Page 93 of Ruin The Friendship
“Whatever you say. I won’t be doing any jumps.” She gestures at her stomach, and I stop before we step onto the ice.
“Of course, gotta protect the little ladybug. You’ll teach me some tricks, though?”
“Sure, we can start with a loop, or a waltz.”
“Fancy.”
“I’m only doing this if you promise to do one for your next goal celly.” She pokes her finger into my chest.
“Pinky promise.” I steal her finger, interlocking our pinkies and lifting her hand to my lips.
Lydia inhales sharply, her gaze softening.
After I drop her hand, I open the door to the ice and step on, reveling in the familiar glide as I take my first strides.
Being on the ice feels like home to me. It’s the same feeling I get when I have Lydia in my arms. I look around the empty, dark arena that’s only lit up with a few of the spotlights above us. Having Lydia here with me feels even better than I could have imagined. With my two worlds colliding into one, a sense of rightness seeps into my bones.
“You coming?” I ask, skating back to the bench and holding out my palm for her.
She takes my hand and glides onto the ice like an angel. I pull her into me, turning us in a small spin.
Her eyes widen as she looks up at the arena. “Wow, so this is what it looks like from your perspective.”
“Mhm,” I mumble, but again, my eyes are locked on her. I take her hand. “Let me show you my favorite spot on the ice.”
We skate until we’re in perfect view of the suite she usually sits in when she comes to games, unless she chooses to sit in the lower bowl. Even then, she’s in this area, in the third row. I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her, and pointing up to the suite. “Perfect view.”
Lydia looks up. “I like it up there, too. I love seeing you on the bench. You’re always so focused. It’s hot watching you play.”
I choke on air and clear my throat. My dick throbs in my pants, and I have to subtly adjust myself before saying, “Ready to teach me some tricks?”
“Absolutely.” She giggles, clearly seeing my reaction.
We skate back to center ice, and Lydia explains how to do a loop jump. She’s such a good coach. It sounds like another language, the things she’s saying, but when she puts it all together, it makes perfect sense.
“I’m not going to do a full demonstration,” she says. “I don’t trust my center of gravity anymore.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t really thinking when I came up with this idea.”
She shakes her head. “I love this idea, but I’d rather err on the side of caution.”
“Same.”
She adds a few more notes, showing me with her body how to take off and land, and showing me what to do with my arms. I stand next to her, mirroring each movement, then she sends me out to give it a try.
I can totally nail this, no problem. I’m a professional, and six-year-olds do these tricks all the time. I got this.
I replay her instructions in my mind, skating backward,gaining speed, ready to propel myself. Holding my arms out, I turn and lift off the ground, only to promptly land on my ass with a loud grunt.
Laughter fills the air as I sit up, finding Lydia clutching her stomach, her phone in her hand.
“Did you record that?” I stand and wipe off my ass.
“Yes,” she says through her laughter. “Maybe we should start with a bunny hop instead.”
“A bunny hop? I can do a bunny hop. I jump all the time!”
“Show me.”
