It was a part of his history that had never made it into the many profiles he’d done over the years.
“Damn straight,” Ben said as he did a little bunny hop. “I got conned into figure skating for about a year and a half. I didn’t love it but I was really fucking good, so they wouldn’t let me quit.”
I sputtered my exasperation at his humble brag.
“I loved going fast. I thought about trying hockey, but then I saw speed skating and I was agoner,” Ben continued. “Addicted at minute one.”
I realized that he’d probably just sent young Nathan down the same path.
“You like this performance?” Ben teased, doing exaggerated backward wiggles. “Totally worthy of the gold.”
It was a routine for a baby skater, with one foot glides, tap toe jumps, and lots of what I assumed was vamping to give his partner time to show off. I wasn’t surprised that he was graceful, but it wasclear that his skating skills now outpaced the choreography and he was dumbing himself down.
“How old were you?”
“I was seven, my partner was six.” He did some forward crossovers. “Oh, this is the part coming up where we did a waist lift.”
“Atsevenyears old?”
He chuckled. “I was strong for my age and Bella weighed about twenty pounds total. A bent arms lift, not over the head. Our coach really pushed us.”
I snorted. “A pushy coach? Wow, I’m shocked.”
“Get over here, lemme see if I’ve still got it.” Ben reached out to me.
I wondered if I physically recoiled from him.
“Oh, no way, I’m good,” I replied quickly, because I didn’t want to be reminded of how it felt to have Ben’s strong hands gripping my waist.
“C’mon,” he pleaded.
He attempted a toe loop that I could tell wasn’t in the original program because he nearly fell on his ass.
“This is the part where it’s supposed to happen,” he mimed, holding someone in front of him and lifting ever so slightly while eyeballing me. “I could totally do it. You’re tiny.”
The old me would’ve pocketed the throwaway comment to be dissected later, because thetword was always my goal. Now I knew that the scale didn’t reflect anything about my overall health. Or worthiness.
“I’m heavier than I look.”
“Okay, biceps,” he said admiringly as he did easy two-legged spins. “I see those muscles. But I still think you’re basically a featherin human form. So let me try.” He paused. “Wait, have you ever done a lift?”
“Yes.” I frowned at him. “OfcourseI have.”
Only goofing around with Zoey, but still. It counted.
“I don’t believe you,” he teased. “I don’t think you have the skills to be a partner, Miss Independent.”
“Negging doesn’t work on me,” I said as I skated over to him and snowplowed a thin layer of ice at his skates. I turned around in front of him and we moved in tandem. “Fine. Lift me.”
I didn’t have to ask him twice.
“Yes!Ready? Keep your core tight,” he said as he skated behind me.
I gawked at him over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, are youseriouslymansplaining figure skating to me?”
“Sorry, just a safety precaution. Okay, let’s do this.”
Celine hit some high notes right as I felt Ben’s surprisingly warm palms close around my waist. I’d already peeled off my fleece, leaving just a thin Lycra layer between my skin and Ben’s hands. When he connected I jumped as if he’d singed me.
