Chapter 12
I didn’t get much packing done, but both costumes are flawless and ready to go for Paris, and that’ll have to be enough for now because Riley gets a text that everyone is downstairs and we’re putting together a dinner order for tonight as a big group to celebrate Dad and Elisa’s return home.
It’s probably not the homecoming my sister imagined at all: takeout with a bunch of junior skaters instead of appearances on morning shows and late-night TV and Dancing with the Stars announcements.
When we make it into the kitchen, Georgia and Harry are there, looking a little bit cornered by Dad. He’s got out a photo album I know well, and from experience, I can tell he’s only about a quarter of the way through it, which means there’s at least an hour left of his career history.
Camille looks up from leaning on the kitchen island, studying a video, I assume from training today, just like always. “Sushi?” she asks, pocketing her phone.
Everyone agrees, and I swap the photo album out of Dad’s hands with a menu for our favorite sushi place. There’s nothing he loves more than being put in charge of things like that. He starts making a list of what we should order and over his shoulder Georgia mouths, Thank you.
Dad’s wrapping up his list when Georgia says, “Oh, and add a spicy tuna roll for Freddie—and speak of the devil.”
“Oh, I’m the devil now?” Freddie says, coming into the kitchen with Maria hot on his heels. She must have let him in the house. He heads straight for his sister and kisses her cheek. “Are you feeling any better?”
“So much,” Georgia says, a hand on her stomach.
“Good enough for sushi?”
“Good enough for a California roll, anyway. No raw fish for at least a couple more months,” she says, her eyes twinkling at her brother, the same way his do.
“They say it will be ready in a half hour,” Dad says, ending a call. “Who wants to pick it up?”
“I’ll go,” I say. The restaurant is a few blocks away and I really don’t need to be in the house when Elisa decides to come downstairs. And if I can avoid the way my skin tingles with Freddie this close—and yeah, across the room feels close—so much the better.
I’m halfway down the street when quick footsteps echo on the sidewalk behind me. For a split second my heart races in fear, and then I glance back to see Brayden jogging to catch up.
Clutching a hand to my chest, I grumble, “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” he says, “I just got to the house and they said you went to pick up the food, so I figured you could use another set of hands.”
“Or you’re avoiding my sister as much as I am.”
“Yeah, we never really talked about me and Elisa, did we?” he says as we fall into step together.
“We still don’t have to,” I say. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“I think I do, though,” he says, his voice more serious than usual. “When I first got here, I didn’t…I didn’t think I was staying.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I figured you’d call it after a couple of months at most, so I didn’t really take it seriously, which is why I thought there wasn’t any harm in hooking up with Elisa.”
“Okay? I…but then?” I ask, pretty sure that’s not all he was trying to say.
“But then we really started to click after a minute and I realized that we could be really great, which is why I called things off with her.”
“You broke up with Elisa for me?” I ask, pushing my hands into my coat pockets, not quite sure I’m understanding him completely.
“For…well, for us, I guess. And I wouldn’t call it a breakup—that’s for people who are in an actual relationship, right? We were just…”
“I really don’t need to know.” I cut him off.
“It’s not nearly as…scandalous as whatever you’re thinking,” he says with a shrug. “We made out a few times. That’s all. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Kissing can matter. Especially if you haven’t really done it before, and especially if you care about the person,” I say, looking up sideways at him as we walk.
And while I’m trying to defend my sister and her years-long crush on my partner, I’m pretty sure I’m not actually talking about her anymore.
“You’re right,” he says quietly. “It can matter, but what I’m saying is that it didn’t matter with her and I wanted you to know that.”
“You wanted me to know you were using my sister?” I snap.
I know this is irrational and that I’m taking it out on him because this day has been a complete roller coaster of half joy and half disaster and I really don’t have the mental energy for anything this important, but I can’t stop myself.
“I don’t understand why you’re even telling me after all this time. What do I care?”
He huffs, his breath turning into a soft white cloud of frustration in the freezing air. “No, you’re right. It’s stupid. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“Okay, then,” I say, feeling the tension in my shoulders release.
The restaurant is just up ahead. I tuck my chin into my chest to ward off the cold for the last few yards, but then Brayden’s arm is up and around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, and it’s like being pressed against a walking space heater.
He’s so warm I can’t help leaning in closer. “Thanks.”
“We’re in public,” he mumbles, nodding up ahead to the people coming down the street toward us. “Part of the rules, right?”
“Oh, right,” I agree, and suddenly feel very stupid, like I’m in way over my head.
I probably am.
The sushi place is packed, just like it usually is on a Saturday night, and there’s only a small corner to wait in while they find our takeout order. There’s no real reason to, since it’s warm inside, but Brayden puts his arm back up around my shoulders after a few minutes.
“What?” I ask, looking up at him.
“We’ve been spotted,” he says, his eyes darting to his left for a second where a table of girls about my age are sitting, very casually—too casually—taking pictures of the girl with her back to us. “Should we?”
“I mean, this is what we wanted, right?”
“Right,” he says, before turning to face them fully and sending them a megawatt smile. All of them practically melt on the spot. “Do you girls want a pic?”
“Oh my God,” one of them mutters at being caught, but then she seems to think better of it and smiles back. “Yeah, do you guys mind? We’re big fans of the show!”
We spend the next few minutes posing with them and then reposting the ones they chose to put on social media. This is exactly what we wanted and it’s working.
The rest of the restaurant watches in fascination as the girls take pictures with us in different combinations until our food arrives, and it’s easy to watch the wave of recognition pass through them as they look us up on their phones or whisper to someone else at their table who we are.
It’s wild.
“Thank you guys so much, this is awesome,” the girl who first spoke says and we beat it out of the place before it occurs to them to leave too.
“That was so weird,” I say when we’re back on the street, carrying four massive bags of sushi between us. Apparently, they’d called in more orders after we left, and judging by the amount of food, everyone is going to be there when we get back.
“Yeah,” Brayden says, looking back into the restaurant through the plate glass window where the girls are watching us go. “Hang on a second.”
I stop and turn to him. “What’s—?” I start, and then stop again. He’s so close, close enough that his coat buttons catch against mine for a second.
“Do you think we could,” he says, trailing off, his eyes flicking up toward the restaurant and then back to me and then down to my lips, “give them a show?”
“A show?” I ask, but I know what he means. Those girls won’t be able to help themselves. If we do this, the pictures will be everywhere in a few minutes, with a sweet story about how we were nice enough to stop and take pictures with them before. It’s perfect.
Brayden raises his eyebrows at me, and I nod once, but he shakes his head. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” I whisper, and that’s all it takes.
He leans in close and, for a moment, presses his forehead against mine before one arm circles my waist and draws me closer, like he’s done a million times on the ice, but then everything is different.
My breath catches when he softly, but insistently, takes my lower lip between his.
He guides me through the kiss. It’s slow and sweet, like I’m being led in a dance, and just when I think I might dump the bags I’m still holding on the ground and wrap my arms around his shoulders to pull him close, to deepen the kiss and lose myself completely in this feeling, he pulls away a fraction, his nose brushing mine before he steps back and lets out a sharp exhale.
My experience with kissing is limited to a few quick pecks and one very sloppy attempt at French kissing with my seventh-grade boyfriend, Zac Brewer, who broke up with me two days later to go out with a girl who didn’t spend every waking moment training and could actually go to his hockey games to cheer him on and go to parties to celebrate afterward, and I don’t want to think about Zac Brewer right now, not after a kiss like that.
That is what kissing is supposed to feel like.
“Wow,” I mumble, before I can catch myself.
Brayden clears his throat and nods. “Yeah, um, I think…I think that was good.”
“Yeah?” I ask, biting my lip. He’d know better than I would.
He knows me really well, too well, probably, so he hears uncertainty in my voice. “Uh, yeah, Adriana, add kissing to your list of talents, okay?”
“Definitely something to put on my college apps.”
“Come on,” he says, “everyone’s waiting for their food and I think those girls got their money’s worth.”
“Hmm?” I ask, a little distracted by how close he’s still standing. “Oh, right…the girls.”
He laughs a little and I want to be annoyed, but I can’t muster up the energy. It was a good kiss, even if it was all for show, and I’d have to be dead not to appreciate that. “Shut up. C’mon.”