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“You got our drinks, so it’s only fair.”
Nick beams at me as the attendant looks for our sizes. I’m rarely thankful for having small feet, but it pays off in situations like this. I get a pair of skates in my size, but Nick has to settle for skates a size and a half too large.
The booth attendant laughingly sells him an extra pair of handcrafted, thick wool holiday socks. An intrepid local vendor left them at the booth for this purpose. The thick wool seems like enough to pad out the difference, but Nick still wobbles on his feet after lacing the skates up.
I chuckle as he tries to balance and take his arm. “I’ve got you, babe. Tell me you’ve at least skated before?”
The endearment slips out unbidden. It’s flippant and mostly the result of spending so much time with Saint who throws around pet names with impunity. It feels a little disingenuous with someone I’ve just met, but if this plan is going to work I’ll need to get used to calling Nick something sweet.
“Oh, sure. All the time.” He waves his hand dismissively, but then he flashes me a sheepish grin, and I want to see more of it. “When I was twelve. It’s been a few years since I made time for it.”
I laugh. “Okay, well, I go every year around this time. Saint usually makes time to come out with a group of our friends at least once a season. I’ll hold your hand.”
Nick beams at me, his expression turning sly.
“Sounds like I should pretend not to remember how to do this for as long as possible, then.” He winks. “You know, if it means I get to sidle up close to my baby.”
My cheeks heat with the warm rush of being flirted with. It stirs up a blend of emotions. The giddy excitement of that first blush of a mutual attraction mixed with hope that he won’t push for more, since we already discussed taking this slow. It’s a rush to connect like this with someone so effortlessly, I already don’t want it to end. I gulp my hot cocoa to hide my reaction, then nod toward his hand once I’ve got my flush under control. “Finish your drink so you don’t spill it everywhere when we inevitably fall on our asses.”
We both chug the last of our delicious drinks, and I take his cup to drop it in a bin nearby. Then I loop our arms together and we step onto the ice.
His feet immediately go out from under him, dragging me down with him in a heap. I glance over at him as the jolt of landing on my ass wears off, and I can’t help but grin at his look of shock. He catches my eye and gives me a sheepish half-smile.
“Guess it’s not like riding a bike, huh?” he jokes.
“Not quite.” I get back up by rote, because even if I only go a few times a year these days, skatingisas familiar as riding a bike to me. Moreso, considering our long winters and the lessons Eliza, Gail, and I used to take. We were all in every junior ice dance show from the time we could strap blades to our feet until we aged out of the program at the rec department. Eliza was good enough to consider serious competitions until a fall tore a ligament in her knee, but I was never as committed to the sport as my sister.
“Um, I might need help.” Nick fumbles around, trying to get his feet under him. “How did I do this as a kid?”
“It helps that kids are fearless. Kneel first,” I direct him, holding back my amusement. “Then plant one skate and push up off your thigh.”
“Ah, so, like I’m proposing?” Nick flashes me a cheeky grin as he assumes the position. “Are you dropping hints for Christmas morning?”
My pulse pounds when Nick gazes up at me with all that intensity. It’s like the rest of the world has faded into the background and we’re the center of our own little universe. It’s achingly similar to all my daydreams of a perfect love story. My heart races at how well the moment lives up to the fantasy. I try to ignore the way Nick’s smile makes my emotions surge in my chest. There’s something about him kneeling in front of me like this that’s far too evocative, even coming from a fake boyfriend. It’s suddenly too much, too vulnerable and raw. Too painful a reminder of what I wishI had for real.
“I don’t do proposals until at least the fourth or fifth date. Here, I’ll help you up.” I grab his hand and haul him to his feet.
Nick barely totters stiffly away by about a meter before he hits a rut in the ice. His skate slips, body pitching in a vain effort to counterbalance, his arms windmilling. He barely keeps his feet and gives me a wide-eyed, imploring look. “I think I need help.”
“Sure, I’ve got you.” I skate backwards in front of Nick to steady him with both hands on his biceps, to keep him from toppling again. This time, when he pushes off, it goes a little better. Until a kid zips in front of me. I catch the movement in the corner of my eye, but that distracts me from Nick’s response.
“Watch out!” Nick tries to stop, but he ends up digging in the toe picks on the rental skates, the momentum pitching him forward. At the back of my mind, I recognize that if he’s like most of the guys I grew up with, he’s probably more used to hockey skates with smooth blades. Well, crapola. It’s like I’m watching the next few moments unfold as a bystander, helpless to do anything but take Nick’s weight and not land on the kid behind me.
Nick skids into me. Our bodies collide. I wrap him in my arms and let his momentum spin us in a circle as I steady us both. The child darts away, oblivious to the brush with peril.
Nick clings to me, breathing hard, and for a heady moment, I’m holding another man in my arms as we whirl together in a tight half-spin. It reminds me of every fantasy I ever had about skating arm in arm with a lover when I was one of the only boys in my figure skating classes.
A snapshot moment out of a fantasy of how my storybook romance might unfold, and of course it’s all pretend. I shake off the thought and let myself cling a little longer, revel in Nick’s tight grip on the lapels of my jacket.
“Whoa! That was a close one,” Nick says, breathless and smiling. Humor lights up his face. “My hero.”
“You alright?” I ask, running my hands along his arms, taking comfort in the contact.
“Yeah, you better hold my hand to make sure I don’t fall again, or crash into anyone else though.” Nick offers me his gloved palm.
I release my grip on him to twine our fingers, and we take our first wobbling steps together, moving around the edge of the rink. I take it slow as the other skaters zip past us. Other couples glide hand-in-hand and laughing children dart between them. Nick almost falls a few more times on the first loop, he’s so stiff on the ice. I’m not sure if he’s hating this. But he doggedly gets back up and takes my hand following each stumble.
After the first few turns around the ice, Nick seems more comfortable on his feet. It’s like the motions and balance really are coming back to him, but he doesn’t relinquish my hand. I hold on to him too.
