Paint The Ice

Chapter 36

"Thank you."Tommy said and he peeped over for one second.

I smiled, and moved my arms to my pockets. "No problem. You're going to be out very soon and when winter's over, you can ride bikes."

His tiny voice asked. "Do you have one?"

I shook my head. "No. But I've always wanted one when I was younger. I thought they were so cool."

"They are cool."

Then I left.

I snap out of the memory floating in my head. Asher never left though so I'm taken aback that he's getting on the ice right now.

The next thing I know to do is finish my bagel and get dressed. Five minutes later, I'm leaving my apartment to take on the cold. Snow crunches underneath my thick boots with every step I take. The air numbs my cheeks, I could feel all my pores accepting the environment. It's hard to see. I manage and power through to the rink.

Asher's on the ice and I'm behind the plexiglass. He's so focused on what he's doing, he doesn't notice me. His skates carve deep into the ice every time he glides. He's precise and smooth, charismatic to the point it's floating off his body even when he's the only one on the ice.

I know exactly what he's doing. I can relate. Because art to me is exactly what hockey is to him. This rink. His team. It was everything.

When he finally looks my way, I throw an arm up and wave. "Is everything okay?"

I watch him nod, helmet on.

I squint my eyes, curious. "And Tommy's fine?"
I'd like to think he would've told me but I'm asking anyway.

Asher takes the helmet off, his gloves follow next and then he runs a few fingers through his hair and skates towards me. We meet, nearly colliding into each other and he quickly says, "Hey baby,"He leans in and gives me a peck right on the lips to greet me properly. "He's fine. I'm just clearing my head."

I stare into his eyes. Searching for something. "How's it working for you?"

"Better now that you're here. Did you walk all the way?"He moves the hockey stick on the floor like he's padding almost.

I decided against going about it with a smart mouth. Instead, I say, "Yup, it's fucking freezing."Exhaling deeply, I add. "Hey, you know you can talk to me, right?"

He smiles, it's soft. Tiny. "I am talking to you."

I tilt my head to the side. "Are you really?" I think he knows exactly what I mean.

His fingers brush my right cheekbone. "Yeah, I'm fine. Really. You're not worried about me, are you? If you are, don't be."

I scan his face for a second. "Okay. I just think you barely slept. I know I'm up early too but you, you haven't closed your eyes once. You don't have to be strong or tough. Not with me and I know silence is good and we understand that but I still want you to talk to me if you need to."

Big hands cup my cheeks. "It's your big day." He reminds me. "I want to see everything you made me clean the studio for."My mouth puckers from the impact on his hands moving into my cool cheeks and he dips his head and kisses me. "Stop worrying your pretty little head."He whispers against my lips before he pulls away and ruffles my hair in a playful way.

"Fine." I lick my lips and grab unto his hockey stick. "And you will see what I've worked on but I don't want you to think it's anything extravagant. It isn't anything to gasp over."I warn him, pointing the stick at him.

"Shhh."He demonstrates with his index finger. "Stop being negative. If your art is being showcased, I'm sure it is. Now what should I wear?"

"Okay! Okay!" I laugh, resisting the urge in my body to push him. "And anything you want to wear, you should wear. It's not tea with the royal family Humphrey."I glance at the rink before meeting his eyes again. "How long have you been skating before you texted me?"