Chapter 48 Chapter Forty-Eight
Vanessa POV
Danny showed up at exactly seven o'clock, which shouldn't have surprised me— he was nothing if not punctual but it still made me smile.
I opened the door to find him standing there in jeans and a thick winter jacket, his cheeks already pink from the cold that I really wished would just go away at some point.
"You look beautiful," he said, and the way he said it—like he was slightly awed made my stomach flutter for some reason.
"You haven't even seen my outfit," I pointed out.
I was wearing my warmest jeans, and about two layers on top including my favorite green sweater. I was very sure I looked like a puffed up chipmunk.
"Don't need to," Danny said.
"You always look beautiful."
"Flatterer," I said, but I was blushing as I grabbed my coat and followed him out to his car.
"So where are we going?" I asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.
"I told you, it's a surprise," Danny said, looking pleased with himself.
"And I told you I hate surprises," I reminded him.
"You're going to like this one," he promised.
We drove for about fifteen minutes, heading away from campus toward the outskirts of town. I tried to figure out where we were going based on our route, but Danny had taken enough turns that I'd lost track of it.
Finally, we pulled into a parking lot, and I looked up to see a building with a sign that read "Riverside Ice Rink."
My stomach dropped.
"Ice skating?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Danny turned to me, suddenly uncertain.
"I thought you said you'd never been ice skating, and I wanted to teach you. But if you don't want to, we can do something else. We can leave right now and get pizza or—"
"No," I interrupted, surprising myself.
"No, I want to try it."
And I did want to go– ice skating. I had told Danny that I didn't know how, mostly because I wanted nothing to do with that world.
But I was ready to try now,despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach, despite the fact that ice skating was intrinsically linked to hockey and I'd spent three years avoiding anything remotely connected to the sport, I wanted to do this.
With Danny.
"Yeah?" Danny asked, his face lighting up.
"Yeah," I confirmed.
"But if I fall and break something, I'm blaming you." I teased
"Deal," Danny said, already getting out of the car.
The rink was relatively empty for a Tuesday night—just a few families with young kids and a couple of teenagers practicing what looked like figure skating routines.
The cold air hit me as soon as we stepped inside, and I pulled my coat tighter around myself.
Danny handled getting our skates while I stood there trying not to think about how badly this could go.
While I was bad at skating, I'd never been particularly coordinated, and the idea of balancing on thin metal blades while sliding across frozen water seemed like a recipe for disaster.
"Here you go," Danny said, handing me a pair of white skates.
"What size did you say you were?"
"Seven," I said, taking the skates and examining them suspiciously.
We sat on a bench to lace up our skates, and I watched as Danny did this with practiced efficiency. Of course he did—the boy had probably been skating since he could walk.
"Need help?" Danny asked, noticing me struggling with my laces.
"I've got it," I said stubbornly, then immediately regretted it when I couldn't get the laces tight enough.
Danny gently took my foot and placed it on his knee, his fingers working the laces with easy competence. The gesture was so intimate, so caring, that I forgot to be embarrassed about needing help.
"There," he said, finishing the second skate.
"How do they feel?"
"Weird," I admitted, standing up carefully. Even on the rubber floor, I felt unsteady.
Danny stood too, and even on skates he moved with the kind of grace that came from years of practice. He offered me his hand.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Absolutely not," I said, but I took his hand anyway.
Walking to the rink entrance felt like walking in clown shoes that I was familiar with for some reason. They were awkward and slightly terrifying and when we stepped onto the ice, my feet went out from under me so fast I didn't even have time to scream.
Danny caught me before I hit the ice, his arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest.
"I've got you," he said, and I could hear the laughter in his voice.
"This was a terrible idea," I said, clinging to him like my life depended on it.
"This was a great idea," Danny countered.
"Come on, I'll teach you."
For the next thirty yDanny patiently guided me around the rink, his hands never leaving me as I wobbled and slipped occasionally windmilling my arms in a panic.
I could feel the familiarity of the motions as he showed me how to push off with one foot, how to glide, how to stop without falling on my face.
Bit by bit the muscle memories I had suppressed rose to the surface.
"You're doing great," he kept saying, suspiciously as I pulled away from him and slid one step on my own.
"I'm terrible at this," I said after nearly taking out a small child who'd gotten too close.
"You're learning," Danny corrected.
"There's a difference."
Slowly, I started to get the hang of it and my movements became less jerky, my balance more stable. Soon I had managed to skate a few feet without holding onto Danny.
"See?" Danny said,looking up at me suspiciously
"You're a natural.” he mumbled
"I'm really not," I said, but I was smiling too.
“Well, you're doing way better than I expected” he said brow arched
“ You lied to me didn't you, you do know how to skate” he asked following me on the ice and I grinned
“ I may have underplayed my abilities” I admitted
“ My father was very adamant about me learning as a kid, the problem was I wasn't very good at it” I mumbled, reaching for his hand.
“Well I can say that you are very good at it now” Danny mumbled as he grabbed my arm.
We skated together—well, Danny skated and I mostly shuffled along while holding his hands—and talked about everything and nothing.
I dived in at length about my meeting with Dr. Han, he talked about his upcoming practice schedule, about whether the action movie we'd seen was better or worse than the one that came out last year.
At some point, Danny started skating backwards while holding both my hands, pulling me along with him.
"Show off," I said.
"You love it," he said, and spun me carefully, making me laugh even as I clutched at him for balance.
When we finally left the rink an hour later, my legs were sore and I was pretty sure I'd have bruises tomorrow from the few times I had actually fallen. But I was also happier than I'd been in a long time.
"Thank you," I said as we drove back to my apartment.
"For tonight. For teaching me to skate again and being patient with me."
"I am glad I was able to help. I love skating, even if I don't have to play hockey, so I'm glad to share something, love with you" Danny said, reaching over to take my hand.
"Besides, watching you try not to panic every time you lose your balance was the highlight of my week."
"Rude," I said, laughing.
As we pulled into my parking lot, I realized something that should have been obvious but somehow felt like a revelation.
I'd just spent an evening ice skating—something intrinsically connected to hockey, to my father, to all the pain I'd been running from for years—and I'd loved every minute of it.
Not because the activity itself was particularly amazing, but because I'd done it with Danny. Because he'd been patient and encouraging and hadn't made me feel stupid for being terrible at it.
My father hadn't ruined this moment for me,maybe Dr. Han was right. Maybe I was finally learning to separate the sport from the pain.
And maybe, just maybe, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.