Page 9 of Holiday Hater

“I’m pretty sure my ass could go through the ice…” I follow him once we get the skates on, doing the funny walk on the blades.

His laugh bounces around the ice-skating rink, everyone ignores it as we slide onto the ice. I can see instantly that he is competent and confident on his skates, and it only makes me feel even more like a bouffon as my legs shake and my body wobbles uncontrollably.

He spins around when he sees me struggling. Looking too sexy and way too cocky in his movements, he takes ahold of my hands and gives me solid support as we glide around the edge of the rink.

“Once you get used to it, you’ll relax. It’s really weird the first time.” He is obviously trying to be reassuring, but I really don’t think I’m going to pick this up or enjoy this the way he thinks.

We do a few very wobbly laps around before he lets go of one of my hands and encourages me to skate a little harder and find my feet. For a second I actually doubt myself and have a glimpse of enjoying it before my feet slide out from underneath me and send me to my bum before Noah can catch me. The pain slices up my back and down my legs but it doesn’t last.

“Shit! Babe, are you okay? I tried to catch you!” He puts his feet in front of mine and hauls me to my feet. “We can go slower.”

I smile and bite my tongue to keep from saying that I wouldn’t mind going faster if it means we can head to the exit and get off the ice. He drags me another few laps around the rink, each one painstakingly slow and no more enjoyable than the last. However, I try to keep some semblance of a smile on my face because I feel too mean to say that as far as I’m concerned, this stinks.

“Are you ready to try one-handed again?” He slowly inches away from in front of me again and lets go so we are only holding one hand and continues to show me how to push my feet off. One, two, three, four… Fuck. He doesn’t catch me this time either. Before I hit the ground, I know I’m about to hit it harder than I did last time but don’t have the split second to react before my head collides with the ice. Stars dance in front of my eyes as Noah shouts and hovers above me. Concern is etched deep across his face like the dents my ass and head most likely just made in the ice.

“Ouch.” I let him pull me up to sitting. The headache is instant and it hurts more than I want to admit. “Can we stop now? I’m really not enjoying this.”

“Of course.” He pulls me up like he did before and guides me straight to the exit of the rink and to the nearest bench. “Do you want to stop completely or have a rest and go again?” He sits down next to me, his hand resting on my leg.

“I want to stop completely. This really isn’t my thing, Noah.” The pain from my head sparks too much annoyance for a date. He knew I hated Christmas, so why did he bring me here? I can feel myself bubbling up to complain so I focus on breathing through my nose as I slowly unlace my skates.

“I just thought it was worth a try. Let’s go get some dinner.” He picks up my discarded skates as well as his own and goes to return them and collect our shoes. I want to drop it. I don’t want to hold on to the upset, but I can’t let it go. I can’t think rationally with the thumping headache and horny hormones racing through my body.

“I think I want to go home.” The words sound pretty final as he sits down beside me. He can’t hide the disappointment but nods and squeezes my knee as he puts my shoes at my feet.

“Okay.”

I wait for the regret of ending the evening early to hit me, but it doesn’t, even after I kiss him on the cheek and leave him at the poolside door. I’m not agreeing to anymore Christmas-themed dates because it simply doesn’t like me. It never has and it never will. That was our first bad date. I know it is inevitable when you date someone, but I had him so high up in my head that I didn’t expect it.

I know better than to go straight to sleep after the head injury when I crawl into bed, so instead I binge-watch the newest season of the trashiest TV show I can find. I need to worry about other people’s problems and not my own because my phone doesn’t ping with a message from Noah once. Even when I’m sure he must be home, he doesn’t send anything, making me wonder what he must be thinking now. Did that send him away for good? Will he want a girl that doesn’t like the family tradition of Christmas?

Chapter Ten - Noah

I sway between feeling bad about taking her on a date I wasn’t completely sure she would love and being upset with her over the fact that she didn’t try to like it very hard and could move past it afterward.

However, the more I think about her before she asked to go home, the more I realize she didn’t look like she enjoyed it for even a second. I can pinpoint the moment she realized we were ice-skating and how her mood dropped. I messed up. I should have asked her first and made sure she liked it before I took her there. I thought she would cheer back up and enjoy it and I was very wrong. I don’t think she would have told me she hated it if she hadn’t slipped back and hurt herself so bad.

I’m quick to jump out of bed and shower the following morning. I don’t even drink a cup of coffee before I walk out the door and walk up the stairs and around until I find her front door. I usually go through her back door but the front door is closer to her bedroom so it will save her a couple paces.

I knock and debate calling to her but I think her neighbors might have a complaint about shouting at seven a.m. on a Saturday morning. I continue to knock until the lock in the door sounds and I hear the bolt slide home.

“Noah! What are you doing?” I’d dragged her out of bed, that much is obvious as she shuffles straight back to her room and climbs back under the covers. “I was sleeping. Something you should be doing.” She talks to me but her eyes are already closed and she’s clearly already trying to go back to sleep.

I slide my shoes off and crawl onto the bed next to her, nudging her until she crawls onto my chest and cuddles up to me. “I’m sorry for such a shitty date.”

“You’re forgiven, but no more Christmasy dates. I don’t like them and they hurt.” She reaches up and rubs the back of her head, her eyes never opening. “I want normal dates. You know the ones where you go out, eat, and then come home and have sex. Not go out and then need to go to the ER.”

“Oh, you want to have sex, do you?” I suddenly can’t think of anything else and become painfully aware that she is lying in bed with only thin sleepwear on and probably no underwear underneath.

I’d been very intent on taking it slow, but if she’s thinking about it and that’s what she wants, then I suppose I can oblige.

She opens and closes her mouth a few times as I climb over her, obviously searching for something to say. My proximity quickens her breath, and my eyes are drawn to the rise and fall of her chest. Every inhale pushes her tits a little tighter in their restraint.

“I don’t know what I want.” It’s not true; she knows exactly what she wants. I know because she’s never doubtful of anything she does. She just needs a little help telling me.

“I see.” I lower my body, just enough to press her into the mattress and steal her lips for a slow kiss. She’s not keen on my reserve because she deepens the kiss and pulls me closer with her arms.

Mewing into my mouth, she drags her legs up the sides of mine as she wraps them around my hips. Joining them with hers, I know she can feel my arousal and this only seems to make her want to be closer.

---