Crossing the Ice

by Jennifer Comeaux

  His voice was so soft and quiet I could barely hear him. But what he meant was obvious.

  My heart dropped into my stomach. He didn’t want to kiss me. Whatever the reason he’d been staring at me earlier, it wasn’t because he thought I was pretty or interesting.

  I bent my head so he couldn’t see the redness I felt on my face. “O… okay.”

  The seconds of silence that followed seemed like hours. I could see Josh shuffling his feet as I kept my head down.

  “You skated great today,” he said.

  I looked up. “You watched us?”

  He nodded. “I really liked your program.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled a little.

  Silence set in again, and I wondered how many minutes we had left. I glanced at the mirror so I could look at Josh without him noticing. He seemed nice and not stuck-up like his sister who I’d met in the locker room. I sighed and frowned at my reflection. Maybe if I was wearing make-up he would’ve liked me better. But Mom would only let me wear lip gloss off the ice.

  I tried desperately to think of something to say, but I couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t sound totally lame. So we continued to stand there, not speaking and not making eye contact. My face and neck were so hot, and I feared I’d start visibly sweating. Hadn’t seven minutes passed yet?

  When Sarah knocked on the door and called for us to come out, I practically bulldozed over Josh to leave. Everyone in the room watched us closely, and Sarah waggled her eyebrows at us.

  “Did you guys have fun?” she asked.

  I sat on the bed and nodded with a forced smile while Josh just went back to leaning against the desk. Yeah, that was fun. If by fun you mean the worst seven minutes of my life.

  I turned over on my back and stared up at the slowly-spinning ceiling fan. God, I wouldn’t want to be thirteen again for all the money in the world. At least Josh and I could converse like normal people now. But after all the years I still wondered why he hadn’t kissed me. I mean, I’d been a little awkward, but I’d thought I was reasonably cute. Couldn’t he have just given me a peck? According to Stephanie, he wasn’t gay, one of the possibilities I’d previously entertained. So that wasn’t it.

  Who knew what went through the mind of a fourteen-year-old boy. From my recent dating experience, I obviously had no clue what even twenty-one-year-old boys were thinking.

  Chapter Five

  “You need more tension in your arms, Court,” Em said as she bent my elbow to adjust my hold on Mark’s shoulder. “Remember the videos we watched online?”

  I did indeed remember the countless tango videos we’d watched after we decided to use Tanghetto’s version of “Enjoy the Silence” for our short program. But watching the experts do the dance and actually capturing the flavor of it ourselves were two very different things.

  I tightened the muscles in my arms and gripped Mark’s hand harder. Em left us at the end of the rink to restart the music, and we began our straight-line footwork sequence again, for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour.

  We’d only gone a quarter of the way down the ice when Em stopped the music. Again. Stephanie and Josh glanced our way as they glided past us with Sergei on their heels.

  Em reeled off another long list of corrections to our posture, and I silently cursed myself for finding this music even though I loved it. Em seemed to be forgetting that we were competing for a spot on the Olympic team, not the mirror ball trophy on Dancing with the Stars.

  When the afternoon session mercifully ended, I couldn’t untie my skate laces quickly enough. Being on the ice felt more natural and comfortable to me than anything else in my life, but there were some endless training days when I wanted to take off my skates and never look back.

  I ran up to the lounge to get my cup of yogurt from the fridge and then headed outside for a few minutes of sunshine. Settling on the front steps of the rink, I tilted my head back and soaked in the Vitamin D. The rays kissed my bare shoulders, feeling like a soothing warm bath.

  “Looks like we had the same idea,” a soft voice said behind me.

  I curved my neck and saw Josh tearing open his own yogurt. He sat on the other end of the steps, leaving a clear path between us.

  “Summer days on the Cape are the best,” I said. “But this is what it’s like all the time in L.A., isn’t it?”

  “Mostly. Except for a few cold snaps. You know, like sixty degrees.” He smiled.

  “It sounds amazing, but I think I’d miss having seasons. The leaves changing, the snow melting…”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing the snow,” he said before taking in a spoonful of yogurt.

  “We’ll see how excited you are after shoveling your driveway a few times.”

  He laughed along with me and then turned quiet. With the rink set far back from the highway behind rows of trees, there was no noise except for a few tweeting birds.

  “You guys have been working on your tango a lot this week,” Josh said.

  I swiveled my spoon around in my cup. “The finer details of the program are taking a little longer to come together.”

  “Have you worked with any dancers off the ice?”

  “Sergei mentioned finding someone, but I don’t really have room for it in my budget.”

  He nodded with a sympathetic smile, and we went back to eating our snacks. The silence was broken when Josh cleared his throat and looked up at me.

  “I um… I studied the tango in school, so maybe I could help out. I’m not a pro or anything, but I know the basics pretty well.”

  I paused with my spoon in the air. “You studied it in school?”

  “I minored in dance.”

  “Oh.” I bobbed my head up and down. “That explains a lot about your skating.”

  He wrinkled his forehead, and I rushed to continue, “You’re really in touch with the music when you skate.”

  His eyes brightened before he lowered them to the stairs. “Thanks.”

  “I appreciate your offer, but I know what Mark would say if I suggested it to him. He’d think you have some ulterior motive for helping us.”

  “Like what? Teaching you the wrong way to tango to sabotage you?”

  “As ridiculous as it sounds, his mind would go there. He’s that paranoid sometimes.”

  Josh appeared to fall deep into thought. “I could just show you some things if you want. It might still be helpful.”

  For a moment, Mark’s paranoia seeped into my brain and I wondered why Josh was being so generous to a competitor. His clear blue eyes stared back at me, and the question remained no more. I saw nothing but genuineness.

  “Sure,” I said. “I need all the help I can get.”

  “Do you have time later before you go to work?”

  I hesitated before answering. I didn’t want him showing up at Em and Sergei’s house because then I’d have to explain why Mark wasn’t present, and Em would want him to be involved. And then I’d have to talk to Mark and he would get all suspicious. No, that was more drama than I cared to create.

  “Why don’t you meet me at the restaurant? I usually get there at four to eat before my shift. We can use the back deck. It closes after lunch until dinner so no one will be out there.”

  “Cool. I’ll meet you—”

  “Josh, Dad wants to talk to you.” Stephanie stood in the half-open doorway to the rink, holding up her phone.

  Josh’s face tightened, and he rose from the steps. “See you later.”

  Stephanie glared at me before following Josh inside, and I rolled my eyes. Not more than a minute later, Mark came through the glass doors and stood over me.

  “What were you so chatty with Josh about?”

  What did I say about paranoia? “I didn’t know I had to report all my conversations to you.”

  “I just think it’s best to keep our distance from him and Stephanie.”

  I stood and brushed the seat of my black stretchy pants. “I have no problem keeping my dista
nce from Stephanie. In fact, the distance can’t be great enough. But unlike her, Josh is a decent human being, and there’s no reason to be rude to him.”

  “I didn’t say to be rude, but I’ve seen you guys talking every day and getting too friendly isn’t a good idea. I don’t want you going soft and losing your competitive edge.”

  “I’m not going soft,” I said, raising my voice. “I’m working my butt off every day harder than I ever have, and I can have a conversation with someone without it affecting my competitive edge.”

  I stormed into the rink and spent the next hour releasing my frustration over Mark’s moodiness with an intense workout in the gym. My abdominal muscles burned as I did crunch after crunch to increase my core strength. As a pair girl I had to have wicked strong abs to hold myself up in the overhead lifts, and I could outlast most guys in a sit-up challenge.

  Josh was lifting weights on the opposite side of the long room, so we didn’t talk again before I left the rink. A few hours later he knocked on the locked door of the restaurant, and I put my sandwich down to let him inside. He was wearing a gray T-shirt and black gym shorts, looking like he was ready for another workout.

  “I’m almost finished eating,” I said as I led him over to the bar.

  He left one stool between us and peered at my plate. “What you got there?”

  “It’s a special veggie sandwich Chef makes for me. It’s not on the menu.”

  “Looks good. Not as good as the steak sandwich I had last weekend, though.”

  I speared a cherry tomato from my side salad. “Was the meal worth sitting through our piano guy’s old-school playlist?”

  “Definitely. Like I said, I can tune out bad music.” He rotated his stool to face me. “What was a little disturbing were some of the older ladies hovering around me. I swear one of them tried to hit on me.”

  I laughed. “Oh yeah, you have to watch out for the divorcées and the widows on the prowl. They have no shame and will pounce on the first hot guy they see.”

  Josh’s lips curled upward, and he looked down at the bar. Heat flamed my face as I realized what I’d said. Real smooth. Why don’t you tell him he has a smokin’ body and get it all out in the open?

  I gulped down some water and coughed into my linen napkin. “Did they um… did they scare you away from coming back this weekend?”

  “Nah, I think I can fend them off.” He picked up the drink specials menu from the bar and kept his focus downward, appearing to read the list. “Are you working Saturday night this week?”

  So he wanted to make sure I was going to be there. Interesting. Or not. Maybe he simply liked seeing a familiar face. It couldn’t be much fun eating alone every night.

  “I’ll be here,” I said.

  “Cool.” He smiled and tapped the menu on the bar.

  I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed rapidly. Now I knew how self-conscious Josh had felt when I’d watched him eat. He turned to look at the TV behind the bar, and I shoveled down more of my dinner. Slow down. You don’t want indigestion interrupting your tango.

  After I finished my last bite, I waved my finger at Josh’s outfit. “Are you going to work out again after this?”

  “Sort of. Steph and I do hot yoga a couple times a week.”

  “Em’s into that, too. Do you go to the same studio?”

  “I’ve never seen her. We go to a place Steph found in Centerville.”

  “Em’s asked me to go with her a few times, but working out in oppressive heat sounds like torture to me.”

  “You should try it. It feels better than you think.”

  “I’ll stick to my air-conditioned exercise routine.” I took my plate and glass behind the bar. “Let me drop this in the kitchen and we can get started.”

  I pushed open the swinging door, and Meredith left her conversation with Ronnie, the restaurant owner, to meet me at the counter.

  “Is your dance teacher here yet?” She shimmied her hips.

  “Yes, he is. And you will not spy on us and make fun of us.”

  She put on an exaggerated insulted face. “I wouldn’t make fun of you. Okay, maybe a little. There are just too many Dirty Dancing jokes waiting to be told.”

  “No spying.” I pointed a finger at her.

  “Yes, Baby.” She smiled. “Have the time of your life.”

  “Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious.”

  I turned and went out to the bar, pushing aside thoughts of bodies pressed together, gyrating to the beat. No such dancing would be happening here. This was going to be a simple lesson on technique… during which Josh would be touching me and standing very close to me.

  The suddenly quick pitter-patter of my heart stopped me in my tracks, and Josh looked at me curiously as I did a one-eighty and hurried back into the kitchen. I aimed straight for my purse and gazed into my compact mirror. No spinach in my teeth. No breadcrumbs on my chin. I stashed the compact and popped a mint into my mouth. I couldn’t have sandwich breath while sharing dance space with Josh.

  I smoothed my tie and my ponytail and returned to the bar with a smile. “Sorry, I had to check on something.”

  Josh followed me through the wood-paneled dining room to the French doors leading outside. The marsh grass surrounding the deck swished in the breeze, and the late afternoon sun reflected off Nantucket Sound. It would’ve been beautifully serene if not for the ridiculous anxiety that had begun to churn in my stomach.

  “So… the tango,” Josh said. “It’s a bit different from the usual ballroom hold. Have you done any ballroom dancing?”

  I shook my head. Slow dancing at my prom was the extent of my partner dancing, and that had been more swaying while standing still than anything.

  “Good. Then you won’t know the difference.” He smiled. “If you’ve watched videos, you’ve seen the tango has a close hold.”

  He took a tentative step toward me but kept his arms at his sides. “But I’m not sure how close Emily and Sergei want you and Mark to be.”

  I got a stronger whiff of his cologne, which smelled expensive. And sweet. Like him. Oh, dear God.

  “Um… we need to be pretty close in some parts of the program,” I said.

  He shifted nearer, sliding his hand around to my lower back, and the heat from his touch radiated through my cotton shirt, my skin, and into the deepest cells of my body. I didn’t dare look up because there would be only a narrow space between our faces. Between our mouths…

  Tango! Focus on the tango.

  Thinking I should demonstrate what I did know about the dance, I clutched Josh’s right shoulder and extended my other arm out to the side like I’d seen the pros do.

  “Let’s move this a little lower,” he said.

  He gently pried my hand from his shoulder and placed it around the top of his bicep. The muscle was solid under my fingers, and I resisted the strong urge to squeeze it.

  “How tight should I hold onto you?” I asked.

  He took a noticeable swallow and glanced at my grip. “That’s… that’s good.”

  “Em was telling me to have more tension in my arms, so I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to hold on tighter or just hold my arms straighter or…” Nice rambling.

  “You’ll want to keep your right arm tense because it helps you follow your partner’s lead.” He grasped my right hand, pressing our palms together, and my pulse sped even faster. “I know you’re not actually doing the full dance on the ice, but I’ll show you how it would look and feel.”

  It feels terrifying yet totally amazing.

  He was a head taller than me, so I was still staring at his shoulder, and I remembered seeing some of the women in the videos tilting their heads toward their partners. “Should I look straight ahead or…”

  “You can turn your head slightly to the right. Just make sure your posture stays straight.”

  I looked inward at his chest, not moving anything anywhere else. I had no problem keeping the required tension in my body. I was one humungous ball of tens
ion.

  Josh pulled me a little closer to him, and his chest expanded and contracted at a swifter pace. Was he feeling nervous, too? I wished I could put my hand against his heart to see if it was beating as fast as mine.

  “The first step I’ll go forward with my left foot and you’ll go back with your right,” he said. “Then I’ll go forward with my right and you back with your left.”

  His hand lightly squeezed mine as he led me through the steps and showed me the next ones, counting out, “Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.” I followed his lead, keeping my posture mega stiff, but every slight movement of his hand on my back, even just the faintest brush of his fingertips, made me tingle. It threatened to turn my stiffness into total mush.

  We completed a full circle and repeated the pattern, moving faster with each repetition. Josh was a commanding lead, but there was also a softness to the way he pressed my hand and glided me around the deck. His little bits of instruction as we danced were also delivered softly and patiently.

  I got lost in the flow of the steps and felt more at ease until Josh stopped and we were just standing there, holding onto each other. Then the rush of nervousness returned. Josh inched nearer, and his fingertips grazed my spine, sending a thrilling wave of heat through me. Too thrilling.

  “Was that okay?” I asked as I let go of him.

  “Yeah, you did… you did great.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Did you get a good feel for it?”

  I nodded. “I think I was definitely too rigid before. I mean, there has to be some rigidness, but I was like a robot. It helped to do the dance with someone who’s comfortable with it.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” He smiled. “I love teaching this kind of stuff.”

  “Maybe you can moonlight as a dance teacher when you’re in law school.”

  His smile faded into a thin line. “Or maybe I could just ditch law school,” he muttered.

  I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his sudden mood change and the revealing comment he’d made, but I wanted to know more.

  “Is working with your dad not something you want to do?”