I miss the routine of it sometimes, but do I miss her? No, at least not the same way she misses me. It brings me no pleasure to be the one shutting her down.
“We can’t keep doing this. We agreed that it was best to give each other space.”
“Well, I don’t agree anymore. I want to talk to you and tell you about my day. You were my best friend.” She’s crying and fuck, that guts me. “I think we should get back together.”
“You don’t mean that. You were miserable. We both were.”
“Things were busy. I got overwhelmed. I took you for granted. I won’t do that again.”
“Carrie, I’m always going to care about you, but that isn’t what I want. I don’t think it’s really what you want either.”
She sniffles.
“Neither of us can move on if we’re holding on to the past.”
“I know.”
I sit on my bed and hang my head. “Are we good?”
“I will try to call less, but I’m not giving up on us.”
I let out an exasperated sigh away from the phone. We talk a few minutes longer and I get off the phone not feeling any better about the situation than I did when I called her, but at least I’ve said what I needed to.
I give Sienna the rest of Saturday but she doesn’t text. First thing Sunday morning, I head to the rink. If I know Sienna, she is already here even though their practice isn’t for a few hours. I’m not the least bit surprised when I spot her, skating around the ice looking graceful and strong. I change into my skates and then hang off to the side, watching her as she runs through her program.
Chin held high, cheeks red from the chill of the ice, resolve and confidence radiates from her. She’s stunning. This can’t be over.
I step onto the ice as she’s coming around. She slows and stops in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, smiling, chest rising and falling as she catches her breath. She glances down at her watch, something I’ve noticed she does a lot to check her heart rate.
I shrug a shoulder. “Might have missed you.”
“In the twenty-four hours since I saw you last?”
“Absolutely.”
She laughs lightly and skates over to grab her water.
“I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“Rhett, I’m not mad at you. I get it.”
“But you ran off at the ass crack of dawn with some vague bullshit about texting me later. Then you didn’t. You don’t want to keep hanging out?”
“I like you. I’ve had so much fun this past week, but I don’t think I’m capable of being a rebound.”
I push off and go to her. “You’re not a rebound. Carrie and I are over. We’ve been over. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the way I do right now.”
“Which is?” She smirks. She’s fishing, but that’s fine. About to get yourself a whale, girl.
“I like you.” I tip her chin up with a hand and lean in, lower my voice. “A lot.”
She lets me brush my mouth over hers, but then she shoves off from my chest skating backward. “Prove it.”
I arch a brow up and follow her to the center of the ice. “Here?”
“Yep. I’ll skate you for it.”
“How exactly is that going to prove I like you?”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared?”
Is she serious? “Maybe you weren’t paying attention at the game the other night, but I’m pretty fast.”
“Oh, I was paying attention.” She runs a hand up my chest seductively and then circles around me. “You in?”
“Absolutely, angel.” Few things I wouldn’t agree to right now.
We go to the goal line and I yawn, egging her on. In reality, blood is pumping through my veins. I love competing and if it means winning more time with her? Sign me up.
“Are you sure you don’t want to warm up?”
“I’ll be fine.” I roll my head side to side and lean forward slightly. “Say when, angel.”
She huffs a laugh, adjusts her headband and focuses forward. “When.”
I let her push off first. I have no intention of letting her beat me, but she’s a damn sight as she speeds off from me. She glances over her shoulder, brown ponytail blowing around her face, to see why I haven’t moved yet. That’s my cue.
She’s fast, but I’m faster. I reach her in a flash, then slow down so we’re skating side by side. Her tongue peeks out and she pumps her arms faster. I pull ahead as we reach the goal line at the opposite end and stop, ice spraying from my skates.
“Again,” she says before she’s even stopped.
“You think that was beginners’ luck?”
“Backward this time.” She turns, arches a brow, silently daring me.
“I have a better idea.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I’m listening.” She stands tall. Goddamn, she’s beautiful all determined and competitive.
“I’ll skate your routine.”
She laughs. When I don’t join her, she says, “You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
“You don’t know my routine.”
“If you’re so sure of that, then it should be an easy bet for you to take.”
She cocks her head to the side and narrows her gaze.
“If I can skate your entire short program, then you have to give us a real chance. Deal?”
I can see her contemplating it and the second she gives in. “Okay.”
I grin.
“But, if you fall on any of the jumps, then it’s an automatic disqualification.”
“I won’t fall.”
“So sure of yourself. This should be entertaining.” She skates away from me, steps off the ice, and leans against the wall. “Want music?”
“Yeah, turn it up.” That way she can’t hear the swear words I’ll likely be muttering as I do jumps and leaps I haven’t attempted in years. Now that this is happening, my nerves kick in. I’ve watched her skate a lot. Little glances while we’re practicing and a couple of times we’ve gone early together and she’s let me be her personal cheering section.
I’m perfectly capable of skating her routine. Not well, mind you, but I’m ninety-five percent sure I can stay on my feet. You don’t grow up with parents who teach figure skating and not think to yourself, hey I’m gonna try that shit. Or, I didn’t anyway. Sometimes out of boredom and sometimes trying to impress girls. It didn’t work then, at least on the impressing girls part, but I’m hoping to change that today.
Her routine starts staring down at the ice and then a whip of the head as the music starts. I glance over at a smug-looking Sienna when the music begins and then it’s go-time. She’s graceful, which I’m not, and her program includes a lot of waving arms and fancy footwork that I’m sure look ridiculous with my choppy movements, but I can only focus on remembering the choreography and not acing it. And staying upright. I almost bite it on the first jump, catching myself in the nick of time.
The next jump is the one I’m worried about and it’s coming up fast. I say a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening, then give it my best. I chuckle as I magically land it. I throw my hands overhead and then go into the spin.