Breaking the Ice, page 12
By the time the crowds have left the rink and moved to grab hot cocoa (served by the Pickman family) from the Sweet Shack, I’m emotionally wrung out. I feel like I’ve talked to more people in the last fifteen minutes than I have in the past year. If not more.
I’m about to walk toward the Sweet Shack when someone calls my name. I turn around, bracing myself for who I’m about to see. Don’t ruin today, I want to beg him, but I don’t say anything.
“You were good out there,” Brian says, staring at his sneakers.
I was what?
“Uh, thank you.”
He takes a deep breath in and then exhales quickly. “Listen, I’m really sorry about everything I’ve said to you. I just . . .”
He turns away, and I wonder if he’s going to leave.
“You were scared.”
He nods, still not facing me. “I was. And I felt totally powerless. I couldn’t protect Bea from getting hurt, but I could yell at you. I could protect her from you. And I guess I started just focusing on that. Even when you dropped off the team. I just . . .” He turns to face me. “I’m really sorry. I realized that hurting you wasn’t going to make anything better. And plus, Bea said she’d never talk to me again if I didn’t apologize.”
I laugh, and after a moment, he joins in. “Do you forgive me?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, and I do. But most of all I’ve forgiven myself. “Thank you for apologizing,” I tell Brian.
“So . . . truce?” he says.
“Truce,” I agree. I know Brian and I won’t be close like we were before, but that’s okay. Relationships change.
We walk together to the Sweet Shack. “Do you think you’ll go back to hockey?” he asks me.
I search his voice for recrimination, but it isn’t there. He’s just curious.
“I think so?” I say slowly. “I really miss hockey. But I’m not sure in what way. Like maybe I’ll play in a rec league or something. I don’t know how I feel about being back on the school team.”
He shrugs. “The team needs you,” he says.
“They have a great captain already.”
He frowns. “I wasn’t saying you should be the captain. You walked away; now it’s Bea’s turn.”
“As I said, they have a great captain already.”
“Okay,” Brian says with a smile, holding up his hands. “Truce, remember?”
“Truce,” I agree.
And then we walk toward the Sweet Shack to get hot cocoa.
“Ready to get back on the ice?” Jason asks after everyone else has left the Skatium for the evening.
I’d hoped he’d have forgotten about it or decided that with everything that happened at the Showcase, I didn’t need to get back out here. I feel like today was an emotional roller coaster, and I can’t believe he really wants to skate now.
But I nod, because of course I’m going to get on the ice with Jason. I can’t imagine giving up the opportunity.
“You were amazing out there,” I say as I finish tying my laces. “I know everyone said it but really—”
“Thanks.”
I lean forward and up, testing the fit of my skates when I’m standing. I wish I needed to tighten something or fix a bunched-up sock, but of course, they seem just fine. I test my balance by shifting from side to side, and Jason holds out his hand.
“Okay,” I say, staring at the tops of my skates. “I know it sounds dumb, but if your plan for today was to skate faster than the other day, can we skip that? Because I’m really not feeling up to it.”
“That’s not my plan.” His hand is still outstretched, and I place mine in his.
We’re holding hands. Palm to palm.
Totally not a big deal except that it’s a huge deal. I almost forget about the skating with all the butterflies that have been let loose inside my belly.
Because I kind of like this. Like a lot.
I like holding hands with Jason.
“You okay?” he asks as he opens the door to the rink with the hand that is not holding mine.
I’m not okay, I want to tell him, but not for the reason you imagine. We’re holding hands, and it’s messing with my brain.
Except, while all this is freaking my brain out, we’ve apparently stepped onto the ice, and we’re now gliding.
I’m gliding on the ice. And holding Jason’s hand. Like it’s a movie or something.
Luckily, Jason seems as distracted as I am, though probably not for the same reason. He’s probably totally used to holding hands with a girl on the ice, and I’ll bet he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
“So, I—um, I actually need your help with something,” Jason stammers, his eyes focused on the ice.
“Of course,” I say.
“You know how things ended with Carly in a blazing fire of glory?”
I nod.
“Well, I kind of haven’t skated with anyone since then.”
Oh.
Oh!
“But I don’t know how to figure skate,” I point out. “I would do it if I could, but the way I skate and the way you skate are totally different. Like night and day. And I’d be a terrible partner for you and—”
“You could just say no,” Jason says, pulling his hand away.
Except, I’m not letting him get away with that. I grip his hand harder.
“Tell me what to do.” I look him straight in the eyes.
“Seriously, you don’t—”
“There’s going to be no special treat for you if you don’t show me what to do,” I demand.
He raises his eyebrows. “You have a special treat for me?”
“I’ll find one if I need to,” I say with a swagger. “And it will be good.”
Jason seems skeptical. “As good as a ride on a Zamboni?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, you’re right, I don’t have anything I can promise that isn’t food. I can make a new hot cocoa flavor for you, and you’ll be the only one who gets it.”
“That’s actually pretty cool. Okay, here’s what I need you to do.”
For an hour, I don’t think about hockey. Instead, I follow along to Jason’s instructions, learning what it means to pace myself with a partner, how to communicate using touch, anticipate another person’s next move.
In some ways, it’s similar to what I’d do as part of the team: how you learn to almost think as a group, know where everyone is on the ice.
When we’re done, I feel exhilarated, but I’m probably going to feel super sore tomorrow.
“This was actually fun,” I admit as we walk off the rink and onto the rubber matting.
“Actually fun?” He smirks, and I stick out my tongue.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” he says, and he almost seems bashful.
“It was really fun,” I insist. “See, I was never a big fan of figure skating but it’s . . .” The look on Jason’s face is priceless.
“Oh, tell me, great hockey player, what is it?”
I roll my eyes as I make it to the doorway of the rink. “Forget it.”
“No way,” he says, grabbing the door before I can. “What were you going to say? Figure skating is hard? Challenging? Exhausting? Exhilarating?”
He’s seriously adorable, and it’s hard for me to breathe. Could there be a chance that he’s interested in me? Not just as a friend, but actually interested?
What would that mean? Will we go to the movies together? Hold hands at the rink?
Will we kiss?
Any breath that was left in my body whooshes out and I only hope that Jason can’t tell. I think about telling him that I should get home, that I forgot I was supposed to be there for dinner, but I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I won’t run away.
“Figure skating is awesome,” I say, and I mean it.
“Thank you for helping me today.” His words are so quiet, I almost can’t make them out. But I can feel them in my heart. “I think that when my new coach arrives here, I’ll be feeling better about finding a new partner, too.”
“Thank you for helping me out a billion times more,” I say. “I’m thinking that I’d like to go back to hockey in some way. And a lot of that is because of you.”
Jason smiles, but he’s also looking at me with an intensity that makes me want to jump up and down a million times.
Because I, Harper Evans, want him to kiss me.
What could be more perfect than a first kiss at a skating rink?
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice that Jason’s gaze has dropped. “I should probably head home,” he says. “I guess we’ll only see each other at school, now that the mentoring program is over.”
My chest feels like it’s sinking in on itself. Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss me. Maybe this whole thing is in my head.
But on the other hand, maybe he might be . . . sad?
“We’ll still see each other,” I say, and his head pops up. “At the rink, when you’re practicing. I’ll still be working at the Sweet Shack.”
“Oh yeah,” Jason says, and his face lights up. “Thank goodness for hot cocoa.”
He starts to turn away again.
“Jason,” I call out before I have a chance to let my brain catch up.
He turns back, and it takes me three steps until I’m right in front of him.
“Um . . .” My brain is taking over, and it’s telling me to reverse course, that this is dangerous, that he’ll probably freak out and run away. “I really like you. Like I think I like you, like you. Like . . .”
I really should have thought this through better. Maybe written a script. I could still salvage this by telling him I’m exhausted and not talking sense, or by running. Running is always a great option.
Instead, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I mean, I like you a lot. You’re really cool and nice, and it’s not a big deal if you don’t feel the same way—”
“I like you, too,” he says quickly. “A lot. I think you’re also really cool and—”
“You don’t have to say that just because—”
“I’m not!”
“It’s just . . .” My stomach is likely to hurtle right out of my body. “I’m wondering if maybe you want to do something together one day. Like go someplace that isn’t the Skatium. But—”
“I’d like that,” he says softly. “But just so I’m clear, we’re talking about going on a date?”
My heart is beating like I’ve been running a marathon.
“Harper?”
I nod. “Yeah. I meant on a date.”
Jason grins. “That would be awesome. Actually, I had an idea. Ever since the two of us started hanging out, I’ve wanted to rewatch the movie The Cutting Edge. Because, you know, the figure skater and hockey player—”
“I know. I’ve seen it. Are you trying to get me to leave hockey for figure skating?” I ask in mock anger.
“No, no!” He holds his hands up. “But I’d been worried about suggesting it because, you know . . . there’s some kissing and I didn’t want you to think that—”
“That you wanted to kiss me?”
“Yeah.”
There’s a long beat of silence. “Yeah, that’s what you didn’t want me to think, or yeah, you want to kiss me?”
I can tell that he’s trying to hide a massive smile. “Yeah, I want to kiss you.”
“Huh,” I say, tapping my lips with my index finger, the way they do in the movies. “Well, I want to kiss you, too.”
“You do, do you?” Jason takes a tiny step forward. “Do you want to kiss me now?”
I feel like there should be a spotlight on the two of us, standing so close, everything silent around us. “Yeah,” I say again.
Jason blinks rapidly, and for a moment, we’re at a standstill, like we might stay in this spot forever. And then it’s like there’s an invisible force pulling me toward him, and my hands reach up, but I don’t know where they’re supposed to go. His face? His shoulders? Out in the air?
I let them drift to his shoulders, force my brain to chill out, and close my eyes. I don’t know who closes the final half inch of distance, but suddenly, I feel his lips swipe against mine, once and then again. And then, as though all that skating together today made us even more in sync, we tip our heads forward until our foreheads rest against each other.
“We should do that again,” I say, and Jason chuckles.
“I totally agree.”
I’m so grateful to have once again had the opportunity to work with an editor I adore and who helps me become a better writer and storyteller with every edit. Aimee Friedman, along with Olivia Valcarce and Kristin Standley, makes me feel lucky to be able to write for Scholastic. Special thanks as well to production editor Nora Milman, copy editor Susan Hom, and designer Jennifer Rinaldi.
Everyone deserves an agent who is as encouraging and motivating as Rena Rossner. I’m grateful she took a chance on me and does it over and over again; I can’t imagine doing any of this without her. Equally as important, I have the best critique partners, bar none. We may no longer have the time to read each other’s manuscripts, but the support and encouragement I receive from Megan Erickson, AJ Pine, and Lia Riley keep me going. It doesn’t surprise me at all that I was with you guys when the Zamboni appeared.
A special thanks to Anne Marie Chaker for talking me through girls playing hockey, and my local Canadian crew in Chicago—Deb Hamilton, Anat Geva, Inbar Kirson, and Yael Bendat-Appel—for keeping me feeling connected to the home country. If I had my way, I’d gift you all with big bags of Montreal bagels and boxes of Timbits.
As always, I couldn’t have done any of this without the help of my family. Jonah, Micah, and Toby: I’m sorry I always wind up writing during family vacations, days off, evenings, etc. Thanks to Jess and Zane for taking over and bringing in the fun. And to my mom and my mother-in-law for always having my back. To Rebecca Ben-Gideon, who proves every day that just because you’re not on the family tree doesn’t mean you aren’t family. And finally, to Josh, the best partner I can imagine in this crazy world. Love you, hp.
NATALIE BLITT is the author of Carols and Crushes and Snow One Like You. Originally from Canada, she now lives in the Chicago area with her husband and three sons.
Carols and Crushes
Snow One Like You
Copyright © 2019 by Natalie Blitt
This book was originally published as Cocoa Crush in paperback by Scholastic in 2019.
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This edition first printing 2025
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Natalie Blitt, Breaking the Ice
