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I chased him through the doors to the team side of the rink. He finally stopped and faced me. He towered over me, a warm and solid presence. The rink was cold and deeply quiet, this early before their practice. It felt so different from the other side. It was huge, and standing down here in front of the plexiglass, the tiers of seats seemed to rise up a mile above us. They played for so many people.
“Here’s your purse,” he said blandly, handing it over.
“Why?” I asked, finally taking it from him. “Why help me?”
“Like I said before. You’re part of the team now.”
I shook my head. That wasn’t true, or at least, it wasn’t that simple. I believed Sebastian would’ve intervened for anyone who was being stolen from. I could even believe he might come to the rescue of anyone who was being baited or bullied.
But this was more complicated than that.
“Skate with me,” I said.
He shook his head.
“Come on, if anyone else comes in here and sees me skating, they’ll kick me out. You’re going to get me fired.” Suddenly, it occurred to me that maybe that was what he wanted.
“No one’s going to kick you out,” he scoffed. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
Doubt still lingered for me…along with a desire to keep talking to him.
“You don’t have anything else to do before practice,” I told him. “Or are you worried I’ll outskate you?”
It was such a totally outlandish claim. It still made his lips twitch a little more.
“Fine,” he said. “But you have to come here to skate from now on. I don’t want anyone hassling you like on the other side.”
“We’ll see.” I wasn’t going to make any promises.
He stepped out onto the ice. Then he turned, skating backward without any apparent effort. He was wearing a sweatshirt that hugged his shoulders and a pair of gray sweatpants, his dark blond hair wild around the hard angles of his face. His jaw and cheekbones were so sharp, he didn’t look like he was quite the same species as the rest of us.
“You need better skates,” he told me, skating backward.
I glanced down at the frayed black hockey skates that the rink rented out. “Ah yes. The old skates…that’s the only reason I can’t outskate you.”
He chuckled, and my gaze flew to his face. Warmth blossomed in my chest. I’d made him laugh.
“You have a competitive streak, hm?” he teased me.
I skated after him. “It’s nothing compared to yours.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“How’s Carter doing?”
His lips tightened. “He’ll be fine.”
I hated that he had stopped smiling, and I hated that I was so far from their tight little circle of friendship. He wasn’t going to tell me how Carter was really doing.
“Are you looking forward to the charity auction?” I asked him.
“Not at all.”
“Do you ever answer a question with more than six words?” I asked in exasperation.
He held up six fingers, put one down with each word. “Not. If. I. Can. Help. It.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re impossible.”
