by Sara Hubbard
“I’m beyond done.”
“Good.”
He drives down Main Street and turns on to the backroad that leads to Tillerman Rink.
“Be honest, it felt good to piss her off like that, didn’t it?” I bite my lip to stop myself from grinning.
His shakes his head at me, laughing. “It wasn’t awful.”
“Are you doing okay? For real? I know it’s really hard at first.”
“I’m a tough guy, Emily. I’ll be fine. We had more downs than ups, and honestly? That morning at Oz’s and Charlie’s, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. She caused so much drama. I couldn’t go a fucking day without her getting worked up about something or other. After I had that fight with Brad, it was like I was finally done. I am done. And I’m not looking back. She’s just not worth it.”
I shift in my seat, turning slightly so I can look at him more closely. Even under the dim light of the dash, I can see his face and his expressions clearly, and though he says he doesn’t lie, I know a little thing about saying things and meaning them. His sad eyes and frown speak volumes. He’s not doing nearly as well as he thinks he is. He might not think he’s lying to me, but I think he might be lying to himself.
Chapter 11
The doors are locked when we arrive at Tillerman. I should have dressed warmer, but the temperature has dropped a fair bit since I walked to Michael’s practice. I hunch my shoulders and shove my mitted hands into my pockets.
Michael bangs on the door, but Gus doesn’t come right away.
“Here,” Michael says, offering his black quilted jacket.
“Don’t be foolish. I’m fine.”
He takes it off anyway and wraps it around my shoulders, earning him a nasty glare and silent brownie points.
“Thanks.”
He doesn’t shiver. The cold doesn’t seem to affect him at all. I wonder if it’s because his heartrate is still up from hockey. They worked so damn hard I feel bad about making him come here after.
When Gus walks by, Michael raps his hand on the glass again. Gus hurries over, trying a handful of keys before he manages to find the right one. After we’re inside, I give Michael his jacket back, but he doesn’t put it on. It’s cold in the rink but not as cold as outside, and Michael usually practices in a sweater like the one he has on now.
“Hardest working kid at Saint Martha’s,” Gus says, making Michael blush.
“I don’t doubt it,” I add.
“Okay, okay,” he says, trying to brush off the compliment. “Thanks, Gus.”
“Sure thing. I’m shutting ’er down at midnight. Is that enough time?”
“God, I hope so,” I say.
We head straight to the benches near the entrance to the ice, and he pulls on his skates. He’s lacing them up when I slide off my colorful blade protectors, earning me a smile. They’re pretty fantastic.
I shove my feet into my new skates and start to lace them up.
“They’re gonna be stiff,” he says, pointing to my new skates. “When you get a chance, heat them up with a hairdryer, then put your foot in and lace it up. It’ll help mold them.”
“They feel really stiff, but I don’t remember skates feeling any different.”
“Try the hair dryer. It’ll help. You’ll probably have some blisters from tonight, though.”
I cluck my tongue. I hate blisters. If only I’d thought to bring an extra pair of socks. Maybe that would have helped.
He points to the small characters on the rainbow laces of my skates.
“Are they chickens?”
“Yeah, they are. Pretty cute, huh?”
He laughs, low and long. “The cutest.” He leans back to take them in fully.
We get on the ice just as the rink manager is putting away the Zamboni. Michael, skating backward, pulls me around the rink a few times. I weeble and wobble, but I stay upright. For me, that’s progress. After I’ve managed to get through a few laps without falling, he lets go and I try hard to do a few laps on my own. I fall a couple of times, but I feel like I move a little more fluidly. He stays in the middle, watching me. Until my arms start to helicopter and I’m about to fall. Then he’s at my side, reaching out to hold my hand. I like the way my hand feels in his. I like how comfortable things are between us. Brad hated holding hands. I’m not big on PDA, but I don’t mind holding hands or giving quick kisses. When a guy does this, it tells me he’s proud of me. I never got that from Brad. I was always afraid I wasn’t enough. When I voiced my insecurities, he’d roll his eyes and tell me not to be stupid.
I felt like that a lot with him. Stupid.
“Do you want to try stopping?”
“Ugh…”
“You got this. Just use the toe pick.”
“But I want to learn how to do a hockey stop.”
“Baby steps, Padawan.”
“Who’s Padawan?”
His shoulders shake with laughter, but he just waves off my question. “Come on, toe down. I got you.”
I frown at him but force the front of my left skate down and it bites into the ice, slowing me down. Instead of stopping, though, I wheel to the side until I turn a full circle. But, I do stop. Proud of myself, I shake my hands and hop. Not smart for someone with poor balance on skates. My left leg slides out from under and then my right. Michael tries to grab me before I hit the ice, but it’s too late. I lay there, my head throbbing as he kneels down beside me.
“Shit! Are you okay?”
Grimacing, I rub my head. “No.”
He licks his lips and sucks them in to stop from laughing.
“It’s not funny,” I say.
He holds out his hands to help me up.
“I think I’m going to stay here a moment.”
He sweeps his hand across the ice to collect some slush, then he holds it against where I hit my head. It feels nice, but it sure is cold. After lying on the ice, it’s not so jarring. “Thanks,” I say.
His dimple winks at me when his cheeks lift. As I study him, he also appears to be studying me. He seems to be more okay with direct eye contact than I am, and my stomach flutters in a way I don’t expect. In a way it shouldn’t. Old Emily, the one who believes in love at first sight and happily ever after, looks at him in a way that is anything but friendly. Oh, no, Emily. Stop thinking of him like that. He’s a friend, and he’s good to you. You like him, and everything is perfect between you two.
I shake off those feelings like a bad hangover. “I think I’m okay now,” I say quickly. I prop myself up on my elbows and shake off the headache before he helps me to my feet. “I think I’m getting better.”
“What did you say you’re doing for community service again?”
“I guess I’m helping a police officer teach underprivileged kids how to skate.”
“You nervous about it?”
My fleece has ridden up my back and I pull it down and dust off the ice and slush from my butt. “Yeah. Kind of. I’ve never been in trouble with the law before, and every time I meet with someone, like my probation officer, they look at me like I’m tainted. A problem that needs to be fixed. It makes feel embarrassed…and maybe ashamed. I don’t know. I still don’t feel awful about what I did, except that I got the wrong car.”
“Do what you have to do to get it over with. You never have to see them again. They don’t know you, so what they think doesn’t matter.”
“But it does.”
“How?”
“If I mess up or fail at my placement, then I go to jail.”
“You’re going to be fine. I doubt he expects you to be a figure skater or a professional hockey player. He just wants someone to help with the kids. And I’m sure it’s not about the hockey anyway.”
“My probation officer said something similar. You’re probably right.”
“I usually am.”
I let go of a laugh and playfully punch him on his shoulder.
“You’re going to be amazing.”’
I cran
e my neck to look into his pretty eyes. The florescent lighting make them light up. This guy…he knows exactly what to say and when to say it. How could Chloe not know what she had? How could she risk losing someone this great? What a fool. “Thanks, Michael. It means a lot to have someone say that.”
“I speak the truth, remember?”
“I remember.”
We skate for another hour. When I start to get brave and pick up speed, he skates beside me, keeping my pace. He kicks it up a notch, encouraging me to catch him. I’m too competitive to brush him off. I try hard, but even skating backward, away from me, I can’t keep up. In the end, I practically dive for him and I manage to grab his waist. He whips around to face me while we’re still racing forward but then I lean forward too far and he goes down, taking me with him. We fall to the ice, him on his back and me on top of him. He takes the brunt of the hit, letting out a grunt before air whooshes from his lungs. I hear a thud as his head slams onto the ice. As we slide along, I let out a yelp, and he groans while wincing. When we finally stop, I crawl up the length of him with my legs straddling his torso. I examine his head, his face only a foot from mine. His old bruises are still there, and he doesn’t need more.
I gasp, and my stomach turns. I feel so bad. “I’m so sorry. I meant to catch you, not tackle you.”
His arms find their way to my waist and his eyes become hungry. I forget to breathe, and I feel something stir in his pants underneath me, pressing hard into my pelvis. Oh, God, it’s been so long.
With a hoarse voice, he says, “You certainly caught me.”
“Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine.
“You must be cold,” I say softly.
“Not even close.”
I swallow hard and his arms slide up my back to rest on my shoulders. Michael is beautiful, maybe the most beautiful man I’ve ever known. Not just because of what he looks like, but because there is a softness inside of him, and he’s not afraid to share it. I’ll admit, in this moment, I want to crush my mouth to his and taste him. I can imagine how satisfying it would feel and how our bodies would respond. It wouldn’t stop there. He licks his lips, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. No, it wouldn’t stop there. I would want more. I wouldn’t be able to stop. The tugging sensation, the intense need stirring between my thighs would demand satisfaction.
The old me would have reacted. I would have done what I wanted, and damn the consequences. If it felt good in the moment, why not?
That hasn’t worked so well for me. And I like Michael. I could be close to him. It’s easy to be near him and also, surprisingly, to let down my guard around him. He has a way about him that causes me do this without even realizing what I’m doing. But I can’t slip into old habits. When Brad and I broke up, it became clear to me I have no idea how to be alone. I’m finally figuring out how to do this, and one slip will send me back to where I was before. Defining myself by a relationship and not as an individual. Being known as someone’s girlfriend.
No, I can’t give in to him. Not even as friends with benefits. That’s bullshit, anyway. If we had sex, things would change. I’ve been there before. Sex and friends only work until one of you finds someone else. Then you don’t just lose the sex, you lose the friend, too.
That alone is enough for me to stop this. He raises a hand to cup the back of my neck. The hair on my head stands on end and my body relaxes. I want to melt into him. To have him whisper my name as he pushes himself inside of me. His commanding nature and his full lips and strong hands and muscular body... I’m clenching my thighs just thinking about him inside of me. But there are more reasons to stop. He just broke up with his girlfriend. And I’m not trying to be his rebound.
Wow, the list of why we shouldn’t is endless.
His breath warms my face. His thumb strokes the back of my head as his fingers tangle in parts of my hair while the rest of it falls forward to shield us from the world like a golden curtain.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I say, breathless.
“Probably not,” he says. But he continues to move forward, his lips so close they’re like a feather tickling mine as he speaks.
Damn him, I want his lips on my mine so badly that later I’ll likely masturbate to the thought of him and me lying like this. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” I hold his wrists and urge him to stop touching me. His hands fall to his sides next to my legs, and I roll off him and into a sitting position. We sit on the ice, facing each other, his knees bent, his feet by me, and mine by him. I try to catch my breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t wanna be your rebound.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“You just broke up with Chloe. Days ago! How can it not be? Don’t forget I was in your position a couple months ago.”
“I like you,” he says, stunning me.
I smile and touch his leg, squeezing lightly. “I like you, too. It would be so easy to say yes to you. God, it would be easy! You don’t even know. Your body is insane.” I frown as I take in the length of him.
But he’s not laughing. He touches my leg, too, stroking my shin with his fingers.
“This is good. Our friendship. I don’t have a lot of close friends, and it’s so easy to be around you. I think we could be amazing friends, but that’s over once we have sex. I think you know that. And I can’t be in a relationship right now. I just can’t.”
He holds up his hands and grins. “Wow, who said anything about sex? Down girl, I’m a respectable guy.”
I shove his leg. “This isn’t funny. You’re not over Chloe. And I kind of like having you as a friend.”
“Do you still love him?” he asks, stunning me.
“Brad?”
He nods.
The wet ice works its way through my jeans and soaks into my underwear. It’s uncomfortable but I have no intention of getting up anytime soon.
“No, I don’t. Our relationship was a lie. The more I think about the little things...I realize I ignored all the signs.”
“How do you mean?”
I think about it a moment, unsure if I’m going to get my words right. “I thought we had a great relationship. He was nice to me, and Charlie actually liked him—that never happens.” I pull one of my feet up near my groin and massage the hard leather. I have a blister forming on my right heel but it doesn’t make me want to pull them off right now. Right now I’m kind of caught in the moment with Michael and the way he listens so thoughtfully. The way he absorbs and engages me. It’s worth my feet hurting a few moments longer. “He never held my hand,” I say.
He nods, knowingly, but does he understand?
“He never introduced me to his friends like he was proud I was his girlfriend. There was always a crowd of girls near him and his friends, and a few times they said some snotty stuff to me, and he…laughed.” I hitch a shoulder. “I just blew it off because he wasn’t the only one laughing. I assumed I was being sensitive. Only…I’m not an overly sensitive person. Most things roll off my back. Or I get over things quickly.”
“Sorry your ex was an ass.”
“I’m not sure you want to know what I think of your ex.”
He chuckles. “It won’t be anything I haven’t already heard. Your best friend liked your ex, but not a single one of mine liked Chloe.”
“I believe it.”
He laughs. “It’s nice to be around a girl that tells it like it is. I haven’t had that before.”
“Well, get used it. We’re friends now.”
“But not with benefits,” he says pointing a finger in my direction. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
Sigh. “Neither of us is ready for that.” I bet sex with him would be amazing. He seems like a pleaser, and what girl doesn’t want to sleep with a guy like that? I bite my lip. My lady parts are still swollen and tingling and chastising me for being such a Scrooge.
“Well, if you change your mind…”
/>
“You’ll be the first to know,” I say. I get up and start to skate to the benches. His skates shred ice as he follows behind me.
* * *
Michael and I meet up to skate a few times over the next week. He always insists on picking me up but he’s always late, so I end walking to the rink to wait from him after practice each time. Now, when Annie and Laura ask about me Michael, I shrug my shoulders and smile. Michael doesn’t seem to care if I let people think we’re together and we’re getting it on, and I like letting people come to their own conclusions. I might be moving on with my life, but I like that it probably irritates Brad and Chloe. Especially Chloe.
Word gets around quickly. It doesn’t occur to me to tell Charlie about the rumors that are flying around about me and Michael. I mean, they’re only rumors, right? But when I have class with her the following Wednesday, I realize that was a mistake.
She slides into the desk beside me and slides her book bag off her desk and onto the floor. With raised eyebrows she says, “Spill. Now.”
“What?” I say with a laugh.
“Are you seeing Michael?” The look on her face tells me she wants me to say no. I’m sure her reasons are the exact reason why I’m not.
“I see him all the time. Ozzie asked him to help me learn how not to fall on my ass in skates, remember?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
The other students file into the auditorium and a couple of girls stop by my seat and wait for me to move my legs so they can continue down the aisle. Once they pass, Charlie leans in closer and lowers her voice.
As I lean in halfway to meet her, I spy Chloe down front with one of her friends. They’re staring at me like I’ve sprouted horns. She whispers to her friend and, even from here, I swear I hear her cluck her tongue before they turn to face the front.
Yes. Especially Chloe.
“I hate her so much,” I say gripping my pencil so hard it snaps in half. “She screws around with my boyfriend, and she has the nerve to talk about me? Man, she has some balls.”
“I don’t know her well. Even at the cottages this summer, she didn’t really talk to me. She spent most of the time pouting because Michael was actually having fun with his friends. If she wasn’t the center of attention, she’d go off on her own.”
