The Billionaire's Secret Love Child(61)

I stiffly started to skate about before finding my stride. I could feel the cool air stinging in my nostrils, as I sped along the outer edge of the rink. It had been a while since I’d been on the ice myself, but I felt the memories of all my old lessons coming back to me.

I started skating backwards, as I was taught, and I felt a surge of adrenaline course through my veins. It was a feeling I always had before I did something that felt right, but was usually stupid. It felt right enough to me, as I pushed off the ice and did a quick spin in the air, narrowly landing without falling.

It took me a second to catch my breath; I hadn’t done any figure skating since before my dad died. Even so, landing that jump brought back a few memories that I wish had stayed buried, as I felt a couple of tears begin to form at the corner of my eyes.

A small bit of applause began to roar from the center of the ice. My skating had garnered their attention, against my better judgment. I turned to them and took a quick bow, to appease their cheers, skating backward the entire way.

Then I bumped into him.

I lost my footing and fell over backwards, my legs flipping over my head, making me land face first on the ice while still sliding backwards. Then a hand shot out to stop me, which was, at least, a modicum of solace.

I couldn’t make out who was helping me, but was thankful that I was being helped up at all. I barely needed to do any of the work, as it seemed he felt intent to pick me all the way up. In fact, he did, cradling me in his arms for a moment while laughing.

I rolled my eyes and pushed off, finding myself standing back on the ice and more than a little woozy from the fall.

“You know, you should watch where you’re going when there’s a crowd on the ice,” he said between laughs.

I scowled at him for a second before responding.

“You could have gotten out of my way!”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have seen you do a backflip. Did anyone tell you that you’re cute when you’re angry?”

I flared my nostrils and began to skate away. He followed after me, to my chagrin.

“Why are you following me,” I asked.

“I wanted to make sure I was there to catch you if you tripped over someone else,” he replied.

“I can see where I’m going, just go away,” I said, steering out of the way of the group on the center of the ice.

“Are you sure,” he asked, coyly.

I stopped and wheeled around to confront him.

“You’re the worst kind of jerk,” I started, “at least normal jerks stop bothering me when I ask them to.”

He laughed.

I hadn’t had a good look at him before, but now that I was looking at him face to face, and not woozy from falling over, he was actually a little attractive.

A smattering of thick stubble surrounded his chiseled chin, as his thick unkempt hair tousled around his head, falling down to his forehead in wavy circles. He was taller than me, even though I was on skates. I couldn’t see much under his puffy, thick, winter jacket, but he wore it well with a strong stature.

“Didn’t I see you at the game, earlier?” he asked.

Now that I looked, I saw the same icy blue eyes staring back at me that I’d seen during the game earlier.

“You’re the player that got shoved against the glass,” I said.

He tousled his hair with his hand.

“Yeah, I still feel that one,” he replied, “are you enjoying the party?”

I looked over at the group gathered around the keg; they laughed as though being drunk were the best thing in the world.

“I was enjoying it in my own way, until you decided that I should be doing backflips instead of skating,” I said.

He laughed.

I didn’t know I was a comedian.

“Considering how sober you are right now, you must come with me.”

I stared at him quizzically.

“Just follow me, it’s important,” he said, beckoning me to follow.

My curiosity was taking over, and out of instinct and adventure I followed. He led me to the other side of the arena, to the group gathered around the keg.

“I have the other person for my team,” he shouted.

The crowd let out a collected cheer, and I was regretting wearing my ice skates right now.

“Okay, here’s the game. It’s team style beer pong; the winning team gets to choose a suitable punishment for the losing team. Standard rules, no rebounds.”

I felt like an idiot joining in on this inane game. An excuse to drink and throw things around was all it really was, and thinly veiled at that.

A ping pong ball was thrust into my hand. I leaned over to my partner and whispered in his ear.

“What do I do,” I asked in earnest.

He leaned in to explain.

“Throw the ball into their cups, if it goes in they have to drink the contents of the glass, and the same goes for us. If they run out of cups, we win. You’re pretty sober, so I’m hoping you can throw straight.”

I flicked the ball around in my hand before lining up my shot. It landed right in the front cup. I felt a surge of excitement as the boy on their team picked up the glass and guzzled down the brown liquid.

My joy was short lived as he answered right back by splashing me with the beer in the cup in front of me. My partner gestured to the glass, and I begrudgingly took the glass and drink heartily.