Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Sergio’s back hurts from slamming it against the ice, but he’s flying so high from his latest kiss with Jeremy that he’s able to ignore the pain. He can’t, however, ignore Rose as she slides up next to him at the bar at the New Year’s Eve party.
“So,” she says, staring him up and down with pursed lips. “Henry told me you kissed Jeremy.”
“So what if I did?” Sergio challenges, looking at her over his shoulder. One of these days, he’s going to have to give Henry a talk about what happens to snitches.
She meets his gaze. “I don’t want you messing with him. He has enough going on without having to deal with you.” She jabs her finger into his arm, emphasizing her point.
“Maybe he wants to deal with me. Did you ever think of that?” He grabs the sparkling water for Jeremy and the glass of champagne for himself that the bartender places in front of him, then starts to walk away. He’s in too good a mood to have this conversation with her.
“Oh, of course.” She steps in line with him, not letting him get out of her lecture. “How could I forget. Because you’re so irresistible.”
With his eyes focused on Jeremy across the room, where he’s being cornered by Chadwick Levinson, Sergio picks up his pace and weaves through the crowd.
Rose stays right on his heel. She seems as determined to make her point as he is to get another kiss from Jeremy before the clock strikes twelve.
So, he makes her point for her. He looks at her over his shoulder as he walks.
“Look, Rose, I get it. He’s your friend, and you think I’m a piece of shit.”
“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit,” she says unconvincingly. “I just don’t want to see Jeremy get hurt.”
“And you won’t, because I’m not going to hurt him.” He dodges a server passing around a tray of canapes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to help him get away from that Chadwick Levinson asshole.”
“Ugh.” She groans. “He’s still here?”
“Yes. And he’s been trying to poach your skater all night. So maybe you should worry less about my intentions and more about his.”
“Fine,” Rose says. “But I swear to god, Sergio Durand, if you hurt him, I’ll kick your balls off with my skate blade.”
Sergio dodges another server and catches her eye one last time. “Only if your son doesn’t beat you to it.”
She smiles as if that statement has made her proud. “Like mother, like son!”
“You have no idea!” he yells as he breaks away from her.
He turns and focuses back on Jeremy. When he reaches him, he roughly shoulders Chadwick out of the way. “Excuse us,” he says to Chadwick, then hands Jeremy his drink. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” Jeremy says, letting Sergio lead him away from Chadwick to a less crowded corner of the room. “How’s your back?”
Sergio gives a little twist, wincing at the stiffness. “It’s been better.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Think nothing of it,” he says with a light laugh that he feels in the bruised muscles of his back. He puts his arm around Jeremy’s shoulders. “It was absolutely Henry’s fault.”
“I’ll agree with that,” Jeremy says, leaning into his embrace while Holden starts the countdown from the stage with a “Ten!”
Jeremy brings his lips to Sergio’s ear. “And I’ll also say it was quite rude of him to interrupt that kiss.”
“Nine!”
“Is that so?” Sergio turns to face him, bringing their lips mere inches apart.
“Eight!”
“Definitely.”
“Seven!”
“Can I interest you in another one?”
“Six!”
“I think I can be persuaded.”
“Five!”
Sergio brings his hand to the nape of Jeremy’s neck, pulling him closer. “Promise you won’t forget about me tomorrow.”
“Four!”
“I couldn’t forget about you if I wanted to.”
Three!”
“Let’s hope that’s the case.”
“Two!”
“Now kiss me, damn it.”
“One! Happy …”
“Uncle Sergio! Wake up!”
“Oof … morning, buddy.”
“Hiss…”
“Dad said to come get you. Breakfast is almost ready.”
“Mmm … breakfast. Can’t wait,” Sergio says, even though what he really can’t wait for is seeing Jeremy Owens through the trees when he looks out his bedroom window towards the barn. He sits up and ruffles Henry’s hair. “Do you think you can ask your dad to fix me eggs Benedict?”
Henry looks at him with his head tilted to the side. His lips move as he silently tries the words eggs Benedict out in his mouth for the first time. He tips his head to his shoulder. “What’s eggs bend-a-dick?”
What you do to me every morning. “Never mind,” he says lightly. “How about you ask him to make me an omelet?”
Henry tilts his head back the other way. “What’s an omelet?”
“It’s like scrambled eggs with vegetables and stuff inside,” Sergio says with another ruffle to Henry’s hair as he begins to rise out of bed.
Henry pulls a disgusted face. “Why would you want that instead of pancakes?”
“Variety, I suppose. They say it’s the spice of life,” Sergio says.
His time spent reliving this day is beginning to teach him that it’s not entirely true.
Variety is nice when it comes to meal options.
After all, it’s only natural to tire of the same food day after day after excruciating day.
However, variety is very steadily proving not to be the spice of life when it comes to matters of the heart.
In fact, having no variety and maintaining a sole focus on the one and only Jeremy Owens is actually proving to be far more exciting for Sergio than hunting tail and notching bedposts.
Speaking of, Sergio moves to the window and peers outside, catching Jeremy right when he steps out of the barn with his tea.
“What are you looking at?” Henry asks him, jumping up and down, trying to get high enough to look out the window.
“The trees.” He places a hand on Henry’s shoulder to still him. Craving a little bit of peace, he urges Henry along. “Could you go ask your dad about that omelet?”
“Okay!” Henry shouts and gives him two very enthusiastic thumbs ups before he goes thundering out of the room, through the hall, and down the stairs.
Now alone, Sergio smiles to himself and wonders what life will be like without the cacophony of Henry’s footsteps if he ever gets released from this loop and returned to the life he was living before.
His smile turns into a frown. For as much as he wants to see tomorrow, he no longer thinks his life of yesterday is something to which he wants to return, especially if that life doesn’t include being able to gaze upon Jeremy drinking his tea in the morning.
He no longer wants to simply gaze at Jeremy through a window with a thicket of trees and snow-covered ground between them.
He wants more. Much more. More than mere chaste kisses in an ice rink barn can ever provide him.
But if that’s all he can get, for now, he’ll gratefully settle.
Those few chaste kisses are the best kisses he’s ever had.
“Are you coming?” Adrien asks from the doorway.
“Yeah,” he says, his eyes lingering on what he desires. “I’ll be right down.”
“All you need to do is hold my hands,” Jeremy instructs, extending his palms forward for Sergio to take.
Feeling more confident than yesterday in his ability to not knock Jeremy down on the ice, Sergio grabs them willingly.
“Good,” Jeremy says, giving his hands a little squeeze as he begins to skate backward, pulling Sergio along with him. “Now all you have to do is shift your weight with me from side to side. Don’t even worry about picking up your feet.”
“Like this?” Sergio asks, getting into the rhythm, trying to remember the little bit he learned during yesterday’s lesson.
“Like that,” Jeremy says, swaying side to side, his skates carving shallow edges into the ice as he propels them along.
Sergio chances a glance to see what Jeremy is doing with his feet so he may be able to mimic the movements in a few more lessons. With time, hopefully, he’ll feel more comfortable and confident on this frozen slab of potential back aches and trips to the hospital for concussion protocol.
“Nice and slow,” Jeremy says, moving them a little bit faster. “Get used to the way your feet feel on the ice. Feel the grip of the blades and find your balance.”
Sergio lets out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m balanced is because of you.”
“Nah, I could let go and you’d be fine.”
Sergio grips Jeremy’s hands. “Maybe so, but I’m not willing to risk it yet.”
Jeremy’s face breaks into a playful grin with one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other. “I can’t hold on to you forever, Sergio.”
“Bold of you to assume I ever want you to let go.”
Jeremy stops his motions and slowly they come to a standstill in the middle of the rink. “Is that so, Mr. Sergio Durand?”
Sergio, standing stock still, nods his head.
“And why is that?” Jeremy pulls at Sergio’s hands, drawing him in closer so they are inches away from standing chest to chest.
Carefully letting go of one of Jeremy's hands, Sergio brings his now free hand to Jeremy’s cheek and lets his thumb tug gently at the corner of Jeremy’s left eye. “You’re so beautiful on the ice,” he says, sighing softly. “You look … free.”
Jeremy tilts his head and looks at him in contemplation. “I guess I am.”
“I guess you are,” Sergio says, leaning in and placing the gentlest of kisses onto Jeremy’s lips.
This time, he doesn’t hold his breath as he knows Jeremy, same as he’s done before, when Sergio gets this right, will return the kiss.
Instead, he braces himself for their inevitable interruption courtesy of Henry.
“Are you two kissing?” Henry asks, right on cue.
They quickly break apart, but this time, Sergio keeps his footing. He lets his eyes linger on Jeremy, watching him blush as he lets go and pulls away after being caught by young eyes. Sergio winks at him, and that’s when it all goes to hell.
Slam! He lands on his back, feet in the air above him, with a thud.
“Henry!” Jeremy calls out, visibly trying not to laugh. He skates back to Sergio and holds out a hand for him to grab, and helps him up. “You should see your Uncle Sergio on skates. He’s terrible.”