Krystal #2
Just like that, the energy shifts from a sauntering heat to something light and jovial.
His face lights up with laughter as he walks our two empty mugs over to the tray of dirty dishes.
I need to thank Rae yet again for gifting me with this trip because right now, being here with Nick feels nothing short of a Christmas miracle.
???
My palms itch as we drive down into the city to the ice skating rink.
I haven’t been in years, and the little girl inside me is giddy at the idea of putting those skates on again.
Nick has been silent for most of the ride, flipping through the images on his camera and seeming uninterested whenever Gayle gives us a tidbit about today’s activity.
“Not much into skating?” I nudge his shoulder. I love the smile that instantly spreads across his lips when I catch his attention.
“Not at all.”
“Wait, really? Why?” I ask.
He chuckles. “I grew up in Florida, wasn’t much skating to be into,” he explains. “What about you?”
“I grew up in Philly, but we would spend every Christmas in North Carolina with my grandparents. They had a lake in their backyard that would freeze over. My dad taught me how to skate, and then, I fell in love with it. Somehow, I feel like that first moment on the ice, when I realized the power of my body, is how I ended up teaching Pilates.”
“So that’s what she does,” he says, his head falling back as if this was a question he had in mind for a while now. Before I can follow up, he asks. “How did you end up in New York?”
I swallow, understanding how pathetic I’m about to sound. “I…I moved there to be with my ex. He wanted to leave Philly and go to New York, and I followed right behind him.”
“Why stay?” He asks. My eyes lift to find his, glowing with eagerness, keen on latching on to every bit of information I’m willing to give. I find no pity or sympathy, just pure interest.
I shrug, emboldened by the confidence I find in his safety.
There’s not an ounce of judgment between the two of us.
As if this understanding freed some hidden weight from my shoulders, I slump back in the seat.
My bones ache with repose as if they’d been working all this time to keep all the shame I’d been carrying hidden from my conscious mind. In Nick’s patient company, I rest.
“I honestly just never had the thought to leave. Plus, I’ve been working at that studio for a while now.
If I leave, I’ll have to start over somewhere else.
” I look down at my hands. I’m already starting over, in a sense.
Maybe it makes sense to get out of New York.
All my friends, except Rae, were friends I had as Jeremy’s girl, and Rae just wants me to be happy at the end of the day.
I wouldn’t be leaving anything behind, getting out of Harlem.
“Well, if you ever do have the thought to, I think DC would look good on you,” he rocks into my shoulder.
My head bounces back up so I can look him in the eye again. “Is that where you are?”
“Would it increase your chances of coming if it were?” He inquires, his tongue darting out against his lower lip.
I scrunch my nose. Shake my head forward. Anything to distract myself from the way his mouth makes my core melt. “There’s no way you’re single.”
His laughter alerts the entire vehicle, and I smack him playfully in the center of his chest.
“Hate to disappoint you, but I’m as single as a man can be,” he chuckles.
“Not even like…to keep your bed warm at night?” I ask, looking away so I don’t have to account for the flush of blood flooding my cheeks.
He lowers his mouth to my ear so I’m the only one who can hear him. His breath skates across my cheeks as I fight the shiver threatening to roll through my body. “You concerned about the warmth in my bed, Krys?”
My throat dries, my eyes flick to his — heavy lidded and drooping with lust. “Maybe it’s my bed I don’t want to be cold anymore…
at least…not for the next nine days.” My words are bold, but my heart threatens to beat its way through my chest and out the window.
Am I throwing myself at a near-perfect stranger?
Feels perfect. Doesn’t feel like a stranger.
Everything in my nervous system tells me that the anxiety rolling through me is stemming from the possibility of rejection and not from anything to do with him.
I’m not sure if the absence of that fear should alarm me more, or if it’s another sign that this trip, that meeting him, was exactly what I needed.
When he doesn’t respond, a new wave of anxiety flows through me. My eyes snap to his, and I’m struck once again by the unadulterated desire coursing behind them. I hum, amused with myself. “Didn’t take you for the type to fall speechless so easily,” I jest.
His chin falls to his chest with a silent laugh, his mouth still crooked in that sexy smirk. “I’m just glad we’re on the same page.”
I tuck my lip beneath my teeth as I look in the other direction. Heat originates at the back of my neck and pools at my center. Then, always on cue, the shuttle stops in the parking lot of the park, and Gayle announces that we’ve arrived.
The park is gorgeous in the afternoon. The snow glitters under the intense rays of the sun.
There’s a food truck waiting just off the corner and as I turn, taking in the scenery, the smell of fresh popcorn hangs on a gentle wind.
I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia so sudden, it almost brings me to my knees.
Gayle directs us to the booth where we’ll get our skate rentals, and I follow the crowd. My fingers tremble partly from the brisk cold, but also because of the eager buzz humming through my body. I didn’t realize how badly I missed this, how much I’ve been neglecting the little girl in my heart.
The attendant hands the skates over, and I hoist them in the air, tossing a smile over my shoulder that I somehow know will find Nick.
My heart stutters when I realize I’m actually smiling back, that he’s been watching from a distance this entire time.
I shake my head, scuttle over to a nearby bench and slip out of my boots and into the skates.
I glance over to him again, but he’s back to fiddling with his camera, so I finally make my way onto the ice.
It’s like butter under the blades of the skates.
I take a couple of laps just gliding, careful of the children and amateurs as I pick up speed.
It’s like riding a bike after years of not owning one. At first, your movements are a bit unsure until your body remembers that it knows what it’s doing. Then your confidence chases away the caution, and you can hover over the seat; all of a sudden, you can ride with no hands again.
That’s how it feels when, without even thinking, I pick my leg up and tuck it under myself.
My arms lift above my head and I know I’m twirling, but it doesn’t quite feel like it.
It feels like shedding all the insecurities, bad memories, and lonely nights.
I feel like I’m flying. I don’t know when the smile on my face blooms, but I feel my cheeks burning and I hear the sound of my voice tumbling out of me in laughter.
I remember when I was packing my things, getting ready to leave our old place, and finding an old picture of me from college before we started dating.
It was worn — creased down the center, dog-eared, and the laminate began to separate from the paper backing.
I remember not recognizing her. The Krystal in that photo — with bright red streaks, laughing uncontrollably with a red cup, double stacked and tilted precariously, with chaos and wanderlust filling her eyes — didn’t exist anymore.
Out here on the ice, outpacing the wind. I feel the spirit of her awaken.
For the first time in two years, I think I love this time of year.