My feet ache from a couple hours on the ice, but it's a good kind of pain, the good feeling of using my muscles as they're meant to be used. My feet are killing me after showing James the ropes all evening. He was scared stiff at first, but now he's not half bad on skates. Not that I'd ever admit that to him. The man's got a big enough ego as it is.
We complete another loop, and my feet are screaming for a break. James has to be dying right now. I glance at James's slightly wobbly, yet adorable ankles.
WTF! Where did that come from?"I think that's enough for tonight. Before you push your luck too far."
James glances at me, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "I was just getting the hang of it."
"Which is exactly when accidents happen. Overconfidence is the enemy of ice skating beginners."God I sound just like my mother right now; authoritative and instructional.
"Fine," he concedes. "At least I didn't fall. Small victories."
"That's because of my good teaching, not your natural grace." I don't mean it harshly. Something about spending these last few hours together has made things less tense between us.
"You are a surprisingly good teacher," he says as we skate toward the exit. "Patient."
I shrug, uncomfortable with the compliment. "It's just physics. Center of gravity, momentum, and friction coefficients."
"Right. Just physics." He tilts his head slightly. "You're really good at it, you know. Been skating your whole life?" A pause, then quieter: "You don't look like you enjoy it much, though."
Letting out a slow breath I try to put my answer into words. How do I explain my life to someone who didn't live in that world, what it was like growing up as a parent's project, not their child?
"I don't hate it, but it was something else I didn't have a choice in. Learning to skate was just another box to check in proper Huntington upbringing."
James is quiet for a moment, his hands still gripping my forearm for stability. "I've only been to a skating arena once before tonight. Group home field trip when I was twelve."
The casual mention of a group home comes out of nowhere. James rarely shares personal details. "Group home?"
"Foster care," he clarifies, eyes fixed on the ice ahead. "They took us to a rink once, but they didn't have skates in my size." He smirks when he admits this, glancing down briefly before meeting my eyes again. "So I watched."
My gaze follows his without thinking, down to his feet, which are frankly massive, and suddenly the joke lands.
Heat creeps up my neck as my brain supplies exactly what joke he's making about shoe sizes.Right. Not thinking about the size of his... Absolutely not.
Then sentiment attempts a hostile takeover. I can picture a younger James, already tall and lanky, standing on the sidelines while others enjoyed themselves. It hits me how different our childhoods were, me with my fancy private lessons and skates made for me.
"They never have the right sizes for the… um… tall kids.” Now I'm desperately trying to redirect my brain away from shoe size correlations. "I started bringing my own when I was fourteen because the rentals never fit right."
Before we can continue, Gavin appears beside us, spraying ice as he stops. "Dudes! Progress report!" He claps James on the shoulder, nearly toppling him. "James, you're skating! Like, moving and everything!"
"Your observational skills continue to amaze," James deadpans as I steady him again.
"All thanks to Professor Huntington here," Gavin continues, unperturbed. "You guys are like some buddy movie. 'Grumpy learns to skate, finds friendship along the way.'"
My eyes roll so hard, and I again find myself explaining how skating works.. "It's basic physics, not friendship. Center of gravity, momentum?—"
"Uh-huh," Gavin interrupts me and grins. "Tell that to your hands, dude."
We both realize that James is still gripping my forearm while my other hand rests lightly at his waist for stability. We let go immediately, creating enough distance between us that James wobbles.
"Drew says we're wrapping up in ten," Gavin lets us know, mercifully changing the subject. "Emily just arrived and has plans for us after."
As if summoned, Emily appears at the rink entrance, waving enthusiastically as Drew skates over to greet her. Even from here, it's clear they're totally into each other. Drew's entire face softens as Emily rises slightly on her toes to kiss him.
"They're disgustingly perfect together, aren't they?"
"They make it look easy," James agrees, his tone unexpectedly wistful.
"Nothing about relationships is easy." I cringe thinking about how perfect my parents look to everyone else and how messed up things really are at home.
