A nearly naked man that I suddenly worry is dead, because why else is there a man lying on the ice without his clothes on? I’m only a bit settled by not seeing any sign of blood, because again, why would a man be lying on the ice?
Gliding towards where he lies, there’s a strange tugging feeling deep within me, but I can’t seem to pinpoint where it’s coming from.
Worried about what’s happening to my body, and the possibly dead body, I have to get a hold of the situation. I’m not new to dealing with weird men, I know how to talk to guys like him. Getting closer on the ice, I speak loudly, hoping to rouse the man. “Hey you! What are you doin’?”Yes, that is masterful, Anya.
The obscenely large man stirs a bit. He lifts his head, his eyes looking confused like when you nap too hard and forget your entire life for a minute upon waking. He’s beautiful.
When consciousness creeps back into his features, an even more perplexed look crosses his face before his eyes widen in something that looks like awe. My heart stutters.Oh my gosh, was that a heart palpitation? What is wrong with me?
I thought he was beautiful mid-sleep on the ice—nearly naked, mind you—but when a brilliant smile overtakes his face, I find myself unable to breathe.
Shaking myself from the stupor he’s caused me to fall into, I ask, “Who are you and why on earth are you sleeping on my ice?”
Can someone get hypothermia from lying on the ice? How long has he been in here?
Completely unperturbed by my questions, he moves into a seated position, crossing his massive legs as he stretches his arms high above his head. I unabashedly allow my eyes to trail every inch of his ridiculously muscled body. This man is built like a military tank, making it hard not to drool.
Maybe there’s something to be said about the male species after all.
When my eyes make it back to his face, there is an ornery and knowing smile plastered where his sleepy grin had previously been.
Blushing, I divert my eyes and suddenly find the laces of my ice skates very interesting as he gracefully climbs to his feet. Massive feet that walk smoothly, into my line of sight, not slipping in the slightest.
I consider questioning him again, but he lifts my chin until our eyes meet. I don’t understand why my body has the strange desire to melt into his touch, craving more. I’m not used to being touched like this, or the intensity in his eyes.
Eyes that are so black I can’t find his pupils even with my eyes volleying between each of his. My knees buckle under the intensity I find in them. He catches me by the small of my back, holding my body against his. Where his hand lies, and our bodies touch, it feels like thousands of tiny static electricity zaps pricking at my skin.
A gasp escapes me and I’m feeling an array of things I’ve never felt before, and don’t think I could describe them if I had too. They’re all flying through my body so quickly in rapid succession, that I don’t have time to even process them. My type A brain wants to freak out, but there’s something deep within me telling me to just go with the flow for once in my freaking life.
I swear he can read my mind because the moment I have the thought, he leans further into me and tentatively sweeps his lips across mine.
In an act completely unlike myself, I swing my arms around his neck, pulling his face towards mine, and kiss him like my life depends on it.
None of this is logical in any way, but I can’t find it in me to care at all. Kissing him feels like maybe hockey isn’t the only thing I could have in the world. Maybe my uncertain future doesn’t look so bad with someone like him as part of it.
What’s happening to me?!
That weird tugging within me that pulled me towards him now feels like it’s wrapping around us, trying desperately to keep us together. It’s exhilarating and terrifying and I realize that the world around me smells oddly like warm gingerbread cookies.
When our lips finally part, we’re both panting, and the rational part of my brain finally overrides whatever just happened. I shove his chest, jerkily skating backwards away from him.
The distance feels strangely painful, like now that I’ve kissed him, I can’t stand to be without him. The myriad of emotions flying through my body threatens to send me into a panic. My breaths come quicker. I can feel myself starting to lose control as a spiral works to form.
Without notice, he rushes me and wraps me in a secure embrace as he takes long, dramatic breaths in and out. My body is able to do what my mind hasn’t caught on to yet, and my breathing matches his as my heart rate slows away from the anxiety attack.
“Thank you,” I say at the same time he apologizes.
Searching my brain for the reason he apologized, I give up and ask, “Why are you sorry?”
He rests his chin on top of my head, and the movement settles something within me, bringing an otherworldly level of peace. “For touching you without your permission, but I didn’t know what to do.”
I shake my head against him. He’s still wrapped around me, and I can’t find a reason to pull away. “It’s not like you accosted me. You calmed me. Thank you.”
Afraid to feel the same pain of being without him that I experienced after our kiss, I allow myself to stand here and hold this stranger that makes me feel . . .alive.
“So, is there any chance I could take you to dinner?” he asks almost sheepishly.
Gently pulling myself out of his embrace, I skate away from him again, reminding myself that there’s something weird happening here. “I don’t know. Are you gonna tell me why you snuck into my rink? And while you’re at it, why you were sleeping naked on the ice?” I ask, skating slow circles around him. His head remains on a swivel, not taking his eyes off mine.
