CHAPTER 101
Ana
EVERYONE ALWAYS brAGGED about summer. But the real magic was in winter.
Blankets of snow, lakes glimmering into temporary ice rinks, winter formals, the holidays, sleigh rides, hot toddies during the cold nights, all wrapped in a red velvet bow with the finale of Winterfest, and then every four years, the Winter Games.
A week from New Year’s Day, and I wake up to a maze of festive wreaths embellished in string lights, my favorite pair of maroon rain boots crunching through the snow, feeling each dust of white land over my cheeks, realizing, for the first time in ages, I didn’t miss Christmas.
I haven’t missed Christmas.
This town favors the winter season so much that separate from January’s jam-packed carnival activities, there’s a whole set of skating events hosted by non-Academy members who rent out the rink space for the few weeks while our staff prepares for its own Christmas recitals and winter showcases.
Naomi and I are just heading out the door for a Holiday on Ice performance when I receive a text from Troy mentioning to come over to his apartment a few hours earlier tonight.
We’re all going to watch a movie, Troy selecting A Christmas Carol, while Naomi insisted that we bake festive sugar cookies.
Although I forget why I even invited Naomi, not when I just filled her in about Troy—sparing her the details that involved him and me in his bed, though Naomi could read between the lines. She rarely couldn’t.
Translation: she refuses to stop making fun of me or remove her gaze from the two of us every few seconds it seems once we’ve arrived at his place to start decorating the sweets.
At first Troy doesn’t suspect a thing, the tip of his tongue flicked out from a corner of his lips, his gaze, his capable fingers—kneading into the dough—all focused on morphing the cookies into the snowman and reindeer-shaped stencils.
But Naomi starts to giggle—noticing me staring at his arms—and at the teasing snicker, Troy darts his eyes up at me and then at her and then at me again when he catches my thumb stick into the giant tub of vanilla frosting by accident.
My heart starts to flicker, watching, not being able to tear my gaze off his forearms, the way the heels of his hands start digging into the dough, a moan about to climb up my throat, each tight circle flooding back things we no longer do. Together.
And suddenly the room, courtesy from the oven—and the tension now resting over Troy’s jaw and neck as his friends rush in—feels like a sauna.
_________
Troy
Everyone arrived late. Even after I told everyone to arrive earlier, everyone arrived late.
Which would be fine if my stomach wasn’t jumping—flying—with nerves tonight.
The movie’s also running late even though Naomi, Karl, and Kyle zoned out a while ago, calling A Christmas Carol “boring”, deciding they’d much rather play Uno together at the kitchen table instead.
I text Ana from across the room, as we lift from our seats, hearing Louis scold us, “Shhh, this is the best part.”
Ana laughs at him as we pass by the rest of my friends, the two of us tiptoeing out the room and into the hallway.
“Did you bring your skates?” I ask Ana quietly.
“Yes,” she says, still confused by my text. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
A surprise I hope she likes. A surprise I’ve been trying my damn hardest not to shit my pants about, really hoping she likes.
Carpooling together in my car, I drive us in the opposite direction of the Lake.
When we arrive by a snow-covered trail, walking past a Christmas tree farm and the group of people purchasing last-minute trees, I can already feel the deep crease of Ana’s brows as she snaps toward me.
“Remember when I said I trust you?” she says, while I eye her suspiciously. “Yeah, rethinking that big time right now.”
Rolling my eyes, I ignore her sarcasm, knowing how close we are, spotting the corner of the gate from the distance.
When we reach the large chunk of ice, Ana’s eyes widen keenly like she’s very impressed, and that nearly does make me shit my pants.
“What is this place?” she asks, clearly not recognizing it.
“It’s new,” I say.
“That looks really—long.” She gulps.
“A mile, to be exact.”
She swings her face to me, her gaze raised in pure shock.
No, there’s no way you could possibly remember that, her eyes say.
Yes, I remember all the things you thought I never noticed about you.
Ana stares at me, her eyes glistening. “You remember.”
I love you.
“I remember.”
I’m transported back to the old memories, the recesses we hit our elementary school playground and even with wood chips stuck to her chocolate tendrils, I was a complete goner. The times I never thought we’d be this close, dreamed of it, but didn’t dare think it’d ever come true.
Her eyes as mesmerized by the scene before her now, bright the way they were over those glittery paper stars dipped in gold and silver when we were little kids, her hands fold over her mouth in complete awe.
“This must have cost you a fortune,” Ana says.
“Best purchase I’ve made by a mile. No pun intended.” She laughs, but it hiccups in her throat, and that nearly knocks me to the snowy ground. “You deserve so much more. But city architecture laws and shit.”
“How long’s it open for?”
“‘Til late February.”
“Just so I could skate on it a few times?”
“Just so you could skate on it once.”
She grins, still in disbelief.
“And it’s private,” I add. “It’s all yours.”
Something that can be all hers. Even if it’s not me.
“How did you—when did you build this?”
“A few months ago I called this rink architect in Sweden and he flew all the way here with his team to build it. I’ve been meaning to do it. But,” I sigh, still not knowing quite how to express how much I feel for her. “This year felt like the right time.”
“Even after everything I did, how I behaved, you were doing this?”
“This wasn’t about me. It was for you.” She smiles so damn bright, it reaches my eyes. “And for the times I rubbed having money in your face, Ana, I forgot to also apologize about that.”
“I really don’t know what to say. Wow.”
“Then go skate.” Her gaze flickers in excitement at my words. “A guy will come and smooth the ice at least twice a day, but if you need additional resurfacing just let me know.”
“Thank you, Troy. This—you’re actually insane.”
“No problem.”
And I watch as she laces up her boots, stepping onto the ice, skating away like this place was specifically made for her.