Cinderella in Skates

by Carly Syms

  "Don't blow this. But no pressure or anything."

  I look down at the snowball. "Green," I say again.

  "The last one was green," he says. "Interesting strategy."

  I shrug. "Call it a gut feeling."

  "Let's see it."

  I throw the snowball and when it explodes in a mess of ice and water and green paint, I smile and turn to face Shane, who's grinning back at me.

  "Not bad, lady," he says. "Not bad at all. Come on, there's one more thing I want to do before we get dessert and you're too stuffed for it."

  I wrinkle my forehead but follow him as he walks toward a giant hill at the edge of the fairgrounds.

  "What's this?"

  "You'll see. Come on, I'm excited." He reaches back and grabs my hand without much fanfare and I almost freeze in my spot I'm so stunned, but that'd be awkward considering he's holding onto me now.

  I jog three steps to catch up to him and match his pace. I want to drop his hand and figure out what the heck is going on but he makes no move to let go of me and, well, I can't pretend I don't like the feel of his rough, calloused hockey hands on mine.

  "Have you ever been sledding?" he asks me.

  I only have to think about it for maybe half a second. "Nope."

  "This is just a night full of firsts for you, isn't it?"

  I smile and want to talk about how it's the first night I'm holding hands with a guy who makes me as fidgety and smiley and heart-racey (is that even a thing?) as Shane does, but I get a hold of myself before I start rambling on some embarrassing tangent.

  That's also a first for me.

  "Sorry that your intro to sledding is going to be so intense," Shane's saying. "But I can't come to the winter festival and not do the race."

  I blink and look up at him. "The what?"

  He grins. "You'll see."

  "Next pair!" The attendant stares over at Shane and me. He lets go of my hand as we walk to a blue sled that barely looks big enough for one person, let alone two.

  "You get in first," Shane says to me.

  "First? You mean we're both supposed to get in that thing?"

  "Yep. Might get a little cozy."

  I step in and almost fall as my foot slips on the wet plastic.

  "Do you have a paper towel or something?" I ask the attendant. "My pants are going to get soaked."

  He just shoots Shane an 'Is this girl serious?' look and doesn't answer me.

  "It's Wisconsin, Nat," Shane says gently. "Getting your pants wet in the snow isn't a big deal out here."

  I sigh and sit down, scooting as close to the front of the sled as I can.

  Shane steps in and suddenly his legs are hanging outside the sled around me and I feel his chest pressed up against my back. I wait, not even realizing at first that I'm holding my breath, to feel his strong muscly arms encircle me, but it never comes.

  Instead, he drapes them along the side of the sled.

  "Okay, Captain," he says quietly, his lips dangerously close to my left ear. "You're our pilot and I don't want to go down with this ship."

  "I'm the what?"

  He chuckles softly. "Man, you really weren't kidding about Arizona. You're in front, so you're steering the sled with that rope there."

  "Uh, do you really think that's a good idea?"

  "Definitely better than me in front."

  "So what exactly are we trying to do?"

  "It's a race," he says, a hint of amusement sprinkled into his voice. "We want to be the first ones to the bottom of the hill."

  "And how do we do that?"

  "We sled."

  I turn back to look at him and he's smiling.

  The attendant helps the last of what looks like five teams into their sleds then picks up a megaphone.

  "First team to cross the green line at the bottom of the hill wins," he says. "On your mark, get set, GO!"

  I haven't even thought about how we're going to gain enough momentum to move the sled when suddenly we're flying down the hill and we're veering left and I have no idea what's happening.

  "The rope! Pull the rope, Nat!" Shane yells into my ear.

  I grab the rope pooled in my lap and give it a firm yank to hopefully straighten out the sled. That green ribbon is approaching quickly and we're wobbling from side to side and out of nowhere Shane starts laughing behind me.

  "Hold on! We're gonna hit!" he calls out.

  I try to turn around and look at him but the next thing I know, my face is full of snow and the front of my jeans are soaked.

  I roll over onto my back and stare up at the darkened night sky. Shane coughs beside me.

  "Ow," he mutters.

  "What happened?"

  He grins and points a few feet up the hill. "You hit that rock."

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you, Madam Pilot."

  "I didn't see it!"

  Shane just smiles and rolls over through the snow until he's right next to me.

  "I think we lost."

  "Sorry. I didn't know they planted booby traps on the hill!"

  He shakes his head. "We're really going to have to work at bringing out the Wisconsin in you, aren't we?"

  I start to sit up when Shane reaches out and touches my cheek with his left hand.

  "You've got snow all over your face," he says, but his voice has lost its teasing glimmer. He's quiet -- serious -- now. I'm watching him as he gently brushes the cold, melting snow off my skin. There's a funny expression on his face, one that I can't read, and then he moves in closer to me. And just like that -- almost as suddenly as he had after we read Coach Dobrov's list together -- he's kissing me and my head's falling back down toward the snow and my legs, my back, my arms -- all freezing just a second ago -- are warm from Shane's touch.

  He breaks away from me and my eyelids flutter open and he's smiling at me when he leans back in and lightly brushes his lips against mine before he pushes back and sits on his knees.

  "Soaked yet?" he asks.

  I blink a few times, still not processing everything that just happened from the moment the sledding attendant told us to go.

  It feels like we took the attendant's instructions to a new level. Shane and I are definitely going somewhere. I just don't know where, exactly, we're going to end up.

  "Come on," he says, pushing himself to his feet and holding out a hand to me. "Let's get dessert and warm up."

  I almost tell him I'm still plenty warm from his kiss, but I bite my tongue and reach for his hand in silence. He lets go of me once I'm on my feet and I try to brush the clumps of snow off the back of my jeans but it's useless. Most of it has already seeped into my pants and I'm drenched.

  "Do you like hot chocolate?" he asks as we trudge up the hill we've just sort-of sledded down.

  "I guess."

  He glances over at me. "You guess?"

  "I mean, I've had it but I've never needed it to warm up before."

  "You think it's different?"

  I shrug. "Let's find out."

  He smiles and shakes his head. Once we reach the top of the hill, Shane reaches over and laces his fingers through mine and I feel instant happiness surge through me.

  "Shane! Hey!"

  We both stop and turn at the sound of someone calling his name.

  A couple holding hands walks down one of the many paths at the fairgrounds toward us. She's waving and walking slightly in front of the guy I'm guessing is her boyfriend, a big smile painted on her face. My eyes narrow even though that's silly -- she's taken.

  But I still don't love the way she's looking at Shane, and he isn't even mine.

  "Melissa, hey," he says, lifting the hand that isn't holding mine in greeting. I can't help but notice that he doesn't let go of me.

  Apparently, neither can Melissa as her eyes dart to our joined fingers and she lifts an eyebrow.

  "Shane," she says again, but it's decidedly less friendly this time. Her boyfriend brings his lips close to her right ear for a second, whispering something th
e two of us can't hear.

  "What's up, man," the guy says to Shane a second later.

  "Just enjoying a night out," Shane replies, his voice cool and careful. He gestures to me. "This is Natalie."

  Natalie.

  Not a friend, but also not a girlfriend.

  Just...Natalie.

  Hmm.

  "And, Nat, this is Joe, he's from the team, and Mel is his girlfriend."

  I smile at both of them. "Nice to meet you guys."

  "Is this your girlfriend, Shane?" Melissa asks, not even shooting so much as a glance my way but it doesn't bother me. I'm kind of secretly glad she's asked the question so at least I'll get to hear how he answers it. But Shane noticeably flinches beside me, and I wrinkle my forehead.

  "Uh," he says. "No, we haven't really talked about any of that."

  And now it's my turn to try not to visibly react but suddenly I don't like the feeling of my hand in his quite as much as I had just five minutes ago even though nothing he said was wrong.

  "Oh," Melissa says, furrowing her brow. I'm surprised by the apparent confusion on her face. "Well, okay."

  "Have a good night, you guys," Joe says after the pause stretches into awkward territory. "Nice meeting you, Natalie."

  He turns and pulls Melissa away with him, leaving me and Shane standing there.

  "So," he says. "Hot chocolate?"

  I want to talk about what the heck just happened -- even though I wouldn't even know what to say -- but I just nod instead.

  We walk in the direction we'd been heading before his friends interrupted. We don't say anything and all I can think about is how I'm upset about something but don't even know what it is.

  Well, okay, I know what it is -- I'm pretty sure there's no use pretending I don't want to be Shane's girlfriend at this point -- but it's silly. We've only been out twice. It might even be weird at this point if he asked me to be exclusive, but it's still what I want. It just feels different with him. Easy.

  Shane stops in front of a stand and lets go of my hand to dig the wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans.

  "Two hot chocolates please," he says to the older woman behind the counter.

  She smiles warmly at him and pushes two styrofoam cups toward us. "You two are lovely together," she says, and my cheeks immediately flush and Shane drops the five-dollar bill in his hands.

  While he bends down to pick it up, I'm left staring at the hot chocolate lady who is clearly waiting for me to tell her how in love Shane and I are.

  "Um," I say. "Thanks."

  She gives me a funny look before moving over to the register to make change for Shane.

  I wrap my hands around the hot chocolate to warm me up, the chill of the wet clothes finally sinking into my skin.

  "Take a sip," Shane says as we start to walk again.

  "I've had hot chocolate before, you know."

  He shrugs. "You look cold."

  I bring the cup to my lips and can feel the hot steam seeping through the lid, but I know he's watching me so I carefully slurp some of the hot chocolate and feel its warmth filter through me.

  "It's good," I say, and he takes a drink.

  We walk along and I feel more settled, more at ease with each step we take. The Christmas lights everywhere, the happy holiday buzz in the air -- it's easy to get lost in the atmosphere.

  And the company isn't so bad, either.

  "What do you say?" Shane asks after a minute. "Ready to head home?"

  I nod.

  I'm not, really, but it isn't like I'm going to tell him I want to say when he wants to go.

  He takes my empty styrofoam cup and tosses them both in the trash as we head for the exit.

  "I have a blanket in my trunk you can use for the ride home."

  "A blanket?"

  He glances over at me. "Aren't you cold in those wet clothes?"

  "I guess I am."

  Truthfully, I haven't been thinking about my clothes at all. My mind's been all ShaneShaneShane. But now that he mentions it, I realize my teeth are chattering and I shiver in the chilly night.

  "Do you want it?" he asks again.

  I nod. "Sure. Thanks."

  He unlocks the car and opens the passenger side door for me before he walks around to his trunk. He's back a few seconds later, handing me a plaid fleece blanket.

  "Sorry, it might stink a little," he says, a sheepish half-smile on his face. "But it's the best I've got."

  I take it from him and wrap it around my shoulders. "That's okay. It'll still help."

  We drive home, talking about what's playing on the radio and the sights we pass in Madison, but nothing more. It's easy, definitely, and I'm happy, of course, but I can't get the conversation with Melissa out of my head.

  I want a better answer to the question she asked. This guy sitting next to me, his right arm draped loosely over the steering wheel, his blonde wavy hair bouncing slightly in time to the song, his kisses perfect and tingly, his touch that makes me bite my lip, the hard muscles under his shirt -- I want to call him mine.

  He pulls the car into my driveway, and the night is over way too fast for me. I start to fold the blanket but he pulls it out of my hands and tosses it into the backseat.

  "Don't worry about that."

  "Okay. Good night, then," I say before unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping out of the car, my mind spinning with the idea that he hasn't tried to kiss me since the sledding hill.

  I hear a second door slam as I'm walking up the path to our front door.

  "Natalie."

  I stop and turn around, and with three long strides, Shane's beside me.

  "You got out so fast," he says softly as he brushes back my hair and tucks it behind my ear as a light snow flurry falls and lands around us.

  I stare up at him, not saying a word.

  "I still have to say good night," he continues, and he lowers his head and our lips touch, soft and sweet at first, but growing hungrier and hungrier.

  His fingers tangle in my hair as he presses the back of my head against his hand, his lips greedily seeking out mine. It's a different kind of kiss than the others we've shared as my heart thumps against my rib cage, my whole body pushed up against his lean hockey muscle.

  "Natalie," he murmurs into my hair once he breaks the kiss. He takes a step back and smiles. "You know how to say good night."

  I grin, a blush spreading across my cheeks that I hope he can't see.

  "Good night," I say and turn and walk up the front steps before I make a fool of myself.

  "Hey," he calls out as my key turns the lock. I turn and face him. "This doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you in practice or anything. I'll see you at the rink tomorrow."

  I let myself into the house and lock the door behind me. I stand there for a second before the smile breaks out across my face.

  Shane, I'm pretty sure, is almost definitely, wonderfully mine.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Shane and I hit the ice the next afternoon right after the final bell rings but this time we kick off practice by doing something a little different: we start with a kiss.

  "New goal, new practice routines," Shane says with a wink after our lips break apart.

  I'm surprised I don't wobble -- not even a little -- as we stand there together on the ice. Skating's starting to get easier for me every time, which is probably a good thing considering I'm on a team now and might actually have to play.

  Hockey practices with my actual team don't start for three days and even then, they don't happen every afternoon so Shane thinks it's important we stick as much to our old schedule as possible. I agree, even if it's only because I want to keep seeing him whenever I can.

  I skate over to the bench and get suited up in my goalie pads while Shane takes a few lazy laps around the rink. It takes me longer than usual to get ready -- my eyes keep floating over to him.

  There's something about the way he moves when he's on the ice that's so distracting to me. I don't know what it is,
really, but it's hard for me to look away. He's so fluid and graceful, his movements working in complete juxtaposition to his big, bulky lumberjack-like frame.

  He snaps his head up and catches me staring. Dammit.

  "Hey! Quit stalling," he calls out to me. "We've got a lot of work to do today if we're going to whip you into starting shape."

  "Watch how you talk about my shape, mister," I call back, and he grins.

  I put on the last of my pads and clomp clumsily onto the ice.

  "We're just going to do general shooting drills first," Shane says, and I groan. He knows how much I hate them. "Stop complaining. You're going to have to do them if you want this."

  "I know, I know," I grumble, gliding over to take my position in the net. "Let's get it over with."

  "What kind of attitude is that?" he asks, dragging a bucket of pucks over to the face-off circle on my right.

  "The kind you get when your coach is a pain in the butt."

  Shane just shakes his head and laughs. "Hey, that coach helped you get a spot on the team, didn't he? Maybe you should listen to him. He might know what he's talking about."

  "True," I say with a nod. "Without you, I wouldn't be heading back to Arizona in just a couple of months. I'd have to wait forever."

  Shane's face turns cloudy for a second. "Okay. Let's get started."

  I frown, surprised at the abrupt change in his demeanor. "Oh. Okay."

  He scatters a couple of pucks on the ice in front of him. As I check to make sure my gloves are secure, the door to the rink opens and my new coach walks in.

  "Sorry!" she calls out. "Didn't meant to interrupt."

  "That's okay," Shane says. "Hey, would you mind helping out with something? I want to work on slide control drills with Natalie but it's hard with just one person."

  Coach Dobrov hesitates for a second before nodding. "Sure, Shane, that'll be fine. I have a few minutes."

  It startles me to hear Coach Dobrov call Shane by his first name but then I realize that's dumb of me. He was a player here just a few years ago -- of course one of the hockey coaches would know who he is.

  She grabs a stick and trots out onto the ice in her sneakers.

  "Okay," Shane says to me, his tone all business. "Here's what we're going to do." He proceeds to launch into a long, unnecessary description of the drill he wants me to do that involves him and Coach Dobrov taking turns shooting pucks at different sides of me so I can learn how to slide to stop any rebounds I might give up.