“I’m not finished!” Elliot shrieks, but his position—ass in the air, face somewhere around Gerard’s lower back—somewhatundermines his authority. “They need to understand the gravity of their incompetence! You weresupposedto win!”
What happens next is possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Elliot, in his fury, starts pounding his fists against the only thing he can reach—Gerard’s spandex-covered ass. But instead of having any effect, each punch only makes Gerard’s glutes jiggle and bounce like Jello molds.
“Holy shit,” I wheeze, grabbing Jackson’s arm. “He’s playing Gerard’s ass like bongos!”
“Gerard Anthony Gunnarson, you put me down thisinstant!” Elliot demands between strikes. “I have valid criticisms of their scoring methodology!”
“Keep going, babe,” Gerard calls over his shoulder. “The massage feels nice!”
The entire rink loses it. People double over laughing,capturing every second of Elliot’s bongo solo on Gerard’s ass with their phones. Even the judges have relaxed now that the immediate threat of death-by-Elliot has passed.
“This is quality content,” Sarah Piper shouts from somewhere in the crowd. “The Ice Queen could never!”
Elliot must hear her because his drumming intensifies. “Don’t you dare compare me to that amateur blogger! I’m making a legitimate point here!”
“Sure you are, baby,” Gerard says. “Wave bye to everyone!”
“I will not wave! I will sue! I will—” Whatever threat Elliot is about to make gets cut off as Gerard pushes through the doors and heads out into the parking lot.
“A shame we didn’t win,” Jackson says quietly.
I shrug, trying not to let my disappointment show. It was a long shot, but I had a smidge of hope.
“Does anyone want to go see a movie with me?” Nathan asks. “I need new memories to replace the ones from tonight.”
“You did great,” I tell him, trying not to laugh. “Really sold the whole thing.”
“I wasn’t selling anything! Iwasdying!” He shudders. “Do you know how close my face was to his…to that…?”
“We all saw, buddy.”
“I can still smell the spandex,” Nathan whispers, and now I do laugh.
The crowd disperses, and Jackson and I return our skates. As we push through the exit doors, I hear a distant shriek that sounds suspiciously like Elliot yelling something about proper scoring rubrics.
“Think Gerard needs backup?” Jackson asks.
“Nah. He’s probably already distracting Elliot with promises of letting him toss his salad or something.” The cold night air chills me to the bone the further we walk through the parking lot, quenching the burning within me.
What happened in that bathroom was reckless and stupid, exactly the kind of thing I shouldn’t have done with Jackson. He deserves better than quick fumbles in dirty stalls. He deserves romance and real dates and all the shit I don’t know how to give.
But when we stop in front of my car, and he kisses me on the cheek and says, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Drew,” I let myself fleetingly believe that this is real, and it doesn’t have an expiration date. At least until the wet spot in my tights reminds me that I’m the same fuck-up I’ve always been, taking what I want without thinking about the consequences.
ICE QUEEN BLOG POST #3
Wheels, Squeals, and Sexual Reveals: A Complete Breakdown of Spinfinity’s Roller Disco Competition
Posted by The Ice Queen | February 15th | 7:02 AM
Hey there, puck bunnies! Ice Queen here, your go-to gal for the coolest takes on all things Barracudas.
I hope you’ve recovered from the secondhand embarrassment that was the roller disco competition at Spinfinity Roller Rink, because I certainly haven’t. My retinas are still burning from the assault of spandex, and my ears may never recover from all the screaming. I suffered for you, though, because someone needs to tell the unvarnished truth about what went down.
Let’s start with our scoring system. Each couple will be rated in three categories:
Homoeroticism (1-5 flames )
