Page 22 of Let It Be Me
“I guessed on your shoe size.” He tells me as he holds up a worn, rental pair of skates.
I look at the size and hum my approval.
“I know. No need to praise me for my correct guessing.”
“God, you’re full of yourself.” I say as I drop down on the bench.
“And you’re stalling. Nikes off. Skates on.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but do what he tells me. When I’ve tied the last string, Riley stands up and walks to the opening to the ice. He holds his hand out to me and, wobbling over to him, I tentatively take it. He steps out onto the ice, but I freeze like Bambi as if my wobbly steps don’t already represent the tiny deer when he first steps on the ice. I’m not afraid of anything, really. But falling on my ass in front of a professional hockey player would take embarrassment to new levels.
My grip on his hand tightens when I place a foot on the ice.
“Now the other one.” Riley instructs and holds his other hand out to me, wiggling his fingers. I place my freehand in his and wait. “Now I want you to bring the other foot out, but have it land sideways with your toes pointing out.”
I do as he says and my grip on his hands tighten when I’m on the ice with both feet.
“Good girl. Now straighten your foot up.”
My body warms from his praise and slowly, I straighten my foot up and stand up straight. My grip on his hands is still deathly strong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I keep my eyes on my feet because I’d rather them stay under me than above me.
“Before we move, I’m gonna need you to bend your knees a little. It’ll help you stay balanced.” I bend my knees a smidge and feel my body get less tense. “Just like that, Sarah. Okay, I’m going to move and pull you with me. Okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” I respond as I watch Riley’s feet while the cold air whips through my hair.
“Weave your feet in and out, like me.” He demonstrates.
I try to do what he does but my legs won’t cooperate. “Nope! Can I just stay like this?”
I expect him to scold me and bark an order at me to move my feet like him. But, he doesn’t.
“Yeah, Blue. You can stay like that,” Riley responds with a lightness in his voice.
We continue going around the rink. I let Riley lead me through circles around the rink and I almost slipped a couple times, which almost cut off the circulation in his hands. Yet, he still didn’t seem to mind.
“Okay, I think I’m done for the day,” I tell Riley after about thirty minutes. My grip on his hands is still firm. And the little voice in the back of my head is still worried that I cut off the circulation in his fingers. But still he never complained.
“Are you sure?” He asks as if I need a minute to think about getting off these death traps he calls skates.
“Positive.”
He leads me over to the bench and shows me how to get off the ice. I unlace my skates and groan in relief as one skate comes off and I start wiggling my toes.
“You stomp around in three-inch heels and skates are what gets you?” He questions while resting his elbows on his knees.
“Hey, now,” I start and take off the other skate, repeating the motion of wiggling my toes. “I could walk circles around you in heels. I could walk backwards in heels. But trust me that both are medieval torture devices.”
Riley snorts and I look over to see him looking at me and shaking his head. I raise my eyebrow waiting for him to say something.
“I’m gonna go get changed and then we can go throughbrands.” He stands up and holds his hands out for my skates.
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
I watch Riley round the bench with my skates in his hands and head into the tunnel. I finish tying up my shoes and grab my bag, before heading out to the lobby.
My phone buzzes right as I reach the front.
Emmy-Lou: Dinner tonight?
