“But you’re so close—”
I raise my hand. “There’s no point. We’ve tried it twenty times and I’m not getting it. I’m sorry I forced you out here. Any practice tonight isn’t going to stick enough for me to be confident enough to do it there. I’m wasting your time.”
“You’re not wasting my time—”
“Yes, I am!” I push him back, hating the proximity. “You should be back at the dorm. You should be icing whatever injury you’re clearly nursing and sleeping so you’re ready for practice tomorrow. Instead, you’re here watching me fail at something I should’ve learned weeks ago. You don’t have to be sunshine all the time and pretend you're happy to be here.”
He takes me in for a second, skating an inch closer.
“Who says I’m pretending? You’ve been the only good thing about this shitty day.”
I gulp, feeling his words all the way through my bones, hating that I feel the same way.
“You can do this move, Laura. You just need to focus instead of panicking every two seconds over it.”
I laugh bitterly. “That’s not what’s happening.”
“You sure? Because I’ve spent the last month watching you sabotage yourself. I understand perfectly what’s happening.”
“Then why’d you offer to help me if I’m such a lost cause?!” My voice echoes off the empty seats.
“Why do you think, Princess?” he fires back, a grin wide on his face.
Why do I think? I can’t answer that.
“But to clarify, you aren’t a lost cause. You’re doing incredible things for someone who only has a few weeks of experience. I think you’re—”
“Whatever we do tonight doesn’t change how I’m going to perform tomorrow.” I scrub my hand across my face, groaning in aggravation before pointing between the two of us. “This isn’t working, and I’m tired.”
“What if I don’t want to stop?”
“We need to.”
I skate toward the exit, but he cuts me off.
“Move, Scotty.”
“No.”
“I'm not doing this right now.” I try to go around him, but he mirrors my movement.
“Doing what? Actually talking about what's going on here?”
“There's nothing going on here!” I skate left. He blocks me. “You're teaching me to skate. That's it.”
“Bullshit.” He stays in front of me as I try to dodge right. “We both know that's bullshit.”
“What do you want me to say?” I shove at his chest, but he doesn't budge. “That I'm freaking out? That I'm terrified I'm going to humiliate myself tomorrow? That I've been having panic attacks every night this week thinking about it?”
“I want you to stop running!” His voice cracks with frustration. “You were perfectly fine to practice until I touched you. Just like every lesson. Every time things get real between us, you bolt. I'm so fucking tired of pretending we're just—”
“Just what?” I challenge. “What are we, Scotty? Because from where I'm standing, we're nothing.”
I know it’s not true as I say the words, but I need to get away from him. I need to stop this conversation before it goes any further. With my hands against his chest, I push as hard as I can, and he moves back.
I skate around him and head toward the rink exit.
Scotty tries to grab my hand, but I slip away and skate as fast as I can.
