Page 184 of Snap Shot

Gym Guy:Your feet are always cold.

Gym Guy:It's adorable.

Gym Guy:They’re for when I'm not around to keep them warm.

Any doubts I have about how well he really knows me vanish with his texts. My eyes water for a few seconds and I suck in a sniffle before pulling on the gifted socks.

Me:I'm wearing them already.

Gym Guy:Perfect.

Gym Guy:Anything else on your wish list for Santa?

Me:An orgasm would be nice.

Gym Guy:Same. Wanna trade?

Gym Guy:I'm not beneath begging.

Me:Goodnight, Landon.

Gym Guy:Night, baby.

Gym Guy:If you need me, I'll be in bed stroking my cock to death.

I toss my head back and cackle, kicking my feet at our immaturity.

Me:You're ridiculous.

Gym Guy:You love it.

I love him.

Me:I said good night!

An hour or so later, I replay the green flags of the day in my mind. They warm me better than the cloud-like down comforter I'm tucked under. Bragging about me to his family. Telling me I belong with him. Saying my name. Stopping me from hitting my head. The socks. It all cements the truest thing I know in my life so far: I've fallen so hard for Landon Radek, and I don't want to get up.

“Tomorrow,” I say to myself, readying to doze off. “Tomorrow, I'll tell him.”

—————

Putting on my hockey skates is way harder than I thought. Bea drags me and Gabe down to Rideau Canal at least once every winter, but those are always rentals. The pair in hand areminefrom fifteen years ago, dug out from basement storage at my childhood home. The hand-me-downs weren't going to last much longer, and Dad bought these brand-new, in a size up, with the expectation I'd continue playing. Instead, we moved, I quit and didn't get to wear them except for the two summers spent working at the Mississauga rink.

I dawdle on the cabin stairs, blankly staring at the entrance to the skating ribbon. Airy voices carry across the distance of the quiet farm, which means some of the Radek's are already on the lake. My breath clouds as I sigh.

“Merry Christmas, Indi.” Landon saunters over in classic hockey boy strides, skates tied together over the shoulder of an all-black, limited edition Regents jersey. “Forgot how to lace up?”

“Merry Christmas. Andno.” Pride takes hold and I quickly switch out my utilitarian winter boots for the skates, but they don't feel right.

“Can I help?” He drops his pair to one side and kneels on the step below me.

“I do like it when you're on your knees.”

His dimple-topped smirk matches mine. “Don't I know it.” Strong fingers slip under the unfinished lacing. “Your laces are good and flat. Let's see if I can remember how you like them.”

My head tilts, curious and unsure.

“Kick your heel back.”

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