Chapter Twelve #2
“I loved going fast. I thought about trying hockey, but then I saw speed skating and I was a goner,” Ben continued. “Addicted at minute one.”
I realized that he’d probably just sent young Nathan down the same path.
“You like this performance?” Ben teased, doing exaggerated backward wiggles. “Totally worthy of the gold.”
It was a routine for a baby skater, with one foot glides, tap toe jumps, and lots of what I assumed was vamping to give his partner time to show off. I wasn’t surprised that he was graceful, but it was clear that his skating skills now outpaced the choreography and he was dumbing himself down.
“How old were you?”
“I was seven, my partner was six.” He did some forward crossovers. “Oh, this is the part coming up where we did a waist lift.”
“At seven years old?”
He chuckled. “I was strong for my age and Bella weighed about twenty pounds total. A bent arms lift, not over the head. Our
coach really pushed us.”
I snorted. “A pushy coach? Wow, I’m shocked.”
“Get over here, lemme see if I’ve still got it.” Ben reached out to me.
I wondered if I physically recoiled from him.
“Oh, no way, I’m good,” I replied quickly, because I didn’t want to be reminded of how it felt to have Ben’s strong hands
gripping my waist.
“C’mon,” he pleaded.
He attempted a toe loop that I could tell wasn’t in the original program because he nearly fell on his ass.
“This is the part where it’s supposed to happen,” he mimed, holding someone in front of him and lifting ever so slightly while
eyeballing me. “I could totally do it. You’re tiny.”
The old me would’ve pocketed the throwaway comment to be dissected later, because the t word was always my goal. Now I knew that the scale didn’t reflect anything about my overall health. Or worthiness.
“I’m heavier than I look.”
“Okay, biceps,” he said admiringly as he did easy two-legged spins. “I see those muscles. But I still think you’re basically a feather in human form. So let me try.” He paused. “Wait, have you ever done a lift?”
“Yes.” I frowned at him. “Of course I have.”
Only goofing around with Zoey, but still. It counted.
“I don’t believe you,” he teased. “I don’t think you have the skills to be a partner, Miss Independent.”
“Negging doesn’t work on me,” I said as I skated over to him and snowplowed a thin layer of ice at his skates. I turned around
in front of him and we moved in tandem. “Fine. Lift me.”
I didn’t have to ask him twice.
“Yes! Ready? Keep your core tight,” he said as he skated behind me.
I gawked at him over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, are you seriously mansplaining figure skating to me?”
“Sorry, just a safety precaution. Okay, let’s do this.”
Celine hit some high notes right as I felt Ben’s surprisingly warm palms close around my waist. I’d already peeled off my
fleece, leaving just a thin Lycra layer between my skin and Ben’s hands. When he connected I jumped as if he’d singed me.
“Sorry,” he repeated. Ben adjusted his grip and I could’ve sworn his thumbs slipped down a little lower than required, to
graze the top of my ass.
No, that was just him making sure that he had a good hold. It wasn’t like he could risk dropping me given my Fabergé egg status
until after the Games.
I felt him dip slightly, to ready his quads.
“Split legs, not stag,” he coached. “Move with me.”
I nodded and tried to focus on the mechanics of skating backward with Ben holding me, and not the feverish heat spreading
through my body.
“And up she . . . goes.”
His hands went tighter as he raised me into the air, pausing when my skates were about a foot off the ice. I felt like a toddler
being helped up to a water fountain.
“Higher,” I demanded over my shoulder. “This doesn’t look cute at all.”
“Well okay, then. Going up,” Ben said as he lifted me so my head was just above his.
I leaned back and extended my hands gracefully. Ben wobbled from the fulcrum shift.
“Why are you doing stag legs? I said split,” Ben huffed from behind me.
“Because it’s prettier,” I snapped back at him, defiantly raising my knee even more, so that I was fully inhabiting the deer-jumping-a-fence pose.
Celine warbled on as we found a position that was comfortable enough for Ben and elegant enough for me.
I think we both felt the moment when we dissolved into a single unit. Instead of fighting against gravity and each other we
became helium, trying to stay tethered to the ice so we didn’t float up to the rafters.
We were effortlessly perfect.
Ben raised me higher still, and I took advantage of the extra airspace by arching my back even more. I could’ve kept improvising
with him forever, but when he gave me an extra squeeze I knew he was about to lower me. I did Vaganova arms one last time
as he brought me down, until my skates connected to the ice, so gently that I could’ve been landing on a pillow.
“Big finish,” Ben said softly, still holding me by the waist. “Now turn to me.”
I did an abrupt spin and wound up crushed against his body.
He placed one hand against my head and gently drew it to his shoulder then circled the other around my waist, clutching me tightly.
Our chests rose and fell in tandem, partly from the exertion but mainly because being pressed together felt like a terrible idea.
Terrible or not, there was no way I was moving out of his embrace. The only time I’d ever felt as safe was four years ago,
in the exact same position. It was almost like Ben’s strong arms belonged around me, and we both knew it.
“I can smell you,” Ben murmured against my hair.
I wasn’t even sweaty yet!
“Excuse me?” I put my hands on his chest to push him away but he tightened his grip.
“It’s a sense memory. It reminds me of that night in Switzerland,” he continued. He inhaled deeply. “I’ve caught traces of
you in a springtime breeze, and now I’m finally getting a full hit. It’s you, but mixed with blossoms and fresh air. Let me
enjoy it for a second, please.”
His confession left me breathless. Ben had cataloged my scent? The thought of him tilting his head back and trying to catch whispers of me in the wind made me cling to him a little tighter.
The finale of a performance was supposed to be the period at the end of a sentence. An obvious stopping point. But our embrace
with our hearts pounding in rhythm felt like a line on the first page of a very long story.
Despite that, or probably because of it, we silently agreed to remain pressed together, clinging to each other until the overhead
lights flipped on again.