Page 10 of Head Over Skates

I follow along as the rest of the team heads back to the locker room, but keep to the back so I can take a turn towards theZamboni gate. I don’t exactly know what my plan is here, but I have to take a chance Emily might not be back here right now.

Making my way around the building, I take the final turn into the area where Joe has his office. To my extreme disappointment, Emily is there, sitting with her back to me on a swivel chair, her ankles crossed on top of Joe’s desk. On her lap is a notebook, and she’s furiously writing something in it with a pen that looks like it got stuck in a fur ball. On the desk, her camera sits next to a pile of papers and a big Thermos. If I could get her to leave the office…

I take another step and she stops writing. Does she know I’m here?

“Well, well, well,” I say, deciding to lean into the advantage of surprise. She stiffens and snaps the notebook shut. “What are you doing, little cat?”

Her head spins around and she levels me with a hard stare. “I beg your pardon?”

I raise my arms to take hold of the wood frame above me, my body taking up the entire doorway. Her lips part ever so slightly.

“I asked what you’re doing,” I say, super casually.

“No. Did you just call me… a cat?”

I shrug. “You remind me of a little stray cat… on top of that big machine you drive.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “What are you doing here?”

I glance down at the camera. “I saw you taking pictures.”

A long pause while she thinks of a paltry excuse. Then she uncrosses her ankles, spins to face me, and stands up. Taking a few steps toward me, she crosses her arms, and my palms start to sweat at the notion she might invade my personal space. After that night I confronted her with her beanie, I need to remind myself to keep my distance.

“Why are you suddenly taking an interest in things I do?”

I scoff. “I’m not.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

My eyes shift to the notebook under her arm, and when she sees me noticing it, she tucks it behind her back.

Curious.

“Do you like to write?” I pry.

“No.”

“Then what’s that for?”

She glowers at me, those lush, thick eyebrows lurching down over her bright hazel eyes. “Maybe I like to make lists.”

“Oh? What kinds of lists?”

“One hundred and one ways to slay my enemies. World domination in ten easy steps. That sort of thing.”

I’m willing to wager that’s not far from the truth.

“And how is that going so far?” I say, venturing into the room against my better judgment.

She lifts her little chin in defiance. “Better than expected.”

She seems quite pleased with herself. This little waif of a woman that smells like watermelon and some other fruity scent I can’t put a finger on. No, no no. I will not be putting my fingers onanything.

And although I’m one hundred percent ready to call her out, something in me pauses. Like I need to make it count. And so I find myself drawing closer to her. Crowding her. Towering over her.

I’d like to think it’s to intimidate, but that would be a lie. She’s my black hole, and my stupid body keeps moving her way. Getting sucked into her orbit.

I tilt my head, my face inches from hers. And the way her breath hitches, and those pretty pink lips part, I almost want to kiss her. Almost. It’s just a chemical reaction.

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