I looked down at it in my lap and noticed that printed in big capitals was the name Scott and under it read #29.
“My birthday is the 29th,” I told him, and then internally slapped myself for saying something so dumb, like that was something we had in common or something.
But he didn’t make fun of me or act weird over it. He just gave me a bright smile. “My lucky number.”
At Tenny Park, we sat on a bench together and laced up our skates.
“I always tie up my left skate first,” he told me. “It’s my one superstition… that and my lucky undies,” he joked.
I arched an eyebrow at him, “You really have lucky undies?”
Red entered his cheeks, and I was shocked that this human actually got embarrassed, I was thinking it didn’t happen to him. He had a way of always seeming so sure of himself, I was envious of it.
“Change of subject,” he said. “You have any superstitions?”
“I do,” I confirmed. “I have to warm up the exact same every day. And I have to do my double axel in the exact same spot every time. It drives my coach crazy.”
“Where’s that?”
“On the bleacher side of the blue line. The blue line furthest from the zam doors. I set up with crossovers kind of loosely around center ice.”
He nodded and regarded me with a look that said he was impressed, “Now every time I’m running drills by that spot, I’ll think of you landing a triple axel right there for me,” he smiled.
I rolled my eyes, “yeah, triple axel, sure,” I joked. “Because like three girls in the whole world can do that.”
“Well, whatever you do out there is pretty damn impressive to me.”
“I can’t believe you’ve watched our side,” I said.
“I don’t watch your side, I watch you,” he pointed out.
Those words really took me for a loop. I guess he could see the surprise on my face, because he let out a chuckle.
He looked out to the ice that stretched before us then. “I really love it out here,” he said. “Like a lot more than the regular rink. When I’m old I’m going to build a huge rink in my backyard.” He made a gesture with his arms to emphasize how big he wanted it. “I’ll have all my friends over and have a huge tournament party.”
“That sounds fun,” I mused. I couldn't help but think of how different we were. I wouldn’t have anyone to invite. But I guess that could be the difference between playing a sport with friends versus going against them. “I love it out here too. This is much more fun. No pressure.” My eyes followed a little girl struggling to chase boys in hockey skates.
He turned to me, and I felt his gaze on my cheek.
“You feel pressure on the ice?” he asked in a surprised tone.
“Don’t you?”
He shook his head, “it’s my release of pressure.” He stood then and started gliding away from me. “Stick with me Ju-ju and I’ll teach you my ways,” he winked.
Skating with him was a different kind of fun. I didn’t get the triumphant feeling I usually did when I landed jumps or executed perfect spins. I was just having fun doing fancy footwork next to him, and then he’d try to replicate it, usually failing miserably and causing me to crack up laughing. It was probably the most I’d laughed in a long time. Every once in a while, I’d go off and throw a simple axle or double loop- the only jumps I felt comfortable enough to do in front of him because I felt confident that I wouldn’t fall on them. He applauded every time, making me feel special, even though I’d been doing those jumps since I was probably seven and they weren’t very impressive. I cherished the feeling of how deep my blades cut into the iced over river. I really had always wanted to skate here.
Tenny Park consisted of a river that ran through the city, so a couple times we skated under bridges that cars crossed over. As we crossed under an impressive looking bridge, I pulled myself into a quick layback spin, amazed at the cool sound of the echo the cars were making above me.
Still a little dizzy, I glided back to an awestruck Grey.
“You’re like art,” he said when I reached him.
“What?” I asked, laughing at the notion.
“Yeah, it's like you're so seamless. There's no stop and start like hockey, it's just one beautiful, ever-moving painting,” he said with admiration in his voice.
He was quite taller than me, but I could tell looking up into his eyes that they were serious. They were beautiful, kind eyes, deep brown and rimmed in red from the cold, with the most impressive eyelashes I’d ever seen.
