“I guess I could have trusted you to tell me, but…old habits,” he says, moving to the other foot.
“I have extra socks in my car if they don’t fit. And some leg warmers.” I always have a bag in there with the layers and blankets needed for a winter football game.
“Glad to hear you’re prepared…but it looks like these fit.”
“I’m sorry I’m nervous. I’ve never skated before, and I don’t like being unprepared,” I explain, but it does nothing to calm my nerves.
“I should have given more details, but I don’t know how fast we’ll end up going, and the level of freezing diminishes the more you move.”
Being cold was my fear when I got here, but when Noah gently places his hand on my knee to let me know he’s done before moving on to his own skates, I feel flushed, and debate stripping down to my t-shirt.
“How old were you when you learned how to skate?”
“Three.” He smiles. “I’d like to think I loved it instantly, but my mom says it was like pulling teeth to bring me, until I got the hang of it.”
“How come you kept going? Or…you know, why did they keep bringing you?”
“My dad loved it. They never made me skate, but my dad signed up to help with my class before the session started, so I was going to go with him every week anyway, and I guess the only thing worse than falling on my ass was watching other people do it without me.”
“And the rest is history,” I tease.
“If you gloss over the years of training and 5:30 am practices and driving to away games and?—”
“I thought you were trying to convince me to do this?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I loved every minute of it?”
“No,” I say without hesitation.
“You think I would lie to you?”
Part of me wants to say no. He keeps saying he doesn’t do relationships, and my college hockey research has dug up a lot of dirt on him and his reputation, but he’s nearly perfect whenever I spend time with him. And he dotes on his sister. He doesn’t seem like the type to lie. He seems like the kind of guy you fall for. Hard and fast and never recover. Which is why I say, “Definitely,” then try to stand.
“Woah, easy there.” Noah stands and catches me before I make it up.
“Put me in, Coach.” I try to sound eager, but it’s more because I need to get away from his hands on me.
“Come on.” He chuckles, shaking his head, before stepping onto the ice and extending his hands to hold mine. I freeze as soon as they touch, wishing I had gloves, because the sparks go straight from my fingers to my core. Noah assumes it’s fear that stops me.
“I’ve got you, Savannah. I promise. You ready?”
I swallow and nod, but this time, I need to taper my eagerness, not fake it.
Chapter Thirteen
Noah
Peaches
I should have brought the practice towers. They’re in storage, because the school has family skate during parents’ weekend, and we use them for drills sometimes, but I forgot them. And then I thought I wouldn’t need them, because Savannah looked scared, and probably trusted me to keep her up more than an inanimate object. Then I didn’t want to let her go.
We do a few laps with me going backwards, holding both her hands in mine. Then I only hold one hand, putting my palm on the small of her back whenever she seems to be losing her balance, which really isn’t often enough.
By the time I skate backwards in front of her again, this time not holding her at all, I almost want her to stumble, so I could have an excuse to reach out for her. Not that I want Savannah to fall, but I really want to catch her.
“Oh my God! I’m doing it! I’m skating!”
The smile on Savannah’s face is terrified, excited, and proud. I immediately take back any wishes for anything that would dampen that smile.
