Ink and Ice, Erin McRae [primary phonics .txt] 📗

his laces with deft fingers. “If you’re going to write about me working my ass off when none of us know if I’m going to make it to the Olympics, I thought you should suffer a little bit, too.”

Despite the hour and energy required, a laugh burst out of Zack. “You’re evil.”

“I prefer ‘feral.’” Aaron said with a sharp smile.

Zack felt completely off balance. While he hadn’t expected the subject of an article about elite competitive sports to be mellow, Aaron’s bright sharpness, not to mention the fact that he was apparently a little shit, was a shock. Zack was drawn to him in a way that he told himself, firmly, was about the piece he was here to write and not about the way Aaron held his lower lip between his teeth as he tied off his laces and tucked them in.

“I raided the skate exchange for some skates for you.” Aaron said, nodding at the bag at Zack’s feet. “I wasn’t sure what your size was so I took a guess. Fitting skates is more of an art than a science anyway.”

Zack peered dubiously into the bag, glad for something to do other than stare at his subject, who would hopefully let Zack photograph him at some point as well. In the bag were several pairs of black figure skates, the leather variously scuffed, scarred, and patched with black tape. He looked back up at Aaron.

“Doesn’t the rink have rentals? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Aaron frowned. “No,” he said seriously. “I don’t teach anyone on rentals. They fit badly, they don’t offer any ankle support, and the blades are shit. You’d get hurt.”

“I might get hurt anyway,” Zack pointed out, pulling out a skate and looking for a size indicated anywhere on them."

“If you do, it won’t be because of something we could have prevented.”

The serious tone of his proclamation made Zack remember that both of them were here because of a freak accident no one could have foreseen, much less prevented. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair. Or kind.

The pair of skates he finally decided on—or rather, that Aaron decided on for him—felt snug, far more so than any shoe he had ever worn. They didn’t hurt, but the sensation was a lot. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but there also wasn’t anything he could do about it. He had agreed to take a skating lesson, and this was apparently what was required to skate.

“I’ll show you how to do the laces.” Without ceremony Aaron pulled Zack’s foot into his lap.

Zack sputtered. Whatever unprofessional attraction he might or might not have been feeling, he was not used to being manhandled so very effectively by someone a fraction of his size.

“Do you always have bad boundaries or am I special?” Zack asked, before his brain could wander into more dangerous territory, like noting how very good Aaron was with his hands or wondering what other things he might be able to tie.

Aaron’s eyes stayed focused on his work. “I don’t have bad boundaries. You don’t know how to tie skates yet, and I can’t describe the sensation to you. Sorry if it’s weird.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all. Which probably should have annoyed Zack, but all it did was make him more intrigued. Aaron’s mix of mischief, professionalism, and approval-seeking was not one he had encountered before.

“Jeez, that’s tight,” he said as Aaron finished.

“Does it hurt? Can you still feel your toes?”

“No. And yes.”

“Then it’s not too tight. It might even be too loose.” Aaron shoved Zack’s feet to the floor. “Stand up, let’s see how that works.”

Zack levered himself up and took a few wobbling steps forward. “I hope this is less awkward on the ice.”

Aaron gave him a crooked smile. “In the abstract? Yes. In reality, because you’ve never done this before? Not so much.”

With that, he took off a skate guard, set it on the boards, and stepped onto the ice in one fluid motion. Zack stared as Aaron glided on one foot and bent over to remove the other guard.

“Um....” Zack’s brain was frozen. He was obviously not supposed to do that. But he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Aaron on the ice was mesmerizing, even when he wasn’t doing any of the tricks Zack knew mattered from his attempt at in-flight research. On land Aaron moved with quick, energetic motions. On the ice, he seemed to flow with a grace that reminded Zack of someone gliding through water.

Aaron did a lap around the whole rink and came to a neat stop across the boards from where Zack was still standing, transfixed.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked, his face concerned.

“Yeah. Totally.”

Aaron was clearly not convinced. “Okay. Next steps. Sit back down, take your guards off, stand up, walk over to that door, and step onto the ice. Keep your feet under you. Hold onto the wall, and try to remember that frozen water is slippery.”

“Thanks,” Zack said dryly, but set about doing as he was told.

“It’s not you,” Aaron said calmly as Zack slowly managed to get himself onto the ice, mostly by holding on to the boards for dear life. “A lot of the time people are shocked that ice is wet.”

Once Zack had both feet on the ice and one hand firmly gripping the boards, Aaron skated backwards towards the center of the rink.

“Come join me out here!”

“Are you kidding me?” Zack said. Aaron was appealing—way more so than Zack had anticipated—but he still wasn’t motivating Zack to take his life into his hands in quite that way.

“You’ve seen people skate. Or use rollerblades or whatever. You also know how to walk. You don’t have to be fast or graceful, you just have to get over here. Also, don’t lean forward too much. The little teeth things at the front of your blades are toe picks, and you don’t know what to do with them yet, so they’re going to make you trip.”

“Uh... great.” It wasn’t that Zack would rather have