Page 5 of Jesse and the Ice Princess
Charlotte sighed and took off. Her life was a series of training sessions, diets, and nights at home in their silent house. She didn't have any siblings, so she received her mother’s undivided attention.
Her mom wanted Charlotte to become a clone of the young Grace Morrison who won two national skating titles and would have gone to the Olympics if not for an injury.
Charlotte was never going to the Olympics, but she traveled around the surrounding states, stealing podiums. She didn't know when it stopped meaning anything to her.
Maybe when she started senior year of high school and realized she barely remembered anything from the previous three years. No dances. No pep rallies. No boyfriends. Few friends.
Only an endless loop on her parents' rink.
She went through the training session like a robot, pulling off every move her mother called for with precision but little heart. It would be enough to medal in the small competitions she entered.
But the reason she'd never go further? The word that held her back from nationals and beyond?
Love.
In a way, she envied the boys on the losing hockey team. Only people who loved their sport could stick out a season like that. She'd been to every one of their games—at her dad’s insistence—and watched them celebrate the few good plays as if they mattered more than the wins.
Maybe they did.
She lifted her eyes to the back wall where a picture of her dad in all his hockey gear hung. He'd spent his entire career chasing the cup and never got the chance to lift it.
Yet, he couldn't stay away from the game. She saw it in the excitement in his eyes whenever he stood behind the bench during a game. Heck, the man had synthetic ice installed in their basement wide enough for a shooting lane with a hockey net at the far end.
Charlotte pulled her sweatshirt off over her head and tossed it onto the bench as she zoomed by. She dipped down low, skimming her fingers along the cold surface, trying to remember why she'd been so enthralled by the sport as a kid. Straightening her knees, she rolled her head to stretch her neck.
She used to watch hours of video showcasing the best figure skaters in the world. But that was then. People grow up. They move on.
Unless they're not allowed to.
She didn't want to think about Jesse Carrigan, but she couldn't help wondering if he knew how lucky he was.
No one expected anything of him except a charming smile. There was no pressure to win—obviously—and no push toward perfection.
"Charlotte," her mom called. "Straighten up. You won't win anything with posture like that."
Charlotte pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin in the way her mom taught her. Her blond braid brushed the back of her neck, and she blew bangs out of her eyes.
Don't slouch.
Always look your best.
Pretend someone is always watching.
Never strive for mediocre.
Words Charlotte had no choice but to live by.
She'd give anything just for one day in someone else's life.
3
Jesse
"I'm telling you, Jess, that girl is cute." Roman shouldered his way into Jesse's house without knocking.
Jesse followed behind him as he lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face. "Knock it off, man. She's Coach's daughter." All he'd heard from Roman since they ran into Charlotte at the rink was how good she looked when she relaxed her appearance. At school, she wore pressed skirts and expensive sweaters. She never had a hair out of place. She was like a china doll, one could admire her beauty, but it wasn't accessible.
Jesse would never use the word "cute" to describe her. Beautiful, yes. But cute held a different meaning, one with some kind of warm feeling behind it.
