Chapter 3

Primrose

“Damn, someone’s dressed to impress,” Matthew said, coming out of the back door of his dorm building.

I opened my jacket down to the slim crop top underneath, not really much more than just wearing a bra. “She’ll be the only one to get an exclusive, ‘accidental’ peek at this show.”

“So that’s lesson one?”

I nodded him towards the tree-lined path near the road, turning and walking with one hand in my pocket, the other swinging casually at my side. “I’m not planning on putting this all into easily digestible lessons, for the record, so pay attention. But sure. Rule number one is that you don’t make it look like you’re intentionally seducing them until they’ve already started wishing you would.”

“Where are we headed?” He took a few quick strides to catch up with me and settled into my pace, walking along the path—campus was quiet right now, just the occasional person going by in the other direction, the birds singing in the trees around us and not a car on the road to be seen. Typical Sunday morning.

“Ice rink. She practices every Sunday at free hours, and there’s almost nobody else at that block, from what it seems. We’re going to start making her want me, but I want to emphasize it’s starting. We’re not jumping any guns too quickly.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re going to be my date.”

He paused. “Somehow I feel like it’s wise to say no.”

I elbowed him. “Play along, sicko. If you have a problem with it, take it up with Zachary. If I’m there with a hetero date, I’m not trying to hit on her, and I have plausible deniability to play my hand a little. Put it into her head that she’s the one pursuing me. And we’re going to be a little uncomfortable and awkward as a couple, to put it in her head that maybe I want something better… I just don’t know it yet.”

He laughed, turning a corner at the cafeteria with me, heading for the sports center. “How much time have you spent crafting this?”

I couldn’t help a smile. “A reasonable, healthy amount of workshopping. Giselle’s a softie, from the looks of things. Normally I’d move quickly and make it fiery, but with her… I’m going for a slow burn. Make her fall in love, not just want to get in my pants. Now—let’s get our details sorted out before we get there.”

∞∞∞

Giselle

“Sorry to run,” I sighed, pushing away from the table. “I’ve really got to hit the ice.”

Cass gave me that tired look that made the guilt stab in my gut. “Yeah, whatever. I can handle this myself, I guess. Good luck with your skating again.”

I paused, hovering half-stood over the table. The library was quiet right now, maybe four other students here in the study hall total, lingering in the corners on laptops or working out problems at the whiteboard wall, and I felt like I was tied in a knot looking at Cass’s kicked-puppy look. She was a shorter girl with a lean figure, dirty-blonde hair messy with bedhead right now, and her big green eyes looking sadly up at me made me feel like I was committing murder by leaving.

“I just—I have a competition coming up,” I pleaded.

“Well, I have a big exam coming up,” she said, looking back at her textbook. “Here’s hoping they both go well.”

I was a terrible friend. A better friend would have found a way to make it work—maybe help her study while I did off-ice exercises, or invite her along to the rink so I could talk to her in between drills, or just… scheduling another time for later.

But frankly, I didn’t want another time later. These study sessions together were so stressful, and it always made me feel like I was doing something wrong, no matter what I did. So it probably made me terrible, but… I was looking forward to getting out of this.

“Good luck,” I said. “Text me if you have any problems, okay?”

She laughed drily, spinning her pencil in her hands. “I’d be texting you nonstop. Just go skate. Forget about me.”

So of course I felt rotten the whole way down to the rink. Why wouldn’t I? I shot off a few texts to my coach, back and forth—she wasn’t there for my practice today, since I was just doing drills during free hours, but I checked in to let her know I was getting to my practice session and got a list of drills to practice, and I was at the rink just before it opened, although Shay at the desk let me in without me even having to ask. Thankfully, as I’d expected, the rink was deserted right now—we usually got a few people coming in for the Sunday morning block, but only in the latter half of it, and even then barely enough to count on one hand. I breathed in the cold air as I sat down by the rink, doing a quick set of warmups before I fished my skates out of my bag and tugged them on. I laced them up tightly, and I stepped out onto the ice, feeling the glide as I moved away from the entrance.

Despite everything—the breakup with Andrea still feeling like molten tar in my gut, the stress of the competition, and the general feeling like I was abandoning all my friends and responsibilities by spending all my time here—in spite of it all, I was convinced there was no sensation in the world quite like getting onto an empty rink early in the morning. The tactile sensation of my skates carving the ice, the soft grinding sound of it underfoot as I moved, and that frictionless feeling—that sensation like I was flying. Cold air in my lungs, my blood starting to pump harder as I pushed lower, deeper, picking up speed going around the perimeter of the rink, it was what I lived for. This sacred space where all my fears and insecurities went away.

I’d do my drills in a minute. I let myself enjoy the space, skating freely and loosely, flying into a simple sit spin that I hardly needed practice on, doing wide and loose crossovers, and just savoring the feeling of my blades on the ice for a few luxurious minutes, and it was in the middle of a few fun, low-effort jumps when I noticed a couple coming into the rink, talking and laughing together. The woman—she was gorgeous, with long fiery-red hair and blue eyes, walking with a cool, confident demeanor—her gaze caught on me briefly from across the rink, and I flashed a nervous smile her way before I turned my attention back to the ice. I felt suddenly self-conscious, and I wasn’t sure why. She just had a piercing gaze, and even though she seemed friendly, it set me on alert so my movements got more strained, overthinking everything.

I forced myself to breathe out. I was just worrying about things too much. I’d never seen either of them on the ice before, and I was here just about every open session, so they were probably just here for the Instagram-perfect ice-skating date. Odds were they didn’t even know how to skate. Nobody was judging me. Nobody was judging me.

Coach wanted me practicing my crossovers. Said I needed more fluidity in the tighter ones, that I couldn’t transition smoothly to a double-axel because I was nervous. So I got to my drills, pulling crossovers at varying speeds in tighter circles, and I managed to get into it enough I forgot about the couple until I spotted the girl getting onto the ice wobbly on rental skates, clinging to the wall. Her date, a taller guy with brown hair just on the tasteful side of messy who looked like he was dressed for a Siberian expedition instead of the ice rink, was at least for now content just to watch from the sidelines.

Also, her ankles were not remotely supported. She was going to hit her head.

I swooped around the perimeter and glided back towards her, and I slowed to a gentle stop next to her. “First time on the ice?” I said, hoping I came across as friendly and not patronizing. The radiant smile she gave me said it worked, and I let out a breath of relief.

“Might just be. Is it that obvious from the fact that I’m holding onto the wall like I’ll die if I take one finger off?”

“It takes some getting used to. But… frankly, you’re not getting used to anything with your skates tied like that.”

Her face fell. “Oh… did I do it wrong?”

I gestured pulling laces tight. “You’re going to want it a lot tighter than that. You need support. Do you want me to show you?”

She turned her head away. “Oh, I don’t want to bother you. You look like you’re practicing for something serious.”

She really was stunningly pretty. The shape of her face in profile was flawless enough it gave me a weird feeling in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “I don’t mind. I need a break, anyway. Does your boyfriend skate?”

She laughed, glancing back at me. “He’s the one who told me to tie them like this. He’s never skated a day in his life, but he looked it up on YouTube…”

“Let’s get you back off the ice and better laced up before you break something, then,” I laughed, gesturing her back to the entrance. I couldn’t stand know-it-all guys…

She beamed at me. “You’re really sweet. Thanks so much. My name’s Primrose, by the way.”

“That’s a pretty name,” I blurted before I could think it through, which was just like me—awkwardly blurting things and then feeling convinced everyone would hate me for it. But Primrose went a little wide-eyed, like she’d never been complimented before, and shyly, she avoided my gaze.

“Do you think so? Thank you.”

“I’m Giselle, by the way.”

“Are you, like, a professional figure skater or something? You’re so good on the ice.”

I laughed awkwardly. “I do my best, at least… but I am with the team.”

She cocked her head. “There’s a team?”

“I can tell you more about it when you’re not about to fall over and break something. Do you want some help getting back to the entrance?”

I offered her a hand, and I instantly regretted it, because she looked wide-eyed at the hand like she couldn’t figure out why I was offering. “I’m—er—I should be fine.”

I kicked myself as I put my hand down, gliding to the entrance and putting on my skate guards before I followed Primrose off the ice. I never knew how to act normal around pretty girls, and I was just impressed how I managed to put my foot in my mouth even with a whole-ass skate attached.

I stood to the side as she stepped off the ice, and her boyfriend looked up from his phone as she teetered over towards the bleacher seats at the edge of the rink. “What, done already?” he said.

Did he only just now look up at her? He probably could have pieced together something was happening. Primrose shrugged, sitting on the bleachers just enough of a distance away from him to be awkward.

“I was about to trip and take out the other girl on the ice with me, so she’s making me fix my skates before I get us both injured.”

“Oh.” And with just that, he was back to his phone. I wasn’t getting in the middle of… whatever was going on here. I sat down next to Primrose, and I guided her to untie the laces.

“The boot’s a good fit for you, which is nice,” I said, kneeling in front of her to check her boots. “I want you to take the laces here and pull it as tight as you think it should go, and I’ll adjust it, okay?”

She gave them a weak tug. I put my hands on the laces next to hers and pulled them tighter, and she let out a little gasp.

“Oh—that much?”

“You need it rock-solid to support your ankle when you skate.”

“I had no idea…”

“Let’s do it again on the next one.”

She did a little better, but still not enough—I pulled it tighter for her, and we went up to the last lace, where I showed her through the over-under lacing up the boot, and I tried to help her tighten them at the top, but without enough lace left for both our hands, I put my hands over hers to help pull it tighter, not thinking about it, and she pulled away with a small gasp.

“Sorry,” I blurted, pulling my hands back.

“No, it’s okay! Just… your hands are cold.”

“Oh.” I laughed nervously. Maybe I wasn’t committing a terrible faux pas, making her think I was trying to make a move on her and making her hate me forever. “Yeah, you kind of get used to that out here. I’ll keep my hands off.”

She looked away. “No, it’s fine. I appreciate the help.”

I got a nervous sensation in my throat that I tried to ignore as I held her hands on the laces, helping her finish the lacing up to the top. She tied a neat bow, and the way she looked down at it once she was done, her whole face lighting up with a proud look like she’d just made something beautiful—I looked away. I didn’t want to be thinking how cute she looked.

“Now see if you can do the other skate, and I’ll check it.”

She did the other skate, and honestly, I was impressed—she picked it up perfectly, getting the over-under right faster than some of the girls I’d volunteer-coached for weeks. I checked the laces—all perfect tightness.

“Did I pass?” she said, and I stood up, offering her a hand without thinking.

“With flying colors. Let’s get you back on the ice.”

“Sounds great,” she said, and she took my hand this time, and it was only then that I realized I’d offered a hand at all.

Maybe my hand was really cold, because hers was blazing. It felt nice…

God, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was just a mess after the breakup. I was not getting nervous feelings over a pretty girl here with her boyfriend, no matter how cute the little smile on her face was.

I took my skate guards off at the ice, and I helped steady her on her first steps onto the ice, looking down with wide eyes as she wobbled, struggling to balance. She clung to the wall with her other hand, her face white with panic, and I skated slowly backwards facing her as she crept forwards.

“I can see what you mean,” she said. “The skates.”

“It’s easier like this, right?”

“Easier is a strong word.”

I laughed. “You get used to it.”

She flushed suddenly, looking away. “God, Giselle, I’m keeping you from your practice. I don’t want to make you coach me.”

Well—unfortunately, she was right. I let go of her hand, gliding back away. “I guess so. My coach just wants me to practice my crossovers, so I’ll be going in circles close by. Why don’t you try to practice standing? Angle your feet out like a penguin.”

She beamed. “We’ll see how I do. What’s a crossover?”

I turned, pushing away, and I called back in her direction. “Watch and see! They’re pretty cool.”

I tried to pretend I wasn’t watching, but I was watching—and I very much enjoyed seeing the stars in Primrose’s eyes as she watched me lean into a fast, tight crossover, looking at me like I was doing the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

And hey, she was trying to stand, experimenting with taking her hand off the wall, just for a split second at a time. She was kind of getting it, so she was improving more than I was. So maybe she was the impressive one.

“You’re not doing badly at all,” I called to her, coming out of a crossover close to where she was standing free from the wall, albeit with her hand hovering a millimeter over the barricade.

“Me? You’re the one flying around like you were born to be here.”

I laughed. “I’ve just been practicing a while…” I said offhandedly, as if I wasn’t living for the compliments and just wanted them injected in my veins.

“I don’t know what on earth you have to practice crossovers for. You make it look easy.”

Come to think of it—it had been feeling kind of easy. I think I’d been so focused on Primrose that I hadn’t given myself space to be self-conscious, and it had just… worked.

“It’s so I can do this,” I said, and I took off into the part of my program that kept tripping me up—a fast crossover, and then feeling the adrenaline of the move coursing through me, the world whipping by me, I took off into my double-axel, landing it perfectly, and then the next, my heart hammering as I came out of it into a smooth glide, and Primrose burst out clapping.

Which was good for my ego, except with her hands busy clapping, she started drifting away from the wall, flinched and stumbled, jerked back trying to correct it, and she almost tipped clear over backwards.

I didn’t even think about it—I moved in and caught her, one hand on hers and the other around her waist, and I yanked her forwards and into me, catching her out of her fall. She gasped, looking up at me with eyes wide, as she thudded against my front and the two of us glided in a slow circle together, and I felt a sudden thick knot form in my throat.

“Don’t… don’t fall backwards,” I managed to say. “If you’re falling, fall forwards, down, or any direction other than backwards.”

She laughed, breathless, eyes wide. “Oh… my god. I’m so sorry. Thank you.”

And then as if I wasn’t awkward enough, holding her close enough to me I was sure she could feel my heart beating faster, her jacket button popped open where I had it pressed into me, and she was not wearing much underneath. Bare shoulders with freckles on warm skin, a narrow crop top, and then just smooth, soft skin down to her pants—

“Oh, god, I’m sorry,” she laughed awkwardly, fumbling a hand to shut her jacket. “I should just get off the ice. I’m going to get both of us hurt.”

Ineeded to get off the ice if she didn’t. I was normally awkward around beautiful women, not just blatantly checking them out every time I got a chance. I glanced away, back towards the entrance. “There’s supports you can use to help you learn how to balance on the ice…”

“Thank you… I think I’ll just go sit with Matt for a bit before I die of embarrassment.”

Matt. Great. Now I had a name for the guy whose girlfriend I’d just been ogling.

Jesus, I didn’t know what was wrong with me.