Frozen Barriers (22 page)

Sunday morning has always been my time to be alone. Me and the ice. Nothing else matters. After my first official date with Jeremy on Friday and then an awful practice yesterday, I’m glad to have this hour-and-a-half to myself. Milton is making his final pass along the outside edge of the ice on the Zamboni as he drives by me. After tying the last knot of my laces, I pull down my leggings over my boot. I slowly make my way over to the ice, remove my blade guards, and step onto the even surface. I love the smoothness of the clean ice and the quietness of the rink without anyone judging me from the stands.

Skating my way over to the end of the rink, I stop to say good morning to Milton. “Hi, Milton. How have things been?”

Milton stops scooping the remaining slushy snow from the Zamboni and looks up at me. “Things are good around here. I see our local skater is a top contender for next year’s Olympics. The article in the
Globe
last week really put you in the spotlight.” Ugh! That article. Mother didn’t even tell me about the questions. Great manager she is. All I was told was the
Globe
was stopping by for some pictures and to ask a few questions. What she neglected to inform me of was the fact that they emailed her the article questions, and she answered them for me.

Not wanting to be rude to Milton, I respond, “Yeah, they did a great job. Guess I’m really going to have something to prove when I hit the ice in January for Nationals. Fingers crossed, right?”

With a big grin on his face, Milton leans the shovel against the wall and turns to say, “Well, if I don’t see you before January, best of luck to you, sweetie. We’ll all be rootin’ for ya’ here, but I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks, Milton. It was nice talking to you,” I say as I skate my warm-up laps around the rink. Feeling the need to do a quick run through of my programs before I work on jumps and spin, I crank up my iPhone and speakers. This year, I’m apparently into dark themes. I really don’t know why; I just feel a sense of impending doom. The story of my life. A lyric-free version of “Breath of Life” from the
Snow White & the Huntsman
movie fills the rink. My mind is on autopilot. I’m just moving around the ice, each move calculated just right. Double axel…spiral into footwork…sit spin…crossover into back outside edge…turn…stroke…gain speed…turn…triple lutz, triple toe…all calculated. No room for error. I screw up the short program, and there’s no coming back. My mother’s voice in my head instructing me to be perfect plays over and over, and I just want it to go away.

I don’t know what has changed in me. Normally, I am able to come out here day in and day out and handle all the pressures that go along with being a Cameron. I find myself sitting on the ice as my music continues onto my long program. The love theme from
Romeo & Juliet
rings through my ears as tears well in my eyes. What the hell is the matter with me? Sucking in a deep breath, I begin to stand when I hear my music suddenly stop.

“Anything I can help you with? I’ve got moves you won’t believe!” I hear someone say from behind me. Turning around, my eyes shoot up to see Dave standing in the players’ bench area.

Drying my eyes, I skate over to him. “What are you doing here?” I ask because there is no way anyone could know I would be skating here this morning.

He laughs to himself. “Well, when I checked the books to see a last minute ice block under the name ‘Gideon Cross,’ I found it a little odd since I’ve never seen that name before. I came to check it out and…well…here you are, ‘Gideon.’” Ah, one of my many pseudo names I’ve started since last year. If I reserve anything under my actual name, cameras tend to show up around here.

I raise my arms. “You caught me. Are you going to have me arrested for using a false name?” I say, teasing him. Really, I’m just trying to keep his eyes focused on my face after the last time I saw him. I might be covered at the moment, but it’s still awkward to know he’s seen me naked from the waist up. Then again, I did see all his goods too, so perhaps, we’re even now.

“Emily, Emily, Emily, I should have you arrested for what you did to Jeremy back in high school, but after my phone call with him yesterday, I’d say you’ve more than redeemed yourself in my book. I hear congratulations are in order. You are officially my best friend’s girlfriend. That means we are certainly going to be getting to know each other better,” Dave says with a wink and a soft punch to my shoulder.

“Oh, God. I don’t know if I should be scared of that or not, but I can tell you I should probably get back to practice.” Trying to make any excuse to avoid that conversation, I skate backward away from him, hoping he’ll walk away.

“Yeah, you probably should. From what I saw, you kinda sucked,” he says, laughing at me. “Are you gonna be at Sunday dinner this afternoon?” he asks.

“I should be, unless someone has me arrested,” I mock back, trying to be sarcastic.

I reset my iPhone and get my long program ready to run through as I see Dave pushing the doors to the lobby open, shouting, “See ya later, Gideon!” Skating back to the middle of the ice without hesitation, I realize my momentary feeling of dread has been replaced with a joyous expression.

As I’m leaving the team’s Sunday morning skate in Manchester, my phone chimes from my pocket. It’s a text message from Dave. Narrowing my eyes, I scratch my chin, wondering why he’s contacting me. I thought he was working at the rink this morning. He is planning on coming over later for dinner with the family since everyone, including Sue, is supposed to be there. There’s something going on there with him and her, but I’m not about to ask. Pulling up his text, I have to look at it twice to make sure I am reading it correctly.

Your girl is here skating-Or she was. She’s sitting in the middle of the ice crying right now. What do you want me to do?

Emily never mentioned that she reserved ice time at the Forum for this morning. Why would she be crying? Everything with us was good yesterday. We both had practice, but talked last night, and she was excited about coming over to meet my parents this afternoon. I type a quick text back to Dave.

Didn’t know she would be there. If she’s crying cheer her the fuck up asshole & do NOT hit on my girlfriend!

Laughing after I hit
Send
, I know he’s going to try to flirt with her. It’s just who Dave is. It’s like trying to keep a moth from a flame, but he knows she’s mine, so he’ll cheer her up with his cockiness.

Before I know it, it’s already three in the afternoon, and everyone should be arriving for dinner soon. Once I get home, I shoot Emily a text telling her to bring her swimsuit, since Dad spent hours cleaning out the hot tub for the
celebrity
coming to dinner. I haven’t heard from Dave or her since this morning, so I assume everything worked itself out. Emily has a strong head on her shoulders. If she was crying, something was definitely going on. I plan on finding out what prompted her little meltdown after dinner today.

As I’m about to call Emily to see where she is, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Assuming it’s Emily, I put away my phone. Dave throws open the door and storms in, causing the smile on my face to immediately disappear. “What, not happy to see me, asshole? You should be. I saved the day with your girl this morning,” he says sternly before smacking my shoulder and heading to the fridge for a beer.

“I thought you were Emily coming in, that’s all,” I say, disappointed it isn’t her.

“Dude, you didn’t know she was here? I saw her and Sue heading into your parents’ house before I came up here. Sue was basically dragging her in, but I think she was just trying to get away from me. That chick’s been avoiding me since we slept together. I’m not sure how she couldn’t
not
want another piece of this fine specimen.” Dave glances down at himself before running his hands over his abs down to his crotch.

Shaking my head at him, I can’t help but think he had to have been dropped as a baby. “Well, I know after what I saw here last week I don’t ever want to see your junk again.” Making my way to the door, I call Aspen to go over with us. “Let’s go. I’ve got to save Emily before Mom and Dad get to her. I’m pretty sure Mom will have already made my wedding plans before dinner if I don’t intercede.”

Walking into my parents’ house, I hear Mom in the kitchen giving orders to Dad about setting out the good china on the table.
Good china? We have good china? Is the Pope showing up for dinner?

Moving further into the house with Dave on my tail, I smell Mom’s famous meatballs simmering on the stove. My stomach growls, so I move to snatch a piece of Italian bread off the counter before she catches me. Too late. “Jeremy Page, that’s for later!” Mom scolds while hitting me with her dishtowel. Dad and Dave stand in the doorway just watching the scene unfold.

With my mouth full of bread, I ask, “Where’s everyone else?” Then, I hear the girls laughing hysterically, and I know they are downstairs in the family room. “Never mind. I know.” Before I make a move out of the kitchen, Mom grabs my elbow and whispers into my ear, “She’s absolutely wonderful, Jeremy. So sweet and polite. You screw this up, and I’ll disown you. You hear me?” Nodding, I try to make my quick escape to the family room, but not before I hear my mother say from behind me, “Grandchildren, Jeremy. I’m not getting any younger.” This is why I never dated regularly or brought girls back to the house.

I make my way down the basement stairs with Dave behind me. When I get to the bottom landing, my heart stops. Literally, it stops dead in its tracks. Dave nearly tumbles into me because I’m standing motionless. I mean, I am a defensive hockey player. I’m not going over easy. There, before my eyes, are Emily, Sue and Courtney all singing and dancing along to
Pitch Perfect
. Josh is sitting on the sofa shaking his head. The girls are swaying their hips, grinding, and singing along with the movie as all of them pretend to have a role. My eyes never leave Emily’s hips.

Josh sees us and sits up. “Dude, this movie sucks!” That gives away our position, and the girls all turn to us. Courtney starts laughing, but keeps humming along to the music. Sue moves to sit opposite Josh on the sofa, but diverts her eyes toward Dave. Seriously, I know they slept together, but what the hell? They’ve been friends for years. Eventually, those two need to talk. Emily stalks over to me, still lip-synching along to the movie and fist pumping the air. Once in front of me, she wraps her arms around my neck and leans in to whisper into my ear, “Were you standing there long?”

Shaking my head no, I tell her, “Long enough to know your hips do magical things in and out of the bedroom.” Hearing Dave choking behind me says I wasn’t subtle with the delivery of my words, and by the blush on Emily’s face, I know the whole room must have heard my response. Great, just great.

Before anyone can question my slip of the tongue, Dad appears at the top of the stairs to announce dinner is ready. Thank God! As everyone begins running for the dining room, I need a minute alone with Emily before heading into the lions’ den. “Hey, is everything okay today? Dave said he saw you at the rink this morning, crying. Wanna talk about it?” I ask her.

“No, I’m good. I just had a moment, but it’s all good now.”

Reaching over to run my fingers across her cheek, I move my lips down to hover over hers before giving her a warm kiss. “All right, if you say you’re good, then let’s go up to the interrogation room. Are you ready for this? It’s going to be worse than
Twenty Questions
, but I’m right here if you need saving,” I say as I start walking toward the stairs.

Behind me, I hear her laughing before she says, “As long as they don’t ask about sexual preferences, I think I can handle the paparazzi.”