Chapter 5 #4
“Sure thing,” Holden says, then turns to look at Sergio and Adrien in the back seat. “Do either of you want to come with? Maybe Jeremy has Henry up and on skates. You should see him. He’s terrible.”
“Yeah, I’ll come.” Sergio nods. Jeremy’s smile at him from lunch is still in the forefront of his mind, helping him to feel hopeful that there is a path for an apology to be accepted.
“Adrien?”
“Nah,” he says and begins the spiel Sergio is so familiar with. He says it silently along with him. “It’s almost midnight in Paris. I’m gonna call Daphne and wish her a Happy New Year.”
“Alright, send her our love,” Holden says and exits the car with Sergio following after him out of the garage and around the house to head down to the barn.
“What’s the deal with Jeremy?” Sergio asks when the barn comes into view. “Is he seeing anyone?”
Holden stops in his tracks and turns to look at Sergio. “You’re not looking to rekindle an old flame, are you?”
“No. Not at all,” Sergio lies, a ghost of a memory of what Jeremy’s lips felt like pressed against his tickles his skin.
“Good. Because if you think Rose is protective of Allison, you have no idea how fierce she is when it comes to Jeremy.” Holden’s whole body quakes, and he continues walking. “I shudder at the thought of your castration.”
“Why is everyone in your family out for blood with my balls?” Sergio asks.
“Huh?” Holden looks at him, confused.
Sergio, recalling his daily wake-ups, shakes his head. “Let’s just say your son has one hell of a kick.”
“He’s got his mother's legs,” Holden says by way of explanation while opening the door, wafting the sound of Wicked Game by Chris Isaak through the air.
After they enter, Sergio pauses at the rink's wall and watches Jeremy move. The way he carries himself on the ice is confident, even though the moves he makes are relatively simple and not showy. But nonetheless, they are beautiful. There are no jumps or complicated tricks. It’s pure unbridled skating done perhaps the way it’s meant to be, with smooth gliding footwork carving large loops into the ice and body movements flowing to the melody and finding pauses in the downbeats.
Like the first time he saw Jeremy working this routine, it’s soothing.
The moves and the music, though haunting, are perfectly aligned.
“Hey, guys!” Holden yells out, announcing their arrival.
Jeremy puts a pause on his moves, and Henry waves so enthusiastically from his seat on the low ledge that he falls onto the ice, laughing.
Holden moves quickly to help him back onto the low ledge.
“Routine is looking good. Legs feeling alright today?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy says, smiling. His cheeks are flushed with that happy blush that Sergio has never noticed on anyone outside of Jeremy … ever.
“You really look good out there,” Sergio says. “Best I’ve ever seen you skate.”
“Don’t tease,” Jeremy says. The smile drops from his lips.
“I wasn’t teasing. I meant it.” He pauses and tries to find his words. “It’s like, when you watch the competitions, you can always read the nerves, and fear, and stress on the skater's faces. But not you. Not here. You skate like you’re doing what you love because you love it.”
Holden dramatically turns, doing a big sweeping motion with his head, and looks at Sergio. His eyebrows are raised high, and he has a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. “Excuse me, but who are you and what have you done with my friend Sergio?”
“Oh, fuck off.” Sergio jabs him in the shoulder. He looks back at Jeremy. “I mean it. You look good.”
Jeremy dips his head and turns away. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m really only out here playing around. I shouldn’t even be on the ice.”
“No,” Sergio protests. “You’re exactly where you belong.” He reaches across the half wall in an attempt to turn Jeremy to look at him again, craving a glimpse of those flushed cheeks once more.
Jeremy starts at Sergio’s hand touching his shoulder. He shifts, twists, and loses his balance, landing on the hard ice floor with a thud. Sergio winces, but before he can stammer out an apology, Henry yells at him, “Not cool!”
Holden hoists himself waist-high onto the half wall so he can lean over it and offer Jeremy his hand.
Jeremy waves him off, clearly embarrassed. “I got it.” Once standing again, he places one hand on the wall and keeps his eyes averted, chewing on his lip while he carefully makes his way to the low ledge. “What time are we leaving tonight?”
“A little before eight,” Holden says. “We gotta drop Henry off at the Weirs’ on the way.”
“Alright. I’ll meet you up at the house in a bit, then,” he says, sliding a blade guard onto his right skate before he takes a hesitant step off the ice, holding onto the wall by Sergio for balance.
He completely avoids Sergio’s attempt to make eye contact as he slides a guard onto his left skate and slowly, with rigidity in his steps, walks to a place where he can sit and unlace his boots to take them off.
His expression makes it obvious that he’s done with having an audience.
“We’ll see you later, Jeremy,” Holden calls after him as he lifts Henry off the ground and places him on his shoulders.
“Fuck,” Sergio mutters, knowing full well exactly how he’s going to be woken up again tomorrow. Perhaps during his next shot at this day, he can at the very least not knock Jeremy over.