Chapter 11 This Is How I Die
THIS IS HOW I DIE
Elliot
“This is a bad idea.”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
“I’m gonna die.”
“You’re not gonna die.”
“I’m gonna fall and break my tailbone. It’ll be a career-ending injury. I’ll never be able to kick again and you’ll have to pay the NFL back for my salary since you’re the one that injured me.”
“I…can’t say for sure, but I don’t think that’s how career-ending injuries work.”
I’m standing at the edge of the ice, holding on to the boards for dear life.
The idea of getting out here and skating was all fine and dandy when there was a cute man casually undressing and caressing my feet as he helped me out of my sneakers and into the skates.
But as soon as I stood up and took the two precarious steps to get here, the feigned-turned-real fear of trying to glide around ice on knife shoes came back in full force.
My knuckles are white, my hands practically numb from the force of my grip as Alex tries to coax me onto the ice like I’m a scared puppy cowering in its carrier at the vet’s office.
“Can’t I put my sneakers back on? I’ll shuffle around the ice on flat soles, that’ll be much better.”
“El, I’m a professional. I do this for a living. I promise I won’t let you fall. Give me your hands, please.”
Well, fuck. If he’s going to go and be all cute about it, what choice do I have?
The thing is, I don’t know if Alex even realizes how he turns me too mush with his pouty lips and wide, amber eyes.
But the man can play my emotions like a violin, and before I know it, I’m holding my breath and stepping on to the ice, my gloved hands held tight in his.
I grip his hands as tightly as I did the boards, and while I keep my feet steady, Alex glides backwards with ease, pulling us both along. The chilly air bites at my cheeks, but the heat radiating off of Alex’s body keeps me warm.
“This isn’t so bad,” I admit after a turn around the rink. We slow down, and I feel Alex’s breath hot against my ear.
“It might even be better if you open your eyes, El.”
That’s when I realize I’ve had my eyes squeezed so tight this entire time, I’m almost guaranteed to have at least one new wrinkle on my forehead by the end of the day.
Slowly, I blink them open to find myself standing nose to nose with Alex.
People whir by on their skates, but they don’t matter as we stand there hand in hand by the boards.
The last time our faces were this close, I was about to kiss Alex, and my eyes were closed.
This time, I take my time drinking him in, memorizing all the little features of his face, from the bump on the bridge of his nose to the way his upper lip sticks out just the tiniest bit from the way his crooked front canine tooth sits in his mouth.
“Hey, El.”
“Hey, Goat.”
God, I could really fool myself into thinking there’s something here between us.
At this moment, I could throw all my good sense, everything I know and everything I’ve learned out the window and just believe that Alex wants me.
That he isn’t just the soft, sweet kitten who wants to pal around and be friends, but that he feels this surge of electricity, too.
It’s stupid, so incredibly stupid, because even though I told Breaker and myself that there was no chance of me falling in love with Alex, that doesn’t mean I’m not susceptible to the lust swirling in my body.
“Wanna tell me why you’re so afraid?” he asks quietly. No judgement, no pressure, just an open ear, ready to listen.
“It’s dumb,” I shrug.
“I’m sure it's not.”
I sigh, squeezing his hands tighter. I don’t like to talk about my childhood in a negative light.
We might have been poor, but at the end of the day, I was a happy kid.
I prefer to live in the present, where I get to spoil my mom rotten and give back to the community that helped take care of us when we were in need.
But I should know by now that I don’t stand a chance at keeping secrets from Alex.
“When I was a kid, I wanted to play hockey. I lived in Minnesota, where it’s perpetually winter and outside is just one giant ice rink.
Hockey was the sport, you know? But it's so expensive and I didn’t want to put the extra pressure on my mom.
So when she found the youth league sign up flyer I hid in my backpack and asked me if I wanted to play, I lied.
I told her I was afraid of skating, and I played intramural peewee football instead, because the league was free for low income families.
So I never actually learned to skate, and eventually my lie about being afraid turned into something real.
Like, if you’ve never been on a plane, you’d probably be afraid to fly, right?
The older I’ve gotten, the less willing I’ve been to throw caution to the wind and try something new. ”
It's an embarrassing admission, but Alex just tilts his head and nods.
“That makes total sense to me. Like, I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of playing football, but I never seriously played. If you asked me to suit up and stand on a field while a couple of three-hundred-pound linebackers barrel towards me at top speed, I’d probably be freaking out, too.”
“Right,” I laugh. “Except it's not the hockey playing that I’m scared of. I could handle the pucks and the fights. Roller hockey, I could handle. Field hockey, no problem. It’s ice hockey with the sharp, bladed shoes and the slippery surface that has my stomach turning.”
“It doesn’t make a difference which part of the game it is that makes you nervous, El. Apprehension is apprehension, no matter how you look at it.”
It's such a simple notion, but it resonates with something deep inside me, anyway. Maybe it’s the way Alex accepts my irrational fear without judgement. Maybe it’s the way he grips my hands a little tighter in his when I talk about my fears, a subtle reminder that he’s here and he’s got me.
Or maybe it’s the way my entire body is shaking with the urge to lean in and get another taste of those perfect, pink lips. Either way, that biting apprehension is slowly being replaced by Alex’s warmth, spreading through me like ice cream melting down the side of a cone.
“You’re right, Goat. Let’s go.”
He starts gliding backwards again, never taking his eyes off mine, and its magic.
I can’t think about the knives on my feet or the ice melting under them.
I can’t think about rolled ankles or torn ligaments or any other injury when I’m so entranced by the gleam in Alex’s eyes and the way our gloved hands fit so perfectly together.
“Look at you, skating like a pro. You’re doing amazing, El. Next, I’ll teach you how to handle a stick and dribble a puck and before you know it, The Thunder will be trying to steal you away from The Redwoods.”
I blush at the compliment, ignoring the fact that I’m not doing anything but letting him drag me along while I take deep, soothing yoga breaths, but that doesn’t matter.
“Just call me Gretzky,” I say, then immediately stumble on a choppy patch of ice. I lurch forward, stomach swooping as I accept my fate. This is how I die, being dragged around an ice rink like a toddler by a beautiful man.
I suppose there are worse ways to go.
Alex lets go of my hands as I fumble and wraps his arms around my waist. Instead of falling face first into the ice, I fall face first into his chest. I’m too busy trying to keep my feet steady to have the good sense to pull away, so I bury my face into his hoodie as my hands find purchase on his shoulders.
I try to right myself, but the frantic movement of my feet and the skates on the ice has me losing my balance even quicker.
I scramble but I can’t seem to get myself straightened out, even with Alex doing his best to hold me steady.
I whimper, terrified of both eating shit and of embarrassing myself in front of a bunch of kids and adults who can skate circles around me like it’s nothing.
My left foot slips and my knee buckles, and I let out a small sound of terrified protest.
“Please don’t let me fall, Goat,” I murmur into his chest while my feet continue to dance on the ice like out of control cartoon characters.
“I’ve got you, honey. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall,” Alex whispers, his voice so quiet that it’s easy to convince myself I’ve misheard him.
He slides his hands down my back and to the crease where my thighs meet my ass and lifts, pulling me off the ice and into the air.
I wrap my hands around his neck, holding on tight as he skates away, carrying all one hundred and ninety pounds of me like I weigh nothing.
I don’t open my eyes until my ass is planted safely on a bench inside the penalty box, and when I do, Alex is in front of me, crouched down so we’re at eye level. My breath is heavy, and despite the cold air I have a sheen of sweat covering my skin. I am…humiliated.
“Well,” I say with an exaggerated sigh. “That was a little overdramatic, don’t you think?”
Alex snorts, shaking his head before pulling me in for a hug.
“No, El. That was really fucking brave. You faced a fear today. Most people aren’t strong enough to do that, but you did. I’m proud of you.”
His sweet words hit me right in the chest, leaving me with the overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry. He’s so unbelievably kind and understanding. So sure of himself, so completely Alex. Like a mirror reflecting back the version of myself I want to be back at me.
“Do you ever think it’s kind of crazy, how we mesh?” I ask against his shoulder, not wanting to break the hug when his arms feel this good around me. “We’ve only known each other a few weeks, but when I’m with you, I just feel like you…you just see me, you know?”
“I do see you, and I know that you see me, too. We just get each other. I think the universe brought us together for a reason, El.”
We stay in the hug longer than necessary, but I don’t want to be the first one to break away. I want to live in this moment, memorizing the salty, woodsy smell of Alex’s skin and the feel of his breath on my neck.
Ah, fuck. I am a lying liar who lies.
I need to be more careful, because I am totally running the risk of falling head over heels for this man.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he mumbles against my neck. His lips brush my skin and I shudder.
“Yeah, I want to talk to you about something, too,” I say.
Because as good as he feels in my arms, as much as I want to wrap myself up in him and just hold him close, I can’t lose myself in the sensation when my heart is at risk of joining the chat.
I need to tell him that we’ve got to cool it with the physical touch or I’m going to revert back to the twenty year old version of myself who convinces himself that he can change a straight man if he just tries hard enough.
Alex hums, pulling away from the hug. I miss the warmth of him immediately, and I can’t stop the way my eyes roll to the back of my head, annoyed at my own pathetic urges.
I’m so fucked.
He helps me pull the death skates off and we decide to ditch the rink and go for waffles.
We find a hole in the wall diner two blocks away and settle into a brightly lit, linoleum lined corner booth.
A middle-aged woman who introduces herself as Polly and who has three pencils tucked behind her ear takes our order—two coffees, a chocolate chip waffle for Alex and a whole wheat Belgian waffle with berries and cream for me—and when she’s gone, Alex folds his hands on the sticky tabletop.
“Do you want to go first, or should I?”
I rub a hand over the back of my neck, unsure of how I want to say what I need to say.
I don’t want to make Alex feel uncomfortable.
It’s not his fault that his touchy-feely nature and general Alex-ness turns me on so much, but if we’re going to be friends, I really need a little bit of physical distance.
Polly slides two oversized mugs filled to the rim with black coffee onto the table, and I take a deep inhale, letting the bitter, caffeinated smell give me strength.
“I’ll go first. I love being your friend, Goat.
I’ve loved getting to know you over the past few weeks.
I don’t want to make things weird, but I’m attracted to you.
I’m having a hard time getting my brain and my body on the same page.
My brain knows that we’re friends, but when we hug and hold hands and stuff, it's hard for me to keep my attraction pushed down. I’m not blaming you—I know it's not your fault that I’ve got this crush, and I know you’re not intentionally being flirty with me.
I just think I need a little bit of physical space so I can get past this attraction, and then I’ll be good.
So maybe no long, lingering hugs for a little bit?
Just until I can get past this stupid little crush, and then we can go back to being the friends we’ve become. ”
Alex bobs his head, contemplating, and I feel like a total asshole.
Like I just victim-blamed him for being cute and forcing me to be attracted to him by just existing.
My stomach turns, and I take a long sip of the shitty coffee to try to settle myself while I try to think of ways to take back everything I’ve just said and move on like nothing ever happened.
Alex, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, reaches across the table and places a hand on top of mine.
“Elliot, I think we should hook up. Like, soon. Tonight, if you’re up for it.”
He squeezes my hand and I choke on my coffee, coughing and spitting the brown liquid all over the table—and Alex’s face.