently.
She chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “It’s hard for me to admit, but I was just unfocused and messing up a lot last competitive season. I was the reason we got second and not first at Nationals. But instead of working through my rut together– which, let me tell you, I stayed with him through many of his mental ruts– he just dumped me. And now,” she looked at me with a serious face, “I want to crush him in competition.”
I regarded her with a proud smile. “Thatta girl.” I patted her leg. “Now that finally sounds like the real you. So, you were only trying to stick with Jackson because maybe he could help you beat Matty?”
She sighed and looked at me pointedly. “It’s Jacques. And yes, but…”
“But he’s a total asshole.”
She slouched against the cinderblock wall behind her. “Yupp.”
“Skating with him and taking all his nasty shit-talking isn’t worth it. I think you can do better,” I told her earnestly.
“Thanks,” she said lamely. “I just don’t…” her voice trailed off and she cringed. She quickly looked away from me, like if she didn’t, she’d break down. I felt an intense need to comfort her, but I pulled back. I couldn’t come on too strong.
“What?”
She pulled a foot into her lap to massage it. “I’m starting to get used to being around here… I don’t want to move again.”
I tried to keep the emotion off my face. I didn’t want her to move either and I hoped she’d at least be around for the rest of the summer.
I gently pulled her foot into my lap and started rubbing it out for her. She looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“I don’t want you to move either, Kessel.”
She looked caught off guard and continued to stare at her foot in my hands.
“Ya know…” I cocked my head to the side. “I’d skate with you if I could.”
She cracked a smile at that. “You couldn’t skate pretty if your life depended on it, Duke Callahan. You’re practically a bender out there.”
I look at her in mock-hurt. “That’s pretty harsh, Kessel. One, I am not a bender. And two, yes, I could totally skate pretty!” I did a little flicking motion with my hands, trying to copy her movements. “See, I got your princess hands down pat.”
“Princess hands?!” Her hazel eyes danced with amusement. I loved that I put a smile back on her face. In fact, I wanted to keep putting smiles on her face, all the time if I could…
“Listen, Claire…” I started, then kinda lost my words.
She stopped laughing and looked at me in question.
I closed my eyes for a second and shook my head. I couldn’t believe I was going to use Sav’s words, but I guess it was worth a try. “Have you uh… Have you ever listened to The Story of Us?” I powered on, not waiting for a response, “Because that’s what we are right now… But I’d rather be like any other song, I’d rather be like… like Love Story.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded solemnly, then dropped her head back against the cinderblock wall and cackled like it was the funniest shit she’d ever heard.
My face immediately flamed red. I pushed her foot off my lap. “I’m leaving now.”
Her cackles quieted to chuckles and she wiped the corner of her eyes. “When did you become such a romantic, Duke Callahan? Talking Taylor Swift to me?”
I blew out a sigh. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
“When did Savannah get home?” she asked knowingly.
