Jonah insists we drop him off at the front of his subdivision. I don’t think he wants his mom to meet us. Honestly, in the same shoes, I wouldn’t either. I don’t know how he’s going to explain the rips in the knees of his jeans, much less the huge muddy grass stain on his butt.
Jonah leans down next to my open passenger side window. “Thanks for tonight. I haven’t had that much fun since … I don’t even remember.”
I look up at Jonah, and my heart feels like I’m still ice blocking down the hill.
“Stick around, kid,” Mack says. “This is only the beginning of the hijinks and shenanigans that you are about to experience in Phoenix.”
We watch Jonah—and his wet butt—walk down the street to the first house on the right. Once he disappears inside, Mack fires up the engine.
“So, can we revisit the fuchsia prom dress idea now?” Mack says.
“Mack!” I smack her shoulder.
“What? Just because my love life is one step up from a dumpster fire, doesn’t mean yours should be. Have some fun, will ya? I’m telling you, this adulting thing is not what they promised it would be.”
* * *
It’s almost midnight by the time I finally get back to my house. I sneak in the front door, my derby girl clothes hidden in my backpack. The lights and TV are on, but my mom is passed out cold on the couch. Her bottle of muscle relaxants is on the coffee table. Her heating pad has slipped off her back onto the floor. I turn everything off and tiptoe into the kitchen to hang up my keys—my signal to Mom that I’m home so she won’t have to climb up the stairs to check. There’s a note hooked to my key peg.
Livy—DON’T let me oversleep. I have to open the rink at 9:00 a.m. for the Chois.
When I get upstairs, I cram the bag with my sweaty, dirty, grassy derby clothes in the back of my closet and set my clock for 8:00 a.m. After I make sure Mom is out the door, I plan to sleep until at least noon. It’s close to one by the time I get most of the fuchsia dye scrubbed out of my hair. I face-plant into bed, but my brain won’t shut up. It keeps replaying the evening, down to the tiniest details. The smell of pine. The taste of Pepsi. The buzz in my stomach when Jonah’s lips moved against the skin of my palm. Warm fingers brushing the side of my neck. The sound of Jonah’s laugh at the bottom of the hill. Sleep slowly pulls me under, but not without a parting shot of Jonah’s beautiful face, his eyes closed. His lips available. And this time, Mack doesn’t interrupt us.
Chapter 5
Mom—You rest. I’ll let the Chois in. I’m on at 11:30 anyway. ~O
It’s after nine thirty before the Chois arrive. Mr. Choi bursts through the front door and stomps inside. My heart hiccups a little when Jonah drags in behind him, rubbing his temples. I sit at Table #1, pretending I’m doing homework. I’ve read the same paragraph three times now. Mr. Choi walks by my table, nods at me, and then pulls up short. My hair. I run a hand through it, trying to flatten some of what’s left of the fuchsia spikes. Jonah catches my eye, and his face lights up.
“Good morning, Mr. Choi.” I pretend like I’ve gotten more than thirty minutes of quality sleep. “I was wondering if you guys were coming in this morning after all. You did say nine, right?”
“Yes, I did. I wish Jonah had your work ethic, Olivia.” Mr. Choi turns to Jonah, and the smile on Jonah’s face extinguishes. “I can tell you what, though. You won’t be hanging out with that Brandon kid again if this is how you’re going to be the next day.”
Jonah shoots me a panicked look. He doesn’t need to. Does he think I’m going to blow the chance for a repeat?
“Is there anything you need, Mr. Choi, before you guys start your training?” I give him a big smile, trying to distract him from Jonah, who has slinked off to the locker room to change.
“No, we’re fine. Thanks.”
I’m bummed that Mr. Choi doesn’t ask me to keep count today during the warm-up. Now I have to keep making myself look at my homework instead. Meanwhile, Jonah skates like Egg did the time he had food poisoning the night before our competition in Anaheim. Jonah is slow. His crossovers are sloppy.
Mr. Choi mutters what is probably a Korean swear word and throws his clipboard on top of the nearest table. “What are you doing, son?”
“Skating!” Jonah yells back.
Jonah glides over to the wall in front of his dad. I can’t hear what they are saying, but from the look on Jonah’s face, his dad is ripping him a new one. Mr. Choi snatches the clipboard off the table and storms toward me. I drop my head and reread the same paragraph for the hundredth time.
“Olivia, do you have any coffee?”
“No, sir. I don’t have a food handler’s license to work in the snack bar.” Also, I have no clue how to make coffee.
“Jonah!” Mr. Choi gestures at him to come to our table.
Mr. Choi flips through the papers on his clipboard until Jonah slides into the seat across from me. Jonah strips off his gloves. Some of last night’s dreams steam into my brain as Jonah unzips the top of his skinsuit several inches to release some of the heat trapped underneath. A small cross on a fine-chained gold necklace sits over his breastbone. It pulses as Jonah tries to catch his breath.
“Eat some eggs, and then get back out on the ice.” Mr. Choi smacks the clipboard down between us like a chaperone. “I’m going to Starbucks. Do not waste your training time while I’m gone.”
After Mr. Choi stomps out the front door, I slide the soft-sided cooler to Jonah.
“I’m going to hurl if I eat those.” Jonah pushes the cooler back to my side of the table. “I have got the worst sugar-caffeine hangover ever. I feel like there’s an elephant standing on my chest. Why’d you let me do that last night? Maybe I’m dehydrated from the caffeine.”
“Jonah. It was one soda. Half a soda at that.”
“I know, but I still couldn’t sleep last night.”
I unzip the cooler and hand Jonah his water bottle, accidentally brushing his hand at the same time. It sends a crackle of lightning up my arm. “We were that fun?”
Jonah chugs half the bottle before answering, “Yes.”
“So, I have to know exactly how ‘hanging with Brandon’ resulted in your jeans getting ripped and muddy.”
Jonah bites his bottom lip. “We were goofing around with Brandon’s dog in the backyard, and I tripped over a sprinkler head or two. And it went downhill from there. Yeah.”
“I hope you delivered that with more conviction than you just did, especially as I don’t think Brandon has ever mentioned owning a dog. Dude, you kind of suck at being a normal teen.”
Jonah reaches his hand across the table. His long fingers hook underneath the cuff of my Ice Dreams jacket and tug.
“Then come be extra with me.” Jonah’s fingers fan out around my wrist. Surely he can feel the spike of my pulse. “Skate with me. For a little bit.” He pulls me to a stand. “Please.”
“Challenge accepted.”
I put my skates on in record time. Jonah’s already back on the ice making a slow loop when I skate up next to him on the outside. I dip low and mimic his skating.