“I’ll apologize when he gets back. I meant it when I said I know I was in the wrong out there.”
Someone flicks on the television to the press conference. There he is. Reid Raines, looking all stoic and imposing next to Coach Dennings. White heads into the showers, and I should do the same, but then they ask Raines about me, and it’s like the whole room falls away.
***
My plan to Luka love-bomb the captain is back on track. After hearing his words at the press conference, I knew I needed to earn back his trust and show him that I can follow his orders. So here I am, bright and early, back in the rink.
“We really should be recovering from yesterday’s game,” Reid calls as he steps out onto the ice. He’s wearing his skates, but he’s still in his street clothes, just like me. It’s colder without all the extra padding, but a few minutes of skating around will warm us both up nicely. “Are you going to tell me why we’re back here so early?”
“Figure skating classes start at eight, and I didn’t particularly want an audience for what comes next,” I say, and his eyebrows rise as one corner of his lips picks up in an adorable smirk.
“Okay, I’m intrigued,” he says, skating closer.
“I know I broke your trust yesterday,” I say as I pull out my blindfold and wrap it tight around my eyes. “So to earn it back, or at least start to, I want to show you that I trust you.”
“By blindfolding yourself in the middle of an ice rink?”
“Yes, and it’ll be your job to lead me to each of the flags I’ve placed around it without crashing me into the rail, of course.”
“You trust me to guide you around the rink?”
“Completely,” I reply, my heart already racing in anticipation. There’s something about giving up control like this that’s exhilarating, a turn-on even. Not that I’d tell him that. And that is not why I’m doing this either. I meant what I said. I need him to know that I trust him so that he can start trusting me again.
“Okay, umm, do I just tell you what way to go?”
“It’s your call. I’m at your mercy.”
“Umm, okay, skate slowly about three lengths to the right,” he says, and I take off toward my right when he stops me.
“No, sorry, my right, your left.”
“Okay, three lengths, hmm, I’m not sure how long that is without being able to see.”
“I’ll tell you when to stop, then. Go slow. I don’t really like the idea of having to explain to the coach how you got injured.”
“I’m counting on that fact,” I say as I skate a little faster.
“Stop,” he calls, his voice so much louder than before. Is he closer, or did he yell on instinct?
“Okay, now where?” I ask, before I let my thoughts wander again.
“Um, turn on the spot to your right until I say stop.”
I follow his direction, and after a slow skate up toward what I’m guessing is the far end of the rink, I have the first flag in my hand. I shove the fabric over my belt, then push off from the edge.
“I didn’t tell you to do that,” Raines says, but his voice isn’t harsh, it’s more playful, light.
“I didn’t want you to just have me skate around the edges to collect the rest,” I reply, and he laughs.
“Am I that obvious?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m learning pretty quickly that nothing about you is obvious.”
There’s silence for the longest time, and my pulse quickens with every passing second.
“Turn on the spot again,” he finally says, and I do as instructed. He leads me to the next two flags with ease. My confidence on the ice under his guidance is only building. I’m speeding up the rink now, throwing in turns as I go.
“Be careful,” he tells me, his voice right there beside me every step of the way. My heart is jackhammering against my rib cage, and Reid’s lemon-ginger scent surrounds me like an intoxicating cloud. The scent deepens the closer he gets to me, like his body is reaching for me through the cool air, but then, before I can be sure, the feeling is gone again.
