Chapter 7
Spreadsheets and Sexual Tension
CALEB
My feet ache from a couple hours on the ice, but it's a good kind of pain, the good feeling of using my muscles as they're meant to be used.
My feet are killing me after showing James the ropes all evening.
He was scared stiff at first, but now he's not half bad on skates.
Not that I'd ever admit that to him. The man's got a big enough ego as it is.
We complete another loop, and my feet are screaming for a break. James has to be dying right now. I glance at James's slightly wobbly, yet adorable ankles.
WTF! Where did that come from? "I think that's enough for tonight. Before you push your luck too far."
James glances at me, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "I was just getting the hang of it."
"Which is exactly when accidents happen. Overconfidence is the enemy of ice skating beginners." God I sound just like my mother right now; authoritative and instructional.
"Fine," he concedes. "At least I didn't fall. Small victories."
"That's because of my good teaching, not your natural grace." I don't mean it harshly. Something about spending these last few hours together has made things less tense between us.
"You are a surprisingly good teacher," he says as we skate toward the exit. "Patient."
I shrug, uncomfortable with the compliment. "It's just physics. Center of gravity, momentum, and friction coefficients."
"Right. Just physics." He tilts his head slightly. "You're really good at it, you know. Been skating your whole life?" A pause, then quieter: "You don't look like you enjoy it much, though."
Letting out a slow breath I try to put my answer into words. How do I explain my life to someone who didn't live in that world, what it was like growing up as a parent's project, not their child?
"I don't hate it, but it was something else I didn't have a choice in. Learning to skate was just another box to check in proper Huntington upbringing."
James is quiet for a moment, his hands still gripping my forearm for stability. "I've only been to a skating arena once before tonight. Group home field trip when I was twelve."
The casual mention of a group home comes out of nowhere. James rarely shares personal details. "Group home?"
"Foster care," he clarifies, eyes fixed on the ice ahead. "They took us to a rink once, but they didn't have skates in my size." He smirks when he admits this, glancing down briefly before meeting my eyes again. "So I watched."
My gaze follows his without thinking, down to his feet, which are frankly massive, and suddenly the joke lands.
Heat creeps up my neck as my brain supplies exactly what joke he's making about shoe sizes. Right. Not thinking about the size of his... Absolutely not.
Then sentiment attempts a hostile takeover. I can picture a younger James, already tall and lanky, standing on the sidelines while others enjoyed themselves. It hits me how different our childhoods were, me with my fancy private lessons and skates made for me.
"They never have the right sizes for the… um… tall kids.” Now I'm desperately trying to redirect my brain away from shoe size correlations. "I started bringing my own when I was fourteen because the rentals never fit right."
Before we can continue, Gavin appears beside us, spraying ice as he stops. "Dudes! Progress report!" He claps James on the shoulder, nearly toppling him. "James, you're skating! Like, moving and everything!"
"Your observational skills continue to amaze," James deadpans as I steady him again.
"All thanks to Professor Huntington here," Gavin continues, unperturbed. "You guys are like some buddy movie. 'Grumpy learns to skate, finds friendship along the way.'"
My eyes roll so hard, and I again find myself explaining how skating works.. "It's basic physics, not friendship. Center of gravity, momentum—"
"Uh-huh," Gavin interrupts me and grins. "Tell that to your hands, dude."
We both realize that James is still gripping my forearm while my other hand rests lightly at his waist for stability. We let go immediately, creating enough distance between us that James wobbles.
"Drew says we're wrapping up in ten," Gavin lets us know, mercifully changing the subject. "Emily just arrived and has plans for us after."
As if summoned, Emily appears at the rink entrance, waving enthusiastically as Drew skates over to greet her. Even from here, it's clear they're totally into each other. Drew's entire face softens as Emily rises slightly on her toes to kiss him.
"They're disgustingly perfect together, aren't they?"
"They make it look easy," James agrees, his tone unexpectedly wistful.
"Nothing about relationships is easy." I cringe thinking about how perfect my parents look to everyone else and how messed up things really are at home.
Drew's voice booms across the ice, calling everyone in. We make our way to the exit, and I stay close to James, ready to steady him if needed. For a guy so sure of himself with everything else, seeing him so wobbly on his feet is kind of cute.
He grips my shoulder as he steps off the ice, his large hand warm even through my jacket. "Thanks," he says, while looking embarrassed.
"No problem." He grips my shoulder as he steps off the ice, his large hand warm even through my jacket. It's intentional this time, a deliberate touch, not a grab for balance, and my face heats up in response.
Fantastic. Two hours of physical activity barely fazed me, but one purposeful touch from James Hunter, and suddenly I'm blushing like a freshman. This fake friendship idea is already complicating things, and we haven't even started yet.
The team gathers around Drew and Emily, a collection of sweaty, dishevelled frat brothers. Emily looks perfect as always in her burgundy coat, her smile bright enough to warm the cold arena.
"Great job, everyone," Drew says. "You all survived hanging out together!"
A chorus of good-natured groans responds.
Emily claps her hands. "Before you all head back, I was thinking hot chocolate at the Winter Wonderland kiosk would be the perfect end to skating night. My treat!"
"Hot chocolate?" Tyler perks up, his arm around Ethan. "We're in," they say together before gazing at each other in a gag-worthy moment.
Several brothers glance at each other, clearly torn between the appeal of free hot chocolate and the desire to return to the frat house.
"I'm pretty beat," Rex says. "Early class tomorrow."
"Same," Mark adds quickly. "Rain check?"
Emily's smile dims slightly, and Drew's expression hardens. When Emily isn't happy, you can bet your ass Drew is going to make us do things until she is. It's his girlfriend, why do we have to... Oh crap, he's glaring at me now. Right. Brotherhood. Togetherness. All that bullshit.
"Hot chocolate sounds great," he says pointedly, looking around the group. "Doesn't it, guys?"
A few more brothers suddenly discover their schedules are flexible after all.
"I'm game." Where did that come from? Though hot chocolate does sound good after freezing on the ice. But something else: I feel reluctant to end the evening just yet. "I could use something warm after all that exercise." Glancing at James, I ask. "Hunter? You joining?"
Using his last name strikes the right balance, friendly but not overly familiar. He looks momentarily surprised before nodding. "Sure. Why not?"
"Great!" Emily beams. "It's a five-minute walk from here."
"Walking? After skating?" Gavin clutches his chest dramatically. "My legs are already jelly!"
"You'll survive," Emily says dryly.
"I don't know," Gavin continues, waggling his eyebrows. "Some of us might need to share body heat to make it. Hunter and Huntington look pretty cozy already."
Heat rises up my face, but I manage to roll my eyes dismissively. "The only thing I'm sharing is my opinion that you're an idiot, Gavin."
"A charming, handsome idiot," Gavin corrects cheerfully.
As we put our shoes back on, I see James is watching Drew and Emily. Something sad in his expression pulls at me. For all his loner act, maybe the Webmaster isn't as okay with being alone as he wants us to think.
"You coming, Hunter?" Standing by the exit with my hands in my pockets. My hair probably looks ridiculous from the cold air, but that's a problem for future Caleb.
"Yeah," he says, grabbing his backpack. "Right behind you."
The Winter Wonderland turns out to be the University's central plaza, transformed with twinkling lights, vendor kiosks, and a large Christmas tree still being decorated. Despite the cool weather, students are milling about, admiring the lights and holding warm drinks in paper cups.
Emily walks our group over to a wooden stand that smells like chocolate and spices. "Their hot chocolate is legendary," she tells us. "They make it from scratch with real Belgian chocolate."
"Sounds fancy," James says, eyeing the menu prices.
"My treat, remember?" Emily insists. "Order whatever you want."
As we wait in line, I end up standing next to James, our shoulders occasionally brushing as people move past. Studying the menu, my mouth is already watering at the specialty options listed. Hot chocolate is my secret weakness, one of the few indulgences I allow myself.
"Sweet tooth?" James asks.
"Something like that." Leaning close, my voice drops. "Don't tell the others. Kills my mysterious brooding image." Something clicks while I'm talking; this is friendly joking around. With James Hunter. When did that happen?
His smile makes my breath hitch; it's real and makes his serious face look completely different. "Secret's safe with me."
When we reach the counter, I order a Mexican hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, cinnamon, chocolate, and a hint of chilli. James chooses a classic dark chocolate, and we move to the pickup area while others place their orders.
"So," I say quietly. My voice is low enough that only he hears me. "This fake friendship thing seems to be working so far."
"Fake friendship?" he repeats, looking confused.