Page 3 of Jesse and the Ice Princess
Jesse bristled at that. Of course, he was still trying. The season wasn't over yet. He reached out and shoved Roman back. "You just know you won't get better no matter how hard you practice."
Roman grinned. "That a challenge, pretty boy?" He'd been calling Jesse pretty boy since the girls started fawning over his long lashes and bright blue eyes when he was barely a teenager.
Jesse gestured to the ice. "Be my guest."
"I'll go get my skates." He turned back into the tunnel.
Jesse skated back to where Cassie still stood. "He's going to shoot around with me."
She made a sound in the back of her throat but didn't utter a word.
"Go ahead." Jesse knew her too well.
"Why do you insist on keeping him around?"
"You don't like Rome?" He pursed his lips. Everyone liked Roman Sullivan—including the old Cassie. But he shouldn't expect this new version of Cass to be like everyone else. "I'll tell him to leave."
"Something tells me you're going to be the one leaving." She nodded toward a very angry looking girl marching toward the ice, her figure skates digging into the rubber flooring.
"Jesse Carrigan," she huffed. "Do you know how to read?"
He swallowed heavily as he always did when faced with Charlotte Morrison, the gorgeous daughter of Coach Morrison and most forbidden girl in the entire school.
He couldn’t take his gaze from the storm building in her eyes.
2
Charlotte
"Do you know how to read?"
As soon as the words left Charlotte's mouth, she wanted them back. They sounded like an insult from a five-year-old.
Who the heck says stuff like that?Apparently, she did.
She'd arrived at the rink for her early morning session as she’d been doing every Saturday for as long as she could remember. But there he was, messing up her ice. Ice she'd expected to find smooth and waiting for her to make the first grooves.
The kids at her school—athletes in particular—thought the world owed them. They didn't work for their privileged lives. Sure, her parents provided everything she needed, but she couldn't remember ever not working toward something greater, whether she wanted to or not.
"Do you speak?" she snapped, annoyed Jesse stood there gaping at her. At school, they called him "the king" because his middle name was King, but also because he was at the top of the food chain. She didn't know why. He was a somewhat capable forward on her dad's losing hockey team. Not something to brag about.
It wasn't like he'd medalled in every competition he'd entered since he was nine. Oh, wait, that was her.
Jesse seemed to recover from his brief moment of stupidity—if that was even possible. A smile spread across his lips, charm oozing out of his every pore.
"Why, if it isn't my favorite Charlie."
"That's not my name." She sat on the bench and bent to remove her skate guards.
"For the record, I can read just as well as anyone else."
The girl dirtying the ice with her street shoes snorted, and Jesse threw her a playful scowl.
Whoever she was, Charlie pitied her. Jesse Carrigan never dated anyone for long. She tried to put a name to the face, but she'd never seen the girl before. If she had, she'd remember. Dark hair that matched the shade of Jesse's and wide innocent eyes. Both aggravatingly attractive. Yeah, they looked good together.
Charlotte pulled out her phone and opened the rink's app her dad created. Simple, yet effective. She tapped the calendar for the rink's schedule and held it out for Jesse to see, pointing to the screen. "Saturday, January third—Charlotte Morrison."
He leaned his stick against the boards. "Oh, I don't look at that thing."
