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“Are you sure we can’t put it off a little longer?” I ask, my voice warbly with nerves.
“Absolutely, positively sure.” He steps backward, placing his skates on the ice. I still stand just at the threshold of the rink, my hands in his.
The last time I tried to rollerblade, which was about eleven years ago, it took me a minute and a half to fall, skin my elbow, and smack my chin right on the asphalt in front of my friend Cassidy’s house.
I’m not athletically inclined, okay? And just think of how much harder ice skating must be than rollerblading!
“Come on, Lockley,” Tuck says, that signature mixture of teasing and encouragement in his voice. “You can do anything, so you can sure as hell do this.”
I take a deep breath and place my right skate on the ice.
“Halfway there,” Tuck coaxes.
I narrow my eyes on him, and he throws his head back with a laugh. After another long, fortifying breath, I squeeze Tuck’s hands extra tight and set my left skate down on the ice.
“Break a leg,” Tuck says with a wink.
“Not funny,” I grouse, beaming a scowl at him. Tuck’s booming laugh in response, however, says we differ on that point.
“Just hold on,” Tuck says. He skates backward, and I bend my knees, trying to keep stabilized as he pulls me along with him. “See? Not so hard.”
I straighten my knees a little bit, trying to get my bearings on these thin metal blades. Tuck coaches me on how to push off with one skate and glide forward on the other, and soon enough, I’m tentatively skating forward while he’s skating backward, our hands clasped together, both of us moving around the rink as one.
“Fuck, Olivia,” Tuck says, his voice suddenly heavy with awe. “Your eyes.”
“My eyes?” I ask. I blink. “What about them?”
He turns one of his blades, bringing him to a sudden stop. I keep gliding forward, straight into his chest. He wraps his arms around me and looks down at me, his gaze hooded and boring into my own.
“Did you know that the human eye can see more shades of green than any other color?” he asks.
“No,” I shake my head.
“That fact feels like a gift from the universe to me. No matter what color your eyes were, I’d never get tired of looking at them. But the fact that every time I look in your eyes, I’ll see more shades, more specks of color, than I would in anyone else’s, that just feels like fate winking at me for falling for the right girl.”
Tuck’s lips close over mine, and I kiss him with the thrill of knowing that we have a lifetime of kisses ahead of us.
EPILOGUE
TUCK
When Olivia takes her bow with the rest of the cast, I’m on my feet, cheering myself hoarse, clapping my hands so hard that my palms sting.
The Champlain Theatre Company just finished its third night of Macbeth, with Olivia in the co-starring role.
The first night, Summer and Hudson were here with me. The second night, just Summer and me. The third night, I’m the last man standing.
That’s how it’s going to be. I’ll always be here in the audience to support Olivia. I know it’ll never happen, but if she ever performs in front of an audience of only one, that one person will be me, cheering and clapping loud enough to make up for everyone too stupid to realize what they’re missing out on.
Seeing Olivia put on three awe-inspiring performances in a packed Burlington theatre house is just the bright spot that I need right now, because this last month has been rough.
We made it to the finals of the Frozen Four. The Brumehill Black Bears vs. the Minnesota Monarchs. We skated out onto the ice feeling like we were on top of the world, feeling supremely confident after a dominant performance throughout the tournament.
Then, in the middle of the first period, Lane got tripped. He stuck out his right leg to try to keep his balance. The front of his blade snagged on the ice at the worst angle possible, and he broke his leg as he fell.
We had to play the rest of the game without our team captain, none of us able to stop worrying about him as he was transported to the hospital. We lost 1-4.
Our concern for Lane numbed the disappointment of losing the championship we spent all season dreaming of, almost expecting to hoist over our heads, like it was the only plausible ending to this season.
