6. Soleil
SOLEIL
Dear Diary,
Wow. Fresh notebook! Fresh skills!
Big news. Stop the damn presses.
This morning when I woke up, there was a wrapped present at the foot of my bed.
It was a new pair of skates. From Dad. He apologized for the stupid argument we had yesterday and said if I still want lessons that the new assistant coach he hired is available to teach me in the mornings.
I asked him about their game schedule and travel days, and he said not to worry about it.
That this guy’s new so he’s not going to be traveling with them all the time.
I was so happy I didn’t question it. He made me breakfast and then dropped me off at the outdoor rink.
I was expecting this new assistant coach to be douchey like Kyle was, but Dean Rafferty is nice.
And hot. I don’t even know how it’s possible he didn’t melt the ice, because his butt is fire.
As soon as my dad left, I asked Dean to demonstrate how to skate ahead of me so I could study his posture.
What I was really studying was his posterior, of course.
He ordered me to stay off the ice until he came back to guide me.
“Hold on to the board,” he said, kinda gruffly. “Or sit down on the bench. No walking onto the ice until I’m with you. Got it?”
“Yes, sir, Coach,” I said. I don’t usually like being bossed around, but he had a way with orders. And he really had a way with wearing joggers. He looked good coming and going, in fact.
He skated all around the rink once by himself.
His grace and athleticism really got to me.
Dad told me on the way to the rink that Dean played for the NHL for two years before sustaining a hip injury that forced him to quit.
I couldn’t help but wonder as soon as I met him if that hip injury limited his mobility in any way.
Not that it would be a good idea for us to date.
But Dad seemed to like him. He gave him such a meaningful, strong handshake before he left me alone with him, so who knows.
And by the way he skated around the rink, he appeared pretty good at moving to me.
He came back around at a good speed and then came to a hockey stop.
Turned his skates perpendicular and dug the edges into the ice.
Sharp. Cleaned. Perfectly controlled. There was a spray of ice shavings.
The effortless competence was just so attractive to watch.
“Can you teach me how to do that?” I asked.
“Eventually,” he said. “Baby steps, Baby Bear.”
“How’d you know that’s my nickname?” I asked.
“Your dad may have mentioned it,” he said. Then he held both his hands out to me and said, “Shall we?”
He held my hand while I walked over to the swinging door in the boards, and I stopped to steady myself before he swung the door open. I walked onto the ice like I had Bambi legs, but he held both my hands like I was his queen.
The ice looked different from that angle.
Slippery and foreign and just a little threatening.
I found myself hesitating for just a second.
I felt this flash of panic that made absolutely no sense.
But I stepped out onto the ice anyway. I could feel Dean Rafferty watching me, knowing he’d be studying my every move.
I wanted him to know that I’m brave, that I’m willing to take risks.
When I glanced up at him he had this look in his eyes, like, Atta girl.
I started to take another step, but he stood in front of me, blocking me, and said, “Hold on to the boards first.”
I caught my breath. For a second, I forgot where we were. He wanted me to hold on to the board. “Yes, sir,” I said, since he didn’t tell me not to.
“Face the ice. Hold on with both hands behind yourself. You’re gonna get the feel of the blade on the surface of the ice.” He stood beside me. Close, but not hovering.
I looked down at my feet in the skates.
“Just feel the blade,” he said. “Don’t try to go anywhere yet. Just get used to standing on the blade.”
I had my pink jacket on, but the way I was standing, I was sticking my boobs out.
When I looked up from my feet to his face, I caught him glancing back up from my chest. I grinned at him, but then I lost my balance.
I don’t even know how, since I wasn’t moving and I was holding on to the board, but my foot kind of slid out.
He grabbed my waist with both hands to hold me steady.
“You good?” he asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think we’re ready for the next step.”
“Buy a girl dinner first, why don’t you?” I said.
No response. No reaction. Nada. He had me march.
Not glide. March. Literally, he told me to pick my feet up and then put them down, one after the other.
While holding on to the board with one hand.
“It’ll get you used to the blade. The resistance.
The sound,” he explained. He stood next to me but didn’t touch me.
“I want you to find your center of gravity and get a feel for your own balance. Not mine.”
“I look dumb.”
“Everyone looks dumb at first.”
“Not the reassurance I was looking for.”
“You look pretty and dumb,” he said, looking down at my feet. “How’s that?”
I marched all the way around the rink once while holding on to the board. Then once without support. He stayed slightly behind me and to the side, with one hand up.
“If I fall, are you going to catch me or high-five me?”
He said nothing but gave me a look that told me he wanted to spank me.
I was fine with that.
After completing that trek around the rink, he determined that I was ready to push off one foot and let the other glide.
“Just one push,” he said. “Just to feel it.” He skated backward, in front of me.
I was too delighted by my ability to glide forward on the ice in skates to remark on how unfair it was that he looked so hot and it looked so easy for him to skate backward like that while I had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other without falling.
But we did that. For, like, half an hour straight.
At varying speeds. He’d skate backward in front of me, and I’d try to catch up with him.
Sometimes I wobbled, sometimes I didn’t.
He made it clear to me, wordlessly, that he would be there for me if I needed him.
He gave me the agency to choose. There was something so strong and masculine about his assurance.
Then all of a sudden I heard Jessie calling my name. “Solly! Oh my God! Solly!” I nearly fell over when I turned around to follow her voice, but Dean grabbed my arm to steady me. Jessie had her phone up like she was filming us. But she was jumping up and down.
“What are you doing here?!” I called out.
“Your dad texted me!” She waved.
“You want to skate to her on your own?” Dean asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
He let me go, and I did. I skated to her on my own. I just watched her on the other side of the boards, with her mouth gaping and her phone up, filming me. I slammed into the board, and she wrapped her arms around me. Her chest was heaving.
“Are you crying?” I asked. Her cheek felt wet.
“Shut up. I just filmed you skating with a hot guy. Wanna see?”
Obviously I did. She showed me on her phone.
I told her to text it to me, even though I won’t be able to see it for three more days of digital detox.
But wow. Dean and I looked hot together.
I looked so happy as I skated toward her.
She was being an emotional nutjob over me having a skating lesson, but whatever.
“I just had to come by and see you,” she said. “I gotta go back to work.” She hugged me again, so tight, as if we didn’t just see each other three days ago when I helped her pick out an outfit for her Valentine’s date.
“I’ll call you when I get my phone back, okay?” I said.
She pursed her lips and nodded. “Take care of my girl!” she called out to Dean. Then she leaned in again and said, “Oh my God, he is so hot.”
“Is he? I hadn’t noticed,” I said sarcastically.
She ran off, blowing kisses like a drama queen.
And Dean and I got back to my lesson.
After he felt I’d nailed the glide, he let me skate in front of him to see how fast I was comfortable going. We had the rink to ourselves by then, which was something.
He told me to just go from one end to the other, down the middle, without trying to turn. I did that five times, working up to a modest speed, without losing my balance.
I was elated.
I felt good.
It was exhilarating.
The sixth time, I decided to attempt a hockey stop without telling him first. I committed to the stop and turned my feet.
But one foot caught and the other didn’t.
I did sort of a desperate spinning wobble that was not hot and my arms flailed around, grabbing whatever was nearest, and it turned out it was him.
He was right there. Behind me. I felt his arms around me.
His strong arms around my torso and my arms. I felt the steadiness of him.
His height. His stillness. We just stood there like that for infinity minutes, it seemed. His jaw against my temple.
Slowly, I started to angle myself to face him.
He loosened his grip on me. I turned around the rest of the way quickly, lost my balance, had to grab onto his hoodie.
His arms were around my waist. I was breathless.
I could hear my heart beating so fast, but I flattened my palm against his chest because I could feel his.
I tilted my head to look up at him. His jaw was tense. His hazel eyes were searching mine. Questioning me. Did he want me to kiss him? I wanted to. I wanted to kiss him. I tilted my chin, parted my lips. Closed my eyes.
Waited.
“Soleil…” he whispered.
I felt his head jerk back.
The rush of cold air as he pulled away from me. He held on to my forearms. My hands. Made sure I didn’t fall.
He waited until I was definitely steady on my feet before he let me go.
I didn’t apologize. Neither did he. He just stood there, four feet away from me, and said, “I think you accomplished a lot today. How do you feel?”
I felt horny. I felt frustrated. I felt more excited than I’d felt in years. Because I was finally skating. But mostly because of him.
“I’m really proud of myself and I’m happy,” I said.
He smiled. It was the first time he’d smiled all morning. And gosh darn it, he had a dimple. “Good.”
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Good. I’m proud of you too.”
“Happy?”
His smile faded. “Happy for you.”
“Can we do this again tomorrow?”
His faded smile became a determined frown. “Absolutely. I’ll be here.”
“We’ll continue where we left off?”
He licked his lips, nodded once, and said, “Absolutely.”
I asked him if he wanted to grab a coffee with me, but he said he promised my dad he’d drop me off right after the skating lesson.
So that’s what happened.
I wish we lived farther away from the park. We didn’t talk while he drove. He had a nice, new pickup truck. It had that new-car smell. It was sexy.
When he pulled into the driveway, Noah’s car was there but Dad’s wasn’t.
So I unbuckled my seat belt, picked up my skates, and said, “Thanks for a great first date,” and leaned in really fast to kiss him on the cheek before he could pull away.
Then I was out the door and my plan was to run, but it felt weird wearing regular shoes on concrete.
So I walked slowly. And hoped he was checking out my butt.
I’m going to sleep early because I can’t wait for the morning to come.
My leg muscles feel toned, and I think I’ll try to kiss Dean on the mouth tomorrow.
I know he’s trying to be good, but maybe life is too short for us to worry about how Dad thinks he’ll feel if I date his assistant coach.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll kiss Dean until he falls on his ass.