"Much." The hoodie swallowed me completely, and I loved it. "Now you're the one who's going to freeze."
"Come here." His hands found my waist under the hoodie.
He skated backward, pulling me with him. We had the outdoor rink to ourselves.
Our bodies thudded together as he stopped at center ice. I glided into him and we came to a stop under the old scoreboard."Wait right there,” Beck said. He skated backward, looking at me until he reached the announcer’s booth. He leanedinside. The floodlights at the corners of the ice surface flickered before going dark.
"Look up." He shouted and skated back, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned against him to look at the sky. It was a rare clear night in Chance Rapids and the moon seemed bigger than usual.
"Wow. That's huge."
"It's a supermoon. They call it the Cold Moon." His warm breath tickled my earlobe.
"It's brighter than the floodlights." Our breathing had synced. Carefully turning so I didn't slip out of his embrace, I tilted my head back to look up at him. He kissed me. His lips were warm, but tender. We took our time together under the moon, there was no rush, no end game. That's when I knew I loved Beck.
When we glided apart, his eyes shimmered. "Are you alright?" I pulled off my mitten to swipe the tear from his eye.
"I used to come here and bang pucks," Beck whispered. "When Dad was drinking. It's where I came when I needed to think."
He never talked about his life at home, or his dad, who had died in a car crash years earlier. A DUI that was his fault.
"It's where I perfected my slapshot."
"I'm sorry you had to go through all that."
He shrugged and kissed me again. "I want some good memories here. That's why I brought you here.”
“It’s a beautiful night.”
His hands dropped to hold mine. “There's one more thing I want to show you, but you have to stand over there." He pointed to the hash marks at the far end.
"Why?"
"Don't ask questions, Clara Dalton. Skate your gorgeous ass over there, but give me my hoodie first."
He was acting weird. Shivering the instant I removed the hoodie, I tossed it to him, rubbing my arms with my thin gloves.
"Where?" I shouted as I skated toward the bleacher side of the rink.
"Right there. Stop,” he shouted.
I skidded to a stop.
"Stand like this." His voice echoed off the cliffs at the far end of the lake. He struck a pose with one arm up and the other wrapped around his waist. "And look down at the ice."
It was the opening pose to my short program.
Beck had watched my practices, but I hadn't realized he'd committed any part of it, namely the opening pose, to memory. I settled into the familiar position, and the speakers crackled. Swan Lake floated through the chilly night air.
He didn't have to tell me anything else. My body went into autopilot, and the stars whizzed in my peripheral vision as I glided through the program: the final jump, the lutz at the crescendo of the piece. This was crappy outdoor ice, and I was wearing jeans, but fueled with adrenaline and love, I reached my toe-pick back and launched into a perfect triple lutz.
Beck screamed from the booth. "Wooohoooo. That's what I'm talking about."
He skated toward me at full speed, scooped me into his arms, and planted a kiss on my lips. This one was aggressive. I moaned into his mouth as a surge of desire pulsed through me. The lutz, the moon, the love of my life holding me in his arms - it was the best night of my life. Beck's legs worked beneath me as he skated across the rink. I trusted him completely, and leaned into the warmth of his chest as the wind whipped through my hair.
He delivered me to the boards, setting me down gently on top of them. I wrapped my legs around him, the blades of my skates clinking together behind his back.
"I love you, Beck."
