Tonight I have a one-on-one session with Finlay to work on some of the lifts. Last session his partner, Giselle, twisted her ankle, so she’s taking some time to recover. I didn’t want Finlay to miss this session, though.

I look up at Randy and gesture to my outfit. “Thanks a lot; this whole thing is ruined now.”

“I’ll take you to get new ones.”

“Hell of a lot of good that’s going to do me now.”

“I’m sorry.” He jams his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I got excited thinking about the cottage and spending time with you without work getting in the way.”

I don’t want him to feel bad for making me feel good. I share his enthusiasm, even if his timing could be better. I put a hand on his chest and give him a quick kiss. “I know. Me too. I gotta go, though.”

I close my locker and head for the ice on unsteady legs in a skating outfit that fit a lot better less than ten minutes ago. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror before I push through the doors to the rink. My hair is all messed up in the back, so I quickly finger-comb it. My tights are sliding down because the waistband is so loose. My cheeks are flushed, my lips swollen, my eyes bright. I can smell Randy’s cologne all over me, and I’m pretty sure I also smell like an orgasm, but that could all be in my head.

There’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m annoyed that I look like such an unprofessional mess, but hopefully Finlay is too focused on learning the routine to notice.

He’s already out there when I hit the ice. Finlay turned nineteen recently and has been skating competitively since he was a child. He’s an incredible skater, but I know he’s worried about the lifts and the jumps. Since I know this routine, my boss called in a favor and asked if I would be willing to coach him and his partner. They’ve already made state, and now they’re looking at nationals. Those two are magic together when they’re on. It’s an honor and a big deal to be asked to do this. Summer hours mean I have the time, so I couldn’t say no.

Finlay looks antsy. He’s been great, if not a little unsure of himself, the two times I’ve worked with him and Giselle so far. I’ve heard he can be a bit of a perfectionist, and hard on himself and his partner in terms of expectations. I’m hoping this session will help keep things smooth and easy between them. He’s feeling some guilt over Giselle’s minor injury, even though it wasn’t his fault.

He glances at the clock. I’m two minutes late. “I thought maybe I got the time wrong.”

“Sorry. One of my laces broke; I had to relace with a spare.” The lie comes smoothly.

He looks down at my skates, eyes moving over my outfit. My freaking tights are already falling down. Randy’s going to hear it from me later.

I clap my hands together. “I guess we should warm up.”

“I was a little early. I’ve already warmed up.”

“I meant together. I’ve been on the ice all day, so I’m about as warmed up as I’m going to get, but I’m happy to do a few laps to get us in the groove.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, of course.” He bobble nods. “That sounds like a good idea.”

I skate a tight circle around him and then speed off down the ice, adjusting my damn tights. At least the little skirt covers some of the issue. I’m kind of nervous about this session. It’s one thing to teach other people how to skate together; it’s totally different when I’m the one involved in the togetherness. Pairs requires a lot of trust and communication. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to skate with another person. And now, on top of dealing with the newness of this situation, my attention is divided because my tights keep sliding down, and all I can think about is how that happened. Goddamn Randy and his magic tongue and fingers.

Still, all I have to do is invest an hour, and then I’m free for the weekend.

After a few laps around the rink, the guy in the sound booth cues the music, and we start the routine. Finlay has the first part down, but whenever he has to make physical contact, he gets all twitchy and unsure of himself, especially when there’s a lift.

“Are you okay today?” I ask when he fumbles me for the third time.

“Uh, yeah, just…there’s a guy in the stands, and he’s been watching us for, like, ten minutes. He looks really familiar.”

I look around the arena and spot Randy sitting in the stands.

Randy rarely stays to watch me, and I have a feeling it’s no coincidence he’s decided to stick around while I’m teaching Finlay. His neediness this week, his sneaking into the locker room, the “impromptu” orgasms he couldn’t wait to give me, my smelling like I’ve doused myself in his cologne—all this leads me to believe his behavior is orchestrated and intentional. And I don’t know quite what to make of that.

When the song ends, I suggest we take a short break and grab some water.

Finlay looks to where my problematic boyfriend is sitting. “That guy totally looks like Randy Ballistic.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s because he is.”

His eyes go wide. “Holy shit. What’s he doing here?”

“Being a pain in my ass.”

“Huh?”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

I almost enjoy his shock. “Wow. I wasn’t sure if that was a rumor or not.” He gestures between us, looking understandably nervous. “So is this a problem?”

“No. He’s waiting because he doesn’t have anything better to do. I’ll be right back.”

I skate over to Randy, because I’m not exactly sure it isn’t a problem, based on what happened in the changing room. He’s reclining in a chair one row back from the boards with his arm slung casually across the seat next to him. He flashes me a smile that’s anything but easy.

I point a finger at him as soon as I’m close enough. “I’m on to you.”

His eyes flare slightly before he cocks his head to the side, giving me his signature grin. “On to me? It’s not like I was hiding out. I’m just watch—”

I cut him off. “Don’t even think about lying.”

He opens his mouth and then closes it. Speechless Randy is new. He has a quick retort for just about everything.

I take advantage of his silence. “Yes or no, you ambushed me in the locker room so I’d smell like you and orgasms when I came out here to practice with Finlay.”