“Holding,” I say proudly.
He grins. “You’re going to leave here a pro.”
I laugh, and his eyes shine. “I guess when you have a good teacher, you can learn anything.”
“I wish we had an empty rink… I could teach you even more.”
“Guess I’ll have to stick to you explaining it to me, then. Which, I’ll be honest, isn’t so terrible.”
“No?”
I rest my chin on my fist. “You have a nice voice.”
His cheeks turn a little pink and he looks away.
“You do… too,” he says carefully. Almost unsure. Like he doesn’t know if I’m flirting—I totally am—and he isn’t sure how to respond to it.
Unlike him, I have no problem saying what’s on my mind. I can tell he’s a little more reserved. Thinks about what he says before he says it. That’s not me.
“Are you flirting with me, Roman Callahan?”
His gaze finds mine again. “Are you?”
“Maybe.”
He licks his lips and nods. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”
“It doesn’t,” he says quickly.
“Good to know.”
I am very open about who I am. I am confident. If I like someone, I make it known. Not everyone is like that and not everyone likes it. I’m well aware of this because I’ve offended more people than I’ve impressed.
“How are you enjoying being here?” he asks.
I look around. “It’s amazing. The energy is crazy. It’s fun seeing so many people in their element. I can’t wait to perform, though.”
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
“Not at all.”
“How?”
“I’m confident in my routine.”
Nodding, he says, “That makes sense. I think if games were more routine, I wouldn’t get so nervous.”
“What makes you nervous?” I ask. “That you’ll mess up?”
“Yeah, kind of. But mostly because people are watching and fans always have a lot to say.”
“You have to ignore them.”
“I do. Well, mostly. I try. I still have some days when it’s hard.”
“Do you have anyone here with you?” I ask.
“No, I was called in last-minute, so my parents weren’t able to come. But they’re watching my dog for me, so it worked out.”
