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“Yeah. No problem. I got plenty.”
I look at Shane, who’s just as shocked as I am.
My heart warms. It’s like a Christmas fucking miracle. All it took was fighting someone on the ice for him, and Lars’s heart grew three sizes.
“Wow Lars,” Shane says, pretending to be choked up. “This is the best day of my life. I never even imagined that …”
“Oh, for fuck sake,” Lars groans. “If you’re gonna make a damn Hallmark movie out of it I take it back. Don’t use my fucking eggs.”
Shane just smiles at him. “I know you don’t mean that, Lars. I’m going to use your eggs like you so tenderly suggested, and they’re going to be the best eggs I’ve ever eaten. Because they’ll be flavored with the love two teammates have for each other.”
I clench down on my jaw to keep from laughing.
Lars just makes a rough, grumpy sound in his throat. “Just try not to use all of them.”
For the first time this season, I have a good feeling about our next game.
17
PHOEBE
It’s Thursday. Almost a week since I drunkenly blabbed to Hunter about never having had an orgasm with another person; almost a week since he offered to be the first man to make it happen the morning after.
My stomach still flips every time I remember the way he looked at me across the table in the diner. My thighs still squeeze together every time I remember what he said he’d do to me, and how he said it in a way that made me believe every single word.
I decided in the diner that the answer had to be no.
I was determined that my answer would be no.
I wasn’t able to utter the word. And I still haven’t been, even though I’ve had almost a week to tell myself that it’s the only sane answer to give.
Today, though, it’s actually not that topic that dominates my mind.
I woke up this morning in another one of my rueful, regretful moods over not being able to figure skate anymore.
No matter how many times I tell myself I can’t dwell on it, no matter how many times I tell myself I have to look forward to the possibilities that still exist rather than harping on the possibilities that were ripped away from me, I can’t help but sink into a depression every couple of days.
This morning, I’ve been under a cloud of depression since I rolled out of bed.
It’s one of those days where it’s hard to think of anything else.
I can’t stop missing the feeling of nailing a perfect jump, the kind of jump that it took me years to learn; the kind of jump that it took falls, bruises, tears, and heart-arche to learn, but which I finally mastered.
I can’t stop thinking about the excitement and nerves of competition day. I can’t stop thinking about the triumph when I earned a great score from the judges.
I can’t stop thinking about the dreams for the future that I used to have.
After classes today, an idea popped into my mind. Having nothing better to do for the rest of the day, and feeling like I have nothing to lose by doing it, I headed to the Ridley community rink to just do it.
I still want figure skating to be part of my life, beyond just teaching it. Maybe this is a way that can be possible.
Hunter and Shane are scheduled to have a class with their group in about two hours, but right now the rink is empty. I have the place to myself.
I lace up a pair of skates and get onto the ice, carrying my phone and a recording stand.
I set up my phone and start a video recording. Then, after a deep and heavy breath, I say what I have on my mind.
“Hi, everyone. My name’s Phoebe Sinclair. I used to be a figure skater. I loved it so much. But then, something happened that meant I couldn’t do it anymore. I miss it really bad. I miss it so much it hurts every day. I can’t share my love of figure skating with audiences, with judges, or with skating partners anymore. There’s a lot of stuff I can’t do on the ice that I used to be able to. But, I thought, maybe, I could share what I still can do with you all out there.”
