Page 146 of Between the Blue
Ben flicks his head back.
“You want me to come out on the ice?” I question him.
“Just for a minute.”
“I…”
“C’mon, Cherry.”
I open my mouth to question him further, but then close it. I look down at my white tennis shoes. They aren’t skates, but I see camera men filming and fans participating in activities stepping on the ice in street shoes all the time. I shut my laptop slowly, shift it onto the bench next to me, and rise to my feet.
I move towards the latched door to get on the ice, but Ben holds his arm out, stopping me. I turn my head to look at him, and he pats the top of the wall, nodding towards it. Somehow, I glean that he wants me to sit on it, and, for whatever reason, I listen to him.
I just barely push up so that my bottom is resting on top of the bench wall before one of Ben’s arms is behind my back and the other is slipping under my knees. I don’t even have a moment to process what’s happening before he scoops me up and takes off towards the middle of the rink.
I let out a little yelp, my arms circling his neck as the cold air blows through my hair.
“Please don’t drop me,” I beg, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck.
“This is more natural than walking for me, Cherry. Not gonna happen.”
When we make it to the circle at the center of the ice, Ben skids to a stop. He gently sets me down on my feet, and eventhough I’m in solid shoes rather than balancing on two blades like him, my legs manage to wobble, and I nearly slip.
I reach out and Ben immediately steadies me, standing firm as stone in place.
“You’re good,” he says.
And, for whatever reason, I do suddenly feel secure.
“Okay,” I say, smoothing out my blazer. “You got me out here. Now what?”
Ben shifts on his skates, running a hand through his hair. “Look,” he exhales, “I’m not great with words.”
“You don’t say?”
He gives me a look, and I hold my hands up.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “Go ahead.”
“I’m not great with words,” he repeats, “so let me try this the best way I can.”
I can see in Ben’s eyes that he’s serious and decide I’ll try my best to hear him out. “Okay,” I nod.
He motions with his hand around us. “Do you know where we are right now?”
“Um…the practice rink?”
“No,” he shakes his head, pointing downwards. “Where, specifically, in the rink?”
My eyes trail down to our feet, where we stand in the middle of the painted circle on the center of the ice.
“C’mon,” Ben says. “I know you’re a quick learner. You’ve picked things up.”
I lift my head, meeting his gaze once more. “Okay,” I say. “This is a face-off circle, right?”
“It is, yeah,” he nods. “Tell me more about it.”
“Did you just bring me out here to quiz me?” I question him. “Did I post something inaccurate on social media or something?”
