Page 79 of In the Net
The back of my neck heats despite the chill clinging to me. Sebastian called mehis girleven though no one else is around to hear.
And he has favorite traits of mine? What are the other ones?
Luckily, I don’t have time to dwell on those thoughts. He stands in front of me, holding out his arms. “Give me your hands already,” he says, exasperation mixed with his encouragement.
I slide my hands into his. Sparks dance on me as he folds his large palms over them, grabbing hold and urging me away from the barricade and toward the center of the ice.
It’s almost too intense, being face-to-face with him like this. My cheeks burn against the cold sting of the air. He skates backward with perfect poise, pulling me with him, letting me find my legs on the ice.
I lift my eyes from where they’re pointed at my feet, daring to peek at his face. His hair is getting longer. Scruffier. It must have been a while since he’s had it cut. Tangly strands fall over the temples of his glasses. Why is that so hot?
Sebastian looks down at my feet, nodding in approval as he guides me through a couple turns. “You’re doing well.”
Muscles tug between my legs as I imagine him telling me that I’mdoing wellin a very different context.
I felt how big he is, after all. I’d probably need all the encouragement I can get to fit …
I clamp down on that thought.
Eventually, I feel like I’m getting the hang of it. My body is learning how to move on this slippery surface while staying upright.
“Let me try on my own,” I tell Sebastian.
Approval lights up his blue eyes. He nods. “Don’t overdo it,” he warns.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
Sebastian lets go of my hands, and I suddenly feel colder. A sense of loss weighs in my chest as he puts more distance between us so I have room to skate unaided. Talk about pathetic.
I’m doing pretty well skating on my own, but that’s not what’s occupying my mind. Memories of how he held me close in bed this weekend flood back to me.
I’d love to deny it, but I can’t: I want to feel his arms around me again.
The stupidest thought pops up in my head. I’ll pretend to fall, and he’ll rush over and catch me.
My better judgment, not to mention my sense of self-respect, lets me know how bad an idea that is.
But the area of my brain that controls cravings pulses with the desire to feel Sebastian’s strong arms wrapped around me, like they were in his bed just days ago.
I kick my right leg out and whirl my arms dramatically, telegraphing that I’m about to fall. After giving Sebastian plenty of notice that he needs to close the distance between us and grab me, I let my weight drop …
And I hit the ice.
He didn’t even catch me!
“Oh, shit,” I hear Sebastian exclaim, like he was paying attention to something else and only now noticed that I’m sprawled out on the ice.
My flat expression cracks as peals of laughter burst from me. I was so pathetically craving physical touch with a guy I’msupposedto not even like that I pulled some ridiculous damsel-in-distress act, and all I got out of it was a mildly painful fall.
I can’tnotfind it hilarious.
And the fact that I’m not supposed to like Sebastian? Please. Who am I kidding anymore? He’s funny, smart, we have just about everything in common, and it’s blatantly obvious how much he’s grown as a person since freshman year.
I like spending time with him. I like him.
Nowthat’sfunny.
So funny that I can’t stop laughing. I’m cracking up, belly laughing even though the harsh chill of the ice singes me through my clothes.
