Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Do you think I need eyelash extensions?” Darcy asks suddenly, looking up from her magazine.
“I think need is a strong word when it comes to eyelash extensions.”
“You only say that,” she says, “because you’re not a redhead.”
“Is there going to be time on this trip to get that pedicure we talked about?” I ask. “Does the hotel have a spa?”
She turns to me with a squeal. “You’re a genius. I’m on it. I’ll find us a place.”
“Awesome.” At least I have something fun to look forward to on this trip.
I’m not looking forward to bumping into Chase Merritt. And I’m not looking forward to seeing whatever nonsense O’Connell does with his send-up video. I can hear him and Weber chatting across the aisle. “It’s gonna be sick,” Weber promises.
I check the time and realize that Chase is at the chiropractor right now. Which means he may be cursing my name already. Either I’m right about his alignment or I just caused him a pointless doctor visit and some frivolous X-rays.
Leaning back in my seat, I try to think about something other than Chase Merritt. But I can still hear the strains of “Wicked Game” playing somewhere nearby, reminding me of the second-best night of my life. Whether I want to remember it or not.
Chapter 20
Nine and a Half Years Ago
Zoe is standing at center ice, with the rink in total darkness. She can’t see anything except the red EXIT signs spaced around the arena. The only sound is the low rustle of spectators shifting on the bleachers. And an errant cough somewhere in the back.
The darkness should be disorienting, like a dream or an out-of-body experience. But it’s not, because she’s holding Chase’s hand, broad and steady under hers.
Nothing about this moment is ordinary. Skating competitions never use dramatic lighting—that’s only for exhibitions like this.
More crucially, every other performance of her life has begun with lonely scrutiny—posing at center ice all by herself, hoping her smile doesn’t look too fake, and trying to remember not to tug at the skirt of her skating costume.
It never starts this way—holding the hand of the most attractive boy she’s ever met, his thumb stroking idly over the back of her hand. As if they were walking casually down the campus path to lunch. And when the spotlight suddenly illuminates the two of them, the smile she’s wearing isn’t fake at all.
Then the first guitar chord reverberates over the sound system, and there’s no more time to think. She squeezes Chase’s hand, and they push off together into a backward crossover, cutting an arc across the surface of the ice.
After three powerful strokes, they drop hands and freeze together in the same position—one leg extended into an arabesque, the other arm tick-tocking with the mournful beat of the music.
Zoe learned a lot creating this program. For example, with just one skater, this opening sequence would be dull. But their natural synchronization elevates the quirky little glide into something much more eye-catching. As the guitar slides into the next chord, they change position, picking up the beat as it ricochets inside her chest.
Pairs skating is much more interesting than Zoe ever thought. The synchrony is a challenge but also a boon. The visual shapes that two people can make are bigger and more interesting than one body alone.
She had no idea.
The vocal line comes in on a haunting baritone. Zoe arcs quickly around Chase, catching him on the other side, their hands joined as they segue into a different, more twisted series of arabesques. The ice is almost shockingly bright in the spotlight’s glare, making it impossible to see anything outside the circular beam.
It feels like one of those sci-fi movies where the astronaut goes winging into the blackness of space. And in practice, Zoe worried that the effect would be too disorienting for Chase, who’d skated only in brightly lit arenas.
“It’s fine,” he said with a shrug of his muscular shoulders. “I’ve got the whole routine memorized based on the hockey markings anyway. We do our first jumps at the blue line, and we do the twisty spiral of doom on the face-off circle.”
So she kept the spotlight, which makes it feel as though the two of them are alone in the world. And they basically are. It’s four minutes of intense collaboration, profound trust, and adrenaline. Changing her angle again, she reaches back for Chase’s hand and finds it waiting for her, his fingers closing reliably over hers.
They straighten into a tango hold, which lasts approximately half a second. But it’s enough time for their gazes to catch. They’re eye to eye for a single beat of her heart, and Chase gives her a hot smile that runs through her veins like honey.
She releases his hand and they each take a stride apart, setting up for the side-by-side camel spins. She can see Chase checking their relative positions so they’ll have enough room to spin without kicking each other in the head. He’s working just as hard as she is, if not harder.