“You’re still good with him.”
“You think?”
“Yes. He adores you.”
Jeremy smiles again. “There is something about showing someone who’s never skated before how much fun this is when competition isn’t the goal. Especially the little ones.”
“It is fun,” Sergio agrees. “More fun than I ever thought it would be … but again, maybe that’s because of you.”
Jeremy grabs both of Sergio’s hands and spins them around again, bringing them to a stop in the center of the rink.
“Smooth,” he says. There’s a little twinkle in his eyes.
“So tell me, was your first coach as handsome as you are?”
“No.” Jeremy laughs, causing his shoulders to bounce. “The opposite. My first coach was a very stern, older German woman named Mrs. B.”
“I guess it’s safe to say she’s not what drew you to the sport.”
“Definitely not.” He shakes his head and looks up towards the ceiling.
“Then what was it?”
“That got me to want to skate?”
“Yeah.”
Jeremy spins them around again and cuts a deep inside edge with his blade to give them a boost of momentum. “I’m not sure I ever necessarily did.”
Sergio scrunches his face, wondering how someone like Jeremy, with all of his natural talent, could have such an answer. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I obviously love it, and I’m glad my dad took me to the rink, but believe me, this is not what he had in mind for me when we stepped into the pro shop to buy me gear.”
“Ahh.” Sergio nods his head yes in understanding. “He wanted you to be a hockey player.”
Jeremy points at him with his free hand. “Got it on your first try.”
“What can I say, I’m perceptive.”
“Clearly.” He takes a deep breath. “But yeah, let’s just say my father went through a whole swirl of emotions the moment I pointed at the figure skaters on the ice instead of the hockey players and declared that’s what I wanted to be.”
“I’m assuming he got over hisfeelingsabout that at some point.”
“He didn’t really have much of a choice.” He lets go of Sergio’s hand and loops around, then spins off in the other direction, leaving Sergio no other option but to skate after him the best he can.
When he eventually catches him, clumsily employing a snowplow stop to slow himself, he asks, “What was it about the figure skaters you liked back then that made you say no to your dad’s wishes?”
“Honestly?” Jeremy runs his hand through his hair. “I was a kid. I was more impressed with how high they could jump and how fast they could spin.” He shrugs his shoulders, then grabs hold of Sergio’s hand and begins to skate again, pulling Sergio along with him. “Although, looking back now, I may have made the wrong choice.”
“I’m not sure hockey would have been any better for your situation.”
“No, probably not.” Jeremy laughs again. “But …” He turns to smirk at Sergio. “The thought of being chased around the ice and smashed up against the glass by a bunch of men issomething young me couldn’t have conceived at the time as being desirable.”
Sergio’s stomach drops. “Is that something you’d rather have now?”
“No.” Jeremy slows them to a stop. “One man is enough for me.”
“One man like me?”
