Ice Cold

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥

When I arrive at the rink the next morning, I'm surprised to find that the doors are already open, the front area is tidy, and Blake is already on the ice. I walk to my bench and dump my bag down, eyeing him. He's drawn the line down the middle of the ice, and is skating back and forth, stick in hand. He's moving so fast, I can barely see the puck he's controlling. I'll admit, only because I'm not blind, that he's a damn good skater- he isn't the Captain for nothing. However, I'm sure I could find a fault in his movement just to piss him off a little.

Once my skates are on, I place my guards onto the wall and skate out onto the ice, stretching my arms above my head. Blake's noticed me by now, and stops what he is doing to skate across the ice. We meet each other in the middle- me on my side of the line, him on his. I study him for a moment. He's out of breath, his brown hair tousled and dripping with a slight gleam of sweat. His jaw his sharp, his brows thick yet shapely, his mouth curved into a smirk. When I meet his gaze, they're sparkling with something mischievous. 

"Are you checking me out?"

My eyes widen. 

"What? No."

"What were you doing, then?"

"You have something...there."

I lift a finger to my chin and tap it, before nodding to his own. There's nothing actually there, but it's amusing to see him irritatingly raising a gloved hand to wipe his own chin. I can't help but grin. It's too easy. 

Not another word passes between us, and we quietly return to our individual practice. I watch Blake out of the corner of my eye, and he looks as though he's working hard. Unsurprising, given that it is game day, after all. Even I know it means a lot. His concentration fuels my need to be better, and I skate across the ice towards the sound system, plugging my phone into the speaker. I tap the 'play' button and move into position, preparing to run through a routine I have planned for a competition coming up in a couple days. There'll be figure skaters from all over the state competing, so I know I'll need to be on top of my game. 

I take a deep breath, allowing myself to sync into the rhythm of the music. Muscle memory kicks in, and my body begins to move, all else around me fading into nothing. When I'm performing like this, I'm in my element- nothing else matters except me and my blades on the ice. I land my first jump with ease, which gives me the adrenaline boost I need for my second jump, followed by a camel spin. The routine is going much better today- usually, Carla has to stop me around this point to critique my technique. However, I know that, if she were here, she'd have nothing to critique. That is, however, until I throw myself into my triple lutz. I know before I've touched the ice that I'm landing wrong, and I fall straight over my skate, slamming down onto my side. I gasp, taken aback by the sudden hit. What surprises me, however, is that Blake is skating toward me. I open my mouth to protest, and as though realising what I'm thinking, he skids to stop, halting just in front of the line. He stares at me, and I stare at him. 

"You fell."

"...Obviously."

"Are you-"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Fuck it."

In one swift movement, he's stepped over the line and reached my side, where he pulls me up by the arm, holding me steady until I regain my balance. I tilt my head upwards to snap at him for breaking our rule, for helping me when he knows full when I can get up by myself. However, when I meet his gaze, no words come out. I'm speechless, because he's looking at me in a way I don't recognise, as though he's searching for something. 

"Blake-"

I can't even finish my sentence, because he lowers his head and brings his lips to mine. 

Oh. 

My.

God. 

Blake Beckett is kissing me. Blake Beckett, my sworn enemy since childhood. Blake Beckett, the most sought-after male in the town. Blake Beckett, hockey captain. Blake Beckett, who banned figure skaters. 

And then, I'm kissing him back. 

His arms wrap around the curve of my waist, and my hands wind around the back of his neck, fingers intertwining through his hair. His kiss grows hungry, and I open for him willingly, feeling nothing but the aching need to be closer to him. I know he feels the same because of how tightly he holds my body, and the way he kisses me like he can't get enough. We're a mess of hands and skin and lips, and we only stop when we've run out of air. 

We break apart, lips still inches apart. Both of us are out of breath and panting, his fingers caressing my side.  It's only when the music of my program stops that I realise what we're doing. My eyes go wide, and I immediately break away from him, skating back a few paces. 

"You crossed the line. You- you kissed me."

"I did."

His tone is low, and he speaks slowly, his gaze still locked upon me. He pockets his hands and stares at me, waiting for a response. 

"..Why?"

He shrugs, nonchalant. Then, the wall breaks away, and he speaks. 

"Because I watched you skate. I watched you skate, and I haven't thought of you the same since. It's been over a week, and you have not left my thoughts once. I can't stop thinking of you. Thinking of your laugh, your lips, your eyes. You petrify me, because you make me feel different. I don't..feel..different. But you make me feel different."

My lips part, and it's my turn to stare at him. I am in complete disbelief of what he is saying to me, and I am in complete disbelief by how much I like hearing it. 

I don't know what else to say to him, so I purse my lips shut and turn to skate off the ice, hastily untying my skates, shoving them into my bag. I slip my sneakers on, rise to my feet and turn to leave. However, Blake is standing in my path. He doesn't come too close, which I appreciate. The boy knows his boundaries, as least.

"Will you be at the game?"

"..Maybe."

"Talk to me after. Please."

With the way he's looking at me, I find it impossible to say no. He looks genuinely desperate, and it would be cruel to leave him frustrated before a game. 

"Alright."

He smiles then, and steps aside. I nod and walk past him, making my way towards the exit. I'm glad he's not capable of seeing my face right now, because if he could, he would realise that I'm smiling too.