Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I don’t do it because I need to, but because I want to. Maybe, too, because I believe in my mantra now. Completely. “I am pretty and powerful,” I say, and I believe it. I am pretty and powerful.
But it’s not because of how I look in lace.
It’s because of what I can do with my body.
I have a body that’s strong. That can climb a pole. That hangs onto it while letting go at the same time. I have a body that takes me to work, up stairs, around the city, and out with friends.
I have a body with a wild, beating heart.
And tonight, I can use this body on the ice.
I walk into the rundown rink on the outskirts of Oakland with Max. It’s empty. The quiet is serene. “No one’s here,” I say, stating the obvious.
“I rented it out for the night,” he says. “I get to have you all to myself.”
And my heart somehow impossibly beats faster. If he keeps doing this, I’m going to…
Actually, I don’t know what I will do. I truly don’t, and it’s a little terrifying. But then again, so is ice skating so I focus on that.
“This is ridiculous,” I shout, feeling like a baby foal as I try to glide down the ice alongside the man who could truly do this in his sleep.
“You’ve got this,” he says, encouraging me as he spins around, so he’s now skating backward. In slow-mo. And doing it perfectly. Of course he does it perfectly. It’s literally his job.
“Why isn’t this like riding a bike?” I ask, my ankles wobbling.
“Hockey is the best sport there is because it’s hard. But if you can pole dance, you can skate.”
I laugh. “I’m pretty sure pole dancing and hockey have nothing in common.”
He shrugs. “They have us in common.”
This man.
Another minute or so later, I bend my knees and lean forward like I was taught to do.
“There you go,” he says with pride in his voice. “Now push off with one foot, glide on the other.”
It’s a basic move and I do it. Soon, I’m getting the hang of skating again. I’m pushing off with both feet and gliding with both skates on the ice.
“Beautiful,” he says.
Then, I do a snowplow stop out of nowhere. “How about that?” I say, smiling like I've pulled off an Olympic feat.
“I knew you could do it, Ice Queen,” he says.
“Is that a new nickname?”
“No. It’s how you were with me till I melted you,” he says with a playful wink.
“You are so ridiculous,” I tease, “but I love it.”
“I know you do,” he says, then offers me his hand.
We’re not about to audition for the Ice Capades, but we don’t need to because he takes my hand and skates slowly and easily with me. We go round and round, picking up a little more speed each time. But mostly we’re just laughing and having a good time. It’s as perfect as a night can be.
After several laps, we stop in the middle of the rink, and I’m breathless but exuberant. He tugs me against him, then runs his knuckles against my cheek. His eyes blaze with need. “I want to kiss you on the ice.”
A shudder rushes down my body as I lift my chin, offering him my mouth. “Do it.”
But he pauses, his eyes holding mine. “I mean at our arena.”
My heart catches. Does he know what he’s saying? Of course he does. “Yeah?” I ask because I don’t know what else to say.
“I do. I really do,” he says, as serious as he was when he asked me on this date.
“I want that too, but I don’t know how to get there,” I say honestly.
He leans in, presses his forehead to mine. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Will we though? I don’t know how we can do that. So I don’t make any promises. But I can give him this. “Until then…practice now.”
He cups my cheek and kisses me like I matter. Like he means it. Like he wants more than secret dates.
And the more I feel that certainty with him the more I start to think about how much I want to find a way to get there.
But I’m also thinking about something else entirely. Something I’m finally ready for. I break the kiss, then say, “Come to my place now. Say yes.”
“You had me at come.”
We’re out of there in seconds.
41
ALL THE IMPERFECT PIECES
Everly
The lights in my room are soft, but not dim.
The music beats, low in the background—a playlist I cued up. I don’t even know what’s on it. I don’t really care. It just covers the jackrabbit pace of my heart. The thump, thump, thump that’s hard and insistent against my rib cage.
And far too fast, but there’s no way to slow it down. We kick off shoes, and in the doorway, I reach for Max’s hand and lead him across the hardwood to my bed. I stop a foot away, facing him.