AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Even though I’m just talking at my own phone right now, even though I don’t know where I’m going to upload it or who—if anyone—would even be interested in watching it, just getting those words out in a way that I intend to be public helps relieve a weight that’s been oppressing me all day.
“I can’t do the jumps I used to be able to do. But I can still skate. And skating makes me feel better. Even though I can’t do the kind of skating I wish I could, any kind of skating makes me feel good. I just love being on the ice. I love how a person can turn their body, their motion, into art, with just some blades on their feet and a frozen surface underneath them. So, that’s what I’m going to do.”
Then, I just skate.
Keeping in the view of the camera, I skate with the form and grace I honed through years of training and practice. I do some of the non-jump moves I can still do, and I try to pull them off with as much flair and finesse as I would if I had a panel of judges in front of me.
I skate my heart out—as much as my body is still able to.
Feeling a rush of endorphins from the skate, my mood is better when I skate back up to the camera.
“I can’t do everything I used to do, but I can still focus on doing what I can do as good as I can. I miss skating in front of an audience, so maybe you guys will become an audience, whoever you are out there. If anyone out there’s taken time out of their day to watch me skate around, thanks.”
I flash my camera a smile before I pick it up and end the recording.
I don’t know what I’m going to do with this video. Put it on YouTube? Edit it and put it on TikTok?
I’m still not sure it’s something anyone’s going to care about, but the idea of sharing how I’m feeling, and sharing the skating skills I still have that I worked so hard for, with people makes me feel better.
I don’t have a class today, so I put my skates in my bag and tug my shoes back on. I’m about to head home, but then I hear the beep of an access card opening the front door.
It’s Hunter.
His blue eyes spark when he sees me, and he immediately crooks a confident grin at me. “Phoebe. Long time no see.”
“Uh. Hi, Hunter.”
Tension coils over me as a heavy warmth sits low in my center.
Hunter wears a pair of sweatpants—grey sweatpants, because of course—that sit low on his hips. A skin-tight long-sleeve athletic shirt clings to his rippling muscles, and I can see every peak and valley of his physique. His chest pops—wide, thick planes of hard muscle.
His thick bird’s nest of curly blonde hair is slightly matted, like he just came from a workout. Which he probably did, because his cheeks are slightly flushed, and the light crimson hue sitting on top of his smooth, golden skin makes me feel like my stomach is playing Twister.
He strolls up to me, his gait relaxed and cocky while I’m standing here tight and anxious.
It’s hard not to be anxious when we both know that I’ve been thinking about him screwing my brains out every day since we last talked.
“Been a while,” he says, now only inches from me. Yeah, he definitely just worked out, because my senses are assaulted by his pheromones, which makes it even harder to me to think straight. “Give anymore thought to my … proposal?”
I can suddenly feel my heartbeat between my thighs. From the workout he must have just came from, his muscles are more swollen, his skin more ruddy, and there’s a light sheen of sweat clinging to him that makes him almost glisten.
“Uh, not really,” I lie. “I’ve been, you know, busy. With school.”
The air vibrates with the rumble of his cocky laugh, and I feel it low in my center.
“You used to be a good liar, Pheebs. What happened?”
What happened is I got drunk and asked my lifelong rival, the guy I’m supposed to hate, to fuck me because my ex couldn’t make me come.
That’s going to do a number on any girl’s poker face.
“You need to take me up on my offer while I’m available, Pheebs,” he drawls, his smirk wry. “What if I find the love of my life and get engaged? Then I won’t be able to help you.”
“Ha!” The sheer absurdity of Hunter settling down with one woman is enough to unwind some of my tension.
Though, strangely, there’s a sour feeling in my stomach at the same time. Almost … jealousy?
Ha. That’s even funnier. No way. The feeling must be sympathy for the hypothetical girl who would wind upengagedto Hunter Landry.
