Chapter Eighteen
“So, I was hoping we could try something fun. It’ll be quick, I promise.”
Ben skated alongside me as we headed back to the players’ box. We’d just finished up our early morning on-ice interview while
Neil did a damn good job of filming us while skating backward.
“Remember, no off camera fun allowed,” I wagged a finger at him as I came to a stop.
I realized after I said it that it was too late. Somehow, fixing a flat tire with him had been fun. Going for a walk and getting
behind-the-scenes Dancing with the Stars gossip had been fun. Watching him eat up my studio time with my dance teacher had been fun. “Fun” was his level set, and
when I was with him I had no choice but to partake.
“Oh, this is for the show. I would never force you to enjoy yourself, don’t worry,” he winked at me, and I found it unsettlingly
sexy. “I thought it would be cool if you tried speed skating. It could be a silly little interstitial, you know? But no pressure
to do it if you don’t want to.”
He looked so hopeful that I felt like I had no choice.
Doing the segment made sense from a show perspective, since it would allow the audience to see Ben in his element doing his thing and me making a fool of myself as I tried to keep up with him.
Cute. Silly. I’d been so rigid about what I would and wouldn’t allow in the piece that I sort of felt I owed him the favor of giving it a shot.
“Okay, but without the special skates it’ll just look regular. I guess you can coach me on the posture and stuff, but it won’t
be as fish out of water without those long blades.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Ben said as he hopped off the ice and wobbled over to his duffel bag in the player’s box. “Check
this out.”
He unzipped it and pulled out a pair of speed skates that looked well-loved but serviceable.
“Wait . . . are they even my size?” I asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about the impromptu lesson.
“Yep.” Ben held them out to me.
“Where did they come from?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, I know people,” he replied. “Are you in?”
I looked at Neil as he skated over to us from where Hailey was on the other side of the ice with a camera on a tripod. We
still had about thirty minutes before anyone showed up.
After micromanaging everything, I felt like I needed to let him have a win.
“Sure. I’m in.”
“Let’s go,” Ben clapped. “Yes! This’ll be cute.” He paused. “Not like in a puppy who can’t walk on wood floors way, though. In a ‘Quinn’s
good at everything’ way.”
Neil came to an impressive hockey stop at the boards and balanced the camera on the edge of it. “We doing it?”
“We are,” I said with a grimace as I took the skates from Ben and studied them. “Cut away when I fall, please.”
“Oh come on,” Neil replied. “You’re not a total novice. You obviously have incredible strength and balance. You know your
edges. You have spatial awareness, and you understand the ice. You’ll be great.”
I held up a speed skate–clad foot. “Yeah, but what the hell is this? The blade is so freaking long.”
“And that’s why we go so fast!” Ben laughed. “You’ll see.”
I paused. “Did you bring your skates?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t. This isn’t about me. I was worried that if I brought them it might turn into the Ben show, which
is why I only have my regular skates. Don’t worry, I can coach you in these.”
It was so uncharacteristic of him that I had to fight to keep my mouth from dropping open in shock. Ben lived for the spotlight. Or at least the version of him that I used to know did.
I finished lacing them and stood up. “Okay, it already feels weird. Like I’m standing on two by fours.”
Ben turned to Neil. “Can you get all this?”
He nodded and hoisted the camera to his shoulder.
I watched Ben shift into performance mode the moment the camera switched on.
“Before we get out there I’m going to let you in on a little superstition of mine,” he said, pausing at the doorway. “No one
knows, so consider it an exclusive. I always, always have to make sure that I step out on the ice using my right foot.”
I thought back to our first morning at the rink, because I’d noticed that he’d seemed tentative.
“It’s a little OCD, I know. But now it’s so ingrained that it’s nonnegotiable. If I forget, I have to leave the ice, take my skates off, put them back on, and head out on the ice leading with my right foot.”
Ben wasn’t calling it OCD in a jokey way. I’d known many athletes who had to fight through versions of the condition, especially
when it came to preperformance rituals. I knew better than to call him on it, especially since he’d just admitted to the world
that even the great Magic Martino could be governed by intrusive thoughts.
“So are you saying that I should step out on my right foot?” I asked him.
“I mean, it works for me,” he laughed.
“Three gold medals can’t be wrong. I need all the help I can get.” I did an exaggerated step out onto the ice using my right
foot.
“Feel okay?” Ben asked the minute I touched it to the ice.
I moved my now gigantic feet back and forth.
“Absolutely not,” I replied, trying to find a graceful way to stand but feeling like a duck. “My body usually goes into autopilot
when I get out on the ice and I can’t. It feels so weird! Like, where’s my toe pick?”
“No toe pick, and you’ve got a seventeen-inch-long blade, which is way longer than you should be in given your size and your
newbie status. But beggars can’t be choosers, so we’ll make it work.”
Neil did graceful arcs around us a short distance away. I glanced over at Hailey and saw that she was filming as well.
“Okay, guess it’s time for me to humiliate myself. I’m all yours, coach.”
I went pink at the accidental implication, but Ben ignored it.
“Let’s first get you used to the new sensation,” he said. “Just move with me.”
My body tried to react as it normally would but my feet felt sluggish. Still, I managed to come across halfway graceful as I glided along beside him.
“Okay,” he nodded approvingly. “Looking good, Albright! We’re about to hit a corner, are you ready for crossovers?”
I attempted to do the move that I could perform forward, backward, and upside down in my regular skates. Crossovers were a
foundational move I’d been doing since I was a child, but when I tried one in speed skates I nearly fell on my ass when my
front blade hit my rear one. I threw my arms out to the side for balance like a newbie on the ice for the first time.
“So close,” he said encouragingly. “Try placing your foot down quicker and push through that crossover.”
I did another slightly more successful version the second time around.
“Okay, there she is! Gorgeous,” Ben applauded.
Praise from Ben did something to me even though I knew he was lying. I wanted to impress him. I wanted him to think that I
was effortlessly good at the sport he’d dedicated his life to.
My crossovers continued to be shaky but I didn’t fall, so there was that.
“Okay, straightaway time.” He pointed down the rink. “Regular strides. Let’s get some speed.”
It was another move that was as natural for me as walking, yet in the speed skates I couldn’t help the ridiculous little wobble
after each push off.
I pointed to my feet. “That’s a lot more real estate down there than I’m used to.”
“Yeah, but you’re a natural. You’re already doing instinctive weight transfers. Now let’s work that posture a little to make
you look official. Watch me for a sec.”
He sped up so that he was in front of me and hunched into the low, crouched speed skating position, which meant that I was being forced to stare at his ass. I hoped the camera angles didn’t make it look too obvious. He turned around to face me.
“Now you. Deep knee bend, and get that back low, like you’re a table.”
I crouched in an approximation of what he’d just done.
“Lower, and flatten that back!”
My thighs reacted like I’d never done a squat in my life.
“Okay, now hold that and follow behind me,” he barked.
Freaking impossible.
Ben started doing the ubiquitous shifting that speed skaters did on straightaways, swinging his arms in time. The up close
and personal vantage point proved how graceful he was, and within a few seconds of watching I found my body adapting to his
rhythm. My strides evened out, until we were nearly in perfect cadence, like we were waltzing.
He did a quick turn to watch me and I struggled to keep the same rhythm without him demonstrating it for me.
“Yeah! Look at you!”
“Is this right?” I asked, suddenly feeling awkward.
“One hundred percent,” he said. “I’m really impressed.”
Mission accomplished.
Ben went over some of the other basic skills, and I started to feel more comfortable in the skates.
He slowed down until he was beside me again and we fell back in step. “Now let’s crank up the heat. Show me what ya got. Ready?”
For a couple of seconds it looked like he was running on his toes picks since he was in regular skates that actually had them, then the next thing I knew he was half the rink away from me. I could see Neil laughing so I took the bait and chased after Ben.
I was fast but obviously not as fast as him. I put up a decent if awkward fight until he slowed down for me.
“My thighs,” I straightened up and glided beside him. “How am I feeling it already?”
“Yeah, it’s an anatomically uncomfortable sport. You get used to it. Sort of.”
“So are we racing or what?” I asked him.
His eyes went wide. “Hold up. You really want more smoke after what I just did to you?”
I hitched a shoulder. “Why not? I think you might be rusty now, old man.”
“Whoo-hoo,” Ben said and turned in a circle, addressing an imaginary audience. “She’s trash talking! I was trying to be nice
to you but not anymore. We’re doing this.”
He quickly described start position and the takeoff to me and we lined up side by side. Neil acted as our official.
“Go to the start,” Neil called out. “Ready.”
We lowered ourselves into the deep squat.
“Go!”
The sound of our skates echoed around the rink as we ran on the ice. My takeoff was shockingly strong, but everyone watching
knew that I didn’t have a chance at beating a three-time Olympic gold medalist at his own sport.
I wanted Ben to have a chance to show off. To remind the audience watching The Score that the kickass interviewer was also a peerless athlete. And I wanted to get close to the magic he made on the ice, like
his winning streak might rub off on me.
I put on a sloppy, giggly show half the rink behind him. I could tell he hadn’t even moved out of second gear in an effort to let me save face. When he glanced back at me, he was laughing too.
Yeah, I now had zero doubt that having fun with Ben was a given.