Page 16

alex

“You ready to get out here, Sokolov?” I hollered to the girl currently sitting behind the glass in the front row as she scarfed down on an entire bucket of popcorn.

I had no idea how long she’d been here, but she’d nearly finished a whole bucket of popcorn.

The arena was closed for our bye week, and staff used this time to clean, so I had no clue where she even found it.

She sat with her feet propped up on the glass as I skated around the rink.

I’d come earlier to blow off steam, but I’d been counting down the minutes until she’d show up.

“I was craving popcorn.” She sat up straighter and put her feet down. “Plus it’s pretty cool watching you skate.”

“Where did you get that?” I pointed to the popcorn.

“The lady cleaning the concession stand offered me some, and when she did, it sounded good, so I grabbed some before coming down to the ice.” She held the bucket up. “Want some?”

I shook my head and huffed out a laugh.

“Wanna come down to the ice before they have to Zamboni?” I suggested.

“Yeah, my skates are in the bag,” she murmured, gazing longingly through the glass.

“Come on.” I waved my hand, beckoning her. “Show me what kind of skater you really are.” I winked.

I was glad that after our dinner last night, she seemed better and things went back to normal.

She bounced around the seats and jumped right into the benches. After sitting down and placing the popcorn next to her, she laced up her skates.

“I’m not racing you,” she shouted as I skated back to the boards where she was sitting and leaned over the railing.

“Oh really?” I teased.

“Alex, I literally cannot fall,” she said as she got onto the ice and held onto the edges of the rink.

She was wearing black leggings today and an oversized sweatshirt with what I presumed was her skating coach’s company on it, and her hair was styled in her typical sleek ponytail.

“I’ve got you, Anastasia.” The words came out raspier than I’d intended.

Lately, it had become more of a struggle to remind myself that Anastasia was my teammate’s wife, especially after last night.

“Don’t you have other friends you could’ve invited?” she asked, holding onto the boards.

“Nah. I told you. I’ve never really had a friend until you.” I gestured out to the ice. “Plus, I wanna see the illustrious Anastasia Sokolov before her competition.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Yeah.”

This was the best friendship. There was such comfort in feeling like a piece of home lived a few floors away from me.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you to stop calling me by my full name,” she huffed as she stepped onto the ice.

“Okay . . . Anastasia .”

I was never going to call her by her nickname because he did.

She nodded and then grabbed onto my forearms as she eased her skates over the ice. “Ugh, you’ll never learn.”

“Come on,” I whispered.

For the last six months, I viewed the woman in front of me as a friend, but every primal instinct I had was suddenly taking over. Watching her fingers wrap around mine was something new, and every fiber in my body was on fire.

I shook my head, chalking it up to the fact that I was touch deprived. The entire season left me exhausted, and admittedly, I hadn’t hooked up with anyone since... well, since those dinners at the start of the season with Anastasia.

It wasn’t that I didn’t get invited out, but a part of me was always waiting to see what she was going to do. I’d say she came to my apartment five nights of the week when we were home, and over the past few months, I much preferred her company over some chick I was going to fuck for the night.

“Why am I guiding you?” I asked as she wrapped her fingers around my forearms.

“I want to see how a big hockey player skates,” she murmured.

“Because it’s so much different from you?”

She didn’t let go of my hands as I skated backward with her. “So much different,” she said, but still didn’t let go.

Her grip was firm, her touch sending a reassuring warmth through me, grounding me in the moment.

Her steps synchronized effortlessly with mine as we traced the perimeter of the rink together. She held onto my arms, both of us skating backward, and I realized halfway through our second lap that she was guiding me more than I realized.

“Is this what it’s like to skate with a partner?” She moved me gently around the rink, my feet naturally falling in the same movement as hers.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly.

We skated together a few more feet before she stopped us. “Tell me about your partner in Russia?” I asked since we very rarely spoke about him.

“Ivan?”

I nodded.

Her lips curled into a smile. “He was wonderful. The perfect dancer and the way our bodies connected on the ice...” She spun away from me before circling back. “It was as if we could speak to each other without exchanging words.”

“Did you guys ever date?” I asked, curious after all the rumors I’d read about them online.

She blushed, and then she held out her hands, gesturing for me to skate closer, so I did. “No.” Her lashes fluttered as a small gust of cool air blew from the vents above us. “I know the rumors, but Ivan had a different preference.”

I cocked my head to the side, unsure of what she meant. The corner of her lips twisted into a smirk as it dawned on me.

“Ooooh,” I finally said. “Oooooh,” I repeated.

“Remember, back home, it isn’t as progressive as we are here today, so he never came out. I didn’t want to ever get him in trouble, so I didn’t deny the rumors. He’s really a good guy though. Want me to show you one of our routines?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay, let me lead... if you can keep up.”

She moved closer to me and her chest pressed against mine, her body yielding with a sense of surrender.

With her head nestled against me and in the hush of the rink, our movements spoke volumes.

Amid the faint hum of vacuums from the cleaning crew in the stands, we shared a moment of serene intimacy, gliding in perfect harmony as she guided me around the rink at a languid pace, savoring every moment together.

I almost didn’t want it to end. I’d have stayed here forever, and I realized that if this was what friendship was supposed to be like, I’d been missing out all these years. A silent regret echoed inside me for treating women like they could only cater to my very carnal needs.

When we got back to the benches, she pulled away from me and started to glide around the rink alone. I leaned back against the boards, watching her move effortlessly. She skated with such grace that I barely kept up with her rapid spins and fluid movements.

She twirled and spun, her body moving with a mesmerizing elegance. It was so different from the structured, intense skating I was used to on the ice. Her movements were free, expressive, and full of joy. Each turn and leap seemed to defy gravity, as if she was dancing on air.

I watched in admiration, captivated by her skill and the sheer beauty of her performance. She was lost in her own world, a world where everything else faded away, leaving the pure, unbridled joy of skating. I realized how deeply I cared for her, how much she had come to mean to me.

As she finished her routine with a final, graceful spin, she looked over at me, her face flushed and glowing with happiness.

Our eyes met, and in that silent exchange, I sensed sadness.

She skated over to me, and as she took my hand, I felt that same sense of warmth and connection, stronger than ever before.

We were crossing a boundary today, our hands exploring each other with an urgency that suggested we couldn’t be apart.

I needed her, and the intensity of my feelings terrified me.

It scared me because I was starting to become the man my father was.

I had spent my entire life trying to avoid being like him, and now I was going behind her husband’s back.

Despite what a piece of shit he was and how much I desperately wanted her to leave him, she was still his. She had chosen him.

She looked down, but our hands were still touching. She sighed softly.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” I fired out questions, not giving her a chance to answer.

She wasn’t the same person who had skated with me on the rink moments earlier. The joy had just vanished.

“I-I can’t,” she whispered, then pushed past me, running off the benches and down the rubber mats toward the locker room.

Sensing she needed some space but also worried she might be sick again, I followed her to the locker rooms, my concern growing with each step.

“Anastasia?” I asked into the quiet locker room, hoping she’d have gone to the more familiar home team one.

As I entered, the scent of sweat and the faint remnants of sports tape filled the air. The dim lighting cast shadows on the dark wood, creating a somber atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the bright, open rink outside.

“I’m sorry,” a voice cried from the end of the locker cabinets.

It was her, huddled at the far end, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

I walked, rather hobbled, on my skates down the rubber toward the last set of lockers tucked away in the corner. Before I even turned the corner, I could hear her sobs echoing in the room, almost amplifying the melancholia of the dark locker room.

I raced over to where she was unlacing her skates and dropped to my knees, hoping I didn’t nick my knee from falling so fast.

“Tell me, Anastasia . . .”

She rubbed her eyes and looked up at me with such profound sadness in her features it was hard to miss. It was the same look my mom had when I’d ask her where my father was after he’d been gone for days.

“I-I’m pregnant.”

The entire world cleaved open. I heard nothing except a single ringing sound inside my ears. I stared at her, my heart sinking. This was the next step. I knew they were having sex. I knew it, yet I didn’t want to know anything at all.