My feet are rooted in place.
“No.” The words are hoarse as they come out my mouth. “I told you I don’t skate.”
“I looked you up,” Jack says, turning to look at me. “You were good. You were really good. The forums said you were on track to compete at the U.S. Figure Skating Championships before you quit out of nowhere.”
I close my eyes, and I don’t know what to say. Who I was then and who I am now are completely different people.
“Is this because of your dad?” he asks, his voice quiet and low.
I bite my lip so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if it started to bleed. It’s about him, but it’s so much more at the same time. It’s about how I craved acceptance and love from my father while leaving myself vulnerable for Bradley to swoop in, stealing every piece of me until I became an unrecognizable husk.
“Jack, I can’t.”
“Al, you can’t let him stop you from doing the things you love.” He’s right in front of me, but I keep my eyes shut, even after the scent of cinnamon floods my senses, because I know that if I look at him, I’ll cave. “Do what makesyouhappy.”
I count backward from ten in my head, willing myself to go in with him.Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.My anxiety lingers, beating a silent drum in my stomach, but I can still breathe.
“We don’t have to skate long,” Jack promises, his smooth voice tempting me to open my eyes. “Please, Al? If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.”
I choke on my laugh, shaking my head. “Do it for you?” I ask, amazed by his brazenness.
His dimples are showing as he looks down at me. “Yeah. We’re here to celebrate.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” I say, nodding my head, following him into the building.
I lean against the wall outside of the locker room, waiting while he retrieves our skates. When Jack steps through the doors a moment later, his smile widens. My fingers are itching to take my bag from him, but another part of me is afraid.
“What?” I ask, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“You’re still here,” he says, and I cross my arms over my chest, exhaling a shaky breath.
“Still here,” I say, giving him the best smile I can muster right now.
It feels like Jack’s staring into my soul right now, and it doesn’t matter how many walls I try to put up, he’s doing a damn good job of tearing them all down. “Al, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Jack says, and I’d believe him if he didn’t look like a kicked puppy while he said it, especially after the pep talk he gave to get me in the building.
“This is what you wanted to do, so as your friend, we’re going to not skate,” I say, marching toward the doors leading to the arena. My stubbornness helps me take them from him, but after tightening the laces, I falter when I pull the edge of my socks over them.
“What if I can’t do it?” I ask, glancing over at him.
Jack’s kind eyes find mine, and he reaches over to place his hand on top of mine.
“Then we just sit here, and we don’t skate.”
His hand is large and callused, but his touch is gentle, thawing the fear freezing me in place.
Jack is slow to stand, making the first move to step onto the polished ice, and I let muscle memory take over, gripping the boards as I try to decide if I’m actually going to take the final step to willingly skate in front of someone else.
And I dive straight into the deep end, trying not to feel like I’ve been stripped naked and shoved into a crowded room.
After a quick lap, I feel myself loosening up, and the tension seeps from my body. Jack skates over to me, an easy smile on his face that I do my best to return.
“Wanna race?” he asks, his lips quirking into a smirk, and I snort.
“And get my ass kicked? No thanks.”
“C’mon, you know you want to,” Jack says, turning to skate backward in front of me at a leisurely pace.
“Do I? You already got me out here, so can’t you just be happy with that accomplishment?” I ask, wondering what he would say if he knew how many mornings I’ve spent sitting in the bleachers trying to make myself come out here.
