Page 6 of 50 First Skates

Or maybe it’s just Dean.

When he asked for my number I told him about Digital Detox Week and that my cell phone, laptop, and iPad were currently locked up in a safe to force me to deal with the world in an analog way. I didn’t mention it was my dad’s rule. He rolled his eyes, and I get that it sounded like I just didn’t want to give him my number, but it’s true. I promised I’d meet him at the outdoor rink when it opens tomorrow morning. I didn’t want to give him the number for the landline because—Dad.

When we got back to the parking lot I gave him a hug. It was supposed to be one of those casual, friendly,Hey, it was nice meeting you—thanks for the walkkind of hugs. But as soon as my arms wrapped around his waist, his arms drew me in so close I caught my breath. The side of my face was pressed against his leather jacket, and I felt his hand touch the back of my head. He might have been smelling my hair? I don’t know. It was sweet and tender but also sexy. Like he was telling me with his body that he really hoped I wasn’t lying about Digital Detox Week and that he really wanted to see me tomorrow because he couldn’t believe how much he liked me.

Same, Dean,my body was saying back.Same.

I’ll tell Dad and Noah I’m going to Locally Forked for breakfast and meet him at the rink instead.

I don’t even feel guilty about it.

It’s the right thing to do; I just know it in my bones. And okay, yes, maybe I know it in other parts of me and they’ve convinced my bones and my brain that Dean Rafferty is worth breaking the rules for. But I think for once those parts of me are being smart.

And I’m going to sleep now because I can’t wait to wake up in the morning so I can see him again.

3

DEAN

March 25th

Well, this is a first, but I guess it had to happen eventually. Dean Rafferty finally got stood up by a woman. A special woman. For a morning skate date, no less. It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not going to make it mean more than it means. But fuck, I really wanted to see Soleil again.

I wanted to teach her to skate. I wanted a reason to touch her in public. I wanted her to grab onto me whenever she felt off balance and know that I was there for her. I wanted to be the creepy fucking weirdo who smells her hair again. And if things continued on the way they were headed yesterday, I wanted to kiss her and touch her beautiful boobs. And then buy a pickup truck that we could have fun in.

Instead, after casually skating around an outdoor rink by myself while carrying a pair of women’s size-seven skates for two hours, I’m meeting up with a bunch of bros for a late breakfast. I’ll probably join them for a beer-league hockey game tonight. My buddy Dave, who I went to high school with in Calgary, has been living in Kenton for six years, with his wife and little kid.He owns a hardware store and says I can work there off-season if I want, but that I have to play for his team, the Icebreakers, whether I want to or not.

So this is going to be my Wednesday instead.

It’s cool. I’ve regrouped. I’ve adapted. I can’t control what I can’t control. Maybe something came up for Soleil and she just couldn’t get ahold of me because she was digitally detoxing—nope. Not writing stories about it.The period is over. Onward. Focus on the next shift.

I leave the skates I’d rented for Soleil at the arena in the car and walk into Locally Forked. It’s not too crowded, and the customers are, in fact, eating with forks. I clock Dave at a table near the front with a couple of other guys and give him a nod. “There he is!” he calls out, like we’re in an arena and not a fancy diner. I forgot how loud he is. “Mr. Big ShotI have a date—I can’t play hockey tonightis joining us for the end of breakfast.”

“Why are you yelling?”

“I’m not yelling!” He points at the big guy sitting next to him. “This is Corey, one of our defensemen. He’s a mechanic and kind of an idiot, but he’s good at clearing the crease in front of the net. This handsome fella needs no introduction,” he says, gesturing toward me. “Dean Rafferty’s the hotshot new assistant coach of the Comets who could have turned things around but totally blew it.” And then, inexplicably, Dave looks over his shoulder and lowers his voice. “Shit. Everyone talk quieter.”

“You’rethe idiot, and I told you to talk quieter,” I say to him. “Good to meet you, Corey.”

“You and I got beef, bro…” he says as he grips my hand with his meaty paw.

“Fair enough.”

“But welcome. I recommend the Fairy Toast—avocado and egg on toasted sourdough with microgreens and grilled locally foraged mushrooms. “

Dave nods at the other guy, who looks like a goalie. “That’s our goalie, Winslow. He doesn’t like to talk. Winnie, Dean. Dean, Winnie.”

Winnie wags his chin at me and I give him a two-finger salute, but when I’m about to take the seat next to him at the table, a ray of sunlight reflects off of the prettiest, shiniest blonde hair I’ve ever seen and the jukebox song suddenly changes to “This Magic Moment.”

She’s here.

It’s Soleil. Standing up at the back of the diner next to a booth, putting on her coat. Looking right at me, but she isn’t smiling.

“Hey,” I say, playing it cool as I approach her.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” I vaguely hear Dave say, like I’m a toddler wandering away from him. “Rafferty, get back here!”

“Fancy meetingyouhere,” I say to Soleil.