Page 5 of 50 First Skates

I had to get out of the store before Sheryl saw me because I didn’t want her to mention Dad or mention me being there with Dean to Dad or anyone else.

I am so glad Dean showed up at the park.

It was such a beautiful day. Remarkably sunny and kind of warm for mid-February, which is crazy because it was really cold yesterday. It’s like the universe wanted me to have an excuse to invite him to the park for a walk. There was hardly anyone else around since it was 10:30 on a Tuesday. He rolled up in a white Chevrolet Malibu, which he quickly informed me was a rental: “Had a 1970 Dodge Challenger in Calgary. Got it pretty cheap, worked on it myself when I had time. She was such a beauty. But I was advised to sell it because it wouldn’t be practical to drive around these parts.”

“Oof,” I said. “I bet it wasn’t easy to let her go.”

“It really wasn’t. She was irreplaceable, but…it was the practical thing to do. No regrets. I’ll buy a truck one of these days.”

“Trucks can be fun too…” I said, in the most flirtatious way I could have said those five innocent words, as if I’d ever had a really good time with a guy in the back of a truck. I barely knew this man, but there I was in a parking lot, imagining making out with him in the back of a pickup truck under the stars. He’d probably bring pillows and extra blankets and make sure I camefirst. “Well. Wanna go for a walk with me?” is what I said out loud.

“I do,” he said. “I really do.” And for a second I thought he was going to reach out to take my hand. What’s crazy is I wanted him to. But he didn’t. He did, however, lightly touch the small of my back when he said, “Lead the way.” It sent a shiver up my spine and warmth through my belly. I’ve read about that kind of thing happening in books but never felt it before.

We walked along the lakeside promenade. He’d never been before, and I was so happy to be the first person to show him my favorite part of Kenton. The bandshell is closed up this time of year, and the park was deserted. The lake wasn’t exactly inviting, but that slate-gray water is beautiful now in a stark, cold way. I love painting that view in the winter. I could even see buds on the trees. It’s like all of Kenton was slowly starting to wake up in the way my insides were as soon as I met Dean. We didn’t talk at all for a few minutes, and that was nice.

Then we naturally came to a stop by the beach, which was empty, and looked out across the lake to the mountains. We just stood there at the edge between the path and the sand, side by side, breathing in the cool, fresh air and taking in the scenery. Listening to the ever so quiet waves and the occasional bird. Back at Sheryl’s store we were flirting like it was a nightclub, but standing there like that, just experiencing something quietly, it felt intimate. It was so romantic.

At a certain point it felt like we were both waiting for the other to break the silence. To see who could handle it the longest. And I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to steer the conversation away from the Comets, but I had questions. Who was this guy, and why was I so into him?

I asked him how he got into coaching junior hockey, and he said he played in the NHL for Calgary for two years and then he injured his hip during a game at twenty-three, had threesurgeries, and the team told him to cut his losses. “Labral tear with cartilage damage. There was a chance it could have healed well enough after the first surgery and I could have gotten back out there. But it didn’t. Spent a year recovering, feeling sorry for myself, doing rehab. When I turned twenty-four, I started coaching junior league. I wanted to stay in hockey, and junior was the fastest way into coaching.”

“I’m really sorry that happened,” I said. “I bet you had been dreaming of playing in the NHL since you were a kid.”

“Enh. Only since I was ten,” he said with a half grin, but I could tell he was a little sad.

“So, how’s your hip now?” I found myself asking. “Does it still hurt? Does it limit your ability to do…things?”

“To be clear,” he said, turning to look me straight in the eyes, “my hip is too damaged to perform explosive lateral movement at high speed. It can’t withstand an eighty-two-game schedule, sprints, and back-to-backs. But I can still play casual hockey and perform in every way I need to in everyday life. My range of motion and stamina is better than most twenty-eight year olds’.” He was so chill the way he said, “May not be at the pro-athlete level anymore, but I’m still fully capable of maintaining vigorous thrusting motions from many angles for long periods of time.”

Shew!

“That’s some elite-level cocky talk right there, mister,” I somehow managed to say.

“Just tellin’ it like it is, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk. And oh, when he smirked. He has a dimple. That dimple was trouble. The dimple needed to go sit in a corner for a time-out. But I also really liked the dimple and wanted to bring that dimple home with me so I could make him soup and Netflix and Chill for a couple of hours. You know, in an alternate universe where I don’t still live with my dad.

I really need to get a better-paying job so I can move out. Or maybe I should take up Jessie’s offer and live with her until I can afford my own place. But that’s neither here nor there. And no matter how annoying Dad can be, the thought of him living by himself still breaks my heart a little.

Anyway. Dean asked me if I make a living as an artist, and I told him I teach painting at the community center and sometimes get commissioned to paint murals around town. He asked if I’d show him my murals sometime. But the way he said it I swear what my vagina heard was “Can you show me your boobs sometime?” And I was like, yes. Yes, Dean Rafferty, I can do that.

I watched him look around at the lake and the mountains across from the park, all the evergreens. He was in awe. I was kind of jealous of the landscape. How weird is that? I just wanted him to look atmelike that. I want him to be dazzled and dumbfounded by my peaks and valleys and the body of liquid he’s responsible for in my panties.

I asked him if he likes living in Kenton so far.

“I mean, my first week here was a whirlwind and the last couple of days I was mostly inside, so I haven’t seen a lot of it. Honestly? I’m used to big prairie sky. I’ve traveled around the continent a lot, but usually to big cities. At first it felt kind of claustrophobic being surrounded by mountains like this, especially when I first drove in from Vancouver. But now…” That’s when he turned his head and looked at my face, then let his gaze lazily glide down my torso and back up to my eyes again, and he said, “I think the view is stunning.”

Swoooooon!

Not many guys could have pulled that off, but he really stuck the landing.

When we walked by the outdoor skating rink he said, “I heard the guys talking about that rink. They said there’s a bigLast Skate event at the end of March before they melt the ice. You going to that? Because I was thinking about going.”

It was kind of sweet that he brought that up since it’s, like, a month and a half in the future. I loved that he was angling to make plans that far out. But I told him I wasn’t planning to go because I don’t skate. He was shocked to hear this. Slightly appalled, really, but not in a rude way. He asked why, and of course I couldn’t tell him it’s because my dad is overprotective of me and has always forbidden me from skating. That might have led to him asking about my dad, and then I would have had to tell him that my dad is the head coach of the Comets. His boss. And that he would never, ever be okay with me showing Dean my boobs or Dean showing me how vigorously his hips can thrust from various angles.

So instead, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I just never got around to learning how, and now all my friends are so much better at skating than I am. I didn’t want to slow them down. So I usually just stay home and paint when they go skating.” And then I told him, “But to be honest, lately I’ve been thinking it’s time I learned how.”

He said, so sincerely, “Well, Soleil, this is your lucky day. Because it just so happens I’m an excellent coach who’s very patient and very good at teaching beautiful women how to skate. And by beautiful women, I mean you. Only you.” He said he could start teaching me first thing tomorrow morning. And I said yes. Didn’t even think about it. I just said yes. Because that’s how I felt when I was with him. This undeniable, not at all scary, exquisite, full-body yes.

The only thing that ran through my mind was how am I going to get skates? They don’t rent them out at the outdoor rink. I figured I could stop by Jessie’s place to borrow hers. She’d keep my secret. But then he offered to rent a pair of skates for me from the arena. How sweet is that? Cockyandthoughtful. Ididn’t even know that was a thing. Maybe that’s how they grow ’em over in Calgary.