The Hat Trick (ON HOLD AS OF 2/17/16)

Chapter Eleven: Bailey

I looked back at the entrance the glass doors proving that I was the only one here. How could I have not noticed that there wasn't a single car in the parking lot? Maybe because you were too afraid about meeting Dill here to notice anything relevant, a serial killer could have escorted you to the door and you wouldn't have paid him any mind. Great sensory skills B, just great.

Wow, my inner voice can be such a bitch.

Straightening my spine I continued my walk to the ice, figuring that if a crazed killer was going to off me he would have done so by now. Yeah that made sense, of course in every horror film I’ve ever the seen the killer always has a flare for the dramatics so he could be toying with me. Jeezum my imagination sucks.

Stepping up to the two hundred foot ice rink, I pressed my face up against the glass inhaling just slightly, for some weird unexplainable reason I loved the smell of the ice. I can't even describe the smell but it just smelled like—like home which is even weirder. The ice must have just been smoothed over by the Zamboni because it had a beautifully glossy sheen. 

I've never been ice skating before and I'm pretty sure I would suck at it but I loved coming down here whenever the boys practiced. I envied their grace and speed on the ice, but I know that it wasn't as easy as it looked and that's probably the main reason why I never tried to ice skate that and I hated looking like a fool.

I closed my eyes breathing in the crispness from the ice; the chill of the ice was comforting compared to the chill from outside. All my unease about fake serial killers and just this “thing” with Dill in general seemed to melt away, no pun intended.

"You made it," that was definitely a weird thing for a serial killer to say but maybe he was changing things up.

I spun around a startled gasp caught in my throat as I swung out with my left fist. My wrist was easily caught before it had a chance to meet the jaw of my now captor. I looked up readying to scream bloody freaking murder, even though there was no one around to hear me, I was going to belt it out. But as I looked up I was instantly greeted with ice blue eyes that belonged to none other than Dill himself.

Everything within me deflated once I realized it was him; a small whimpering sound came from the back of my throat as I wrapped my arms around Dill burying my face against his chest, the smell of sandalwood and soap taking over my senses. He didn’t respond at first, how could he with the awkward situation I just put him in? First by trying to punch him and now I’m hugging him to death. He didn’t seem to mind the embrace though with one arm securely wrapped around my waist and the other cupped the back of my head fingers getting tangled in my loose braid. If anything he was quite partial to my being in his arms. I might have imagined what happened next, just to add to my humiliation some more, but I felt his lips chastely press a kiss to the top of my head.

“Scaring you wasn’t my intention,” he chuckled, the hand at my waist moved to the center of my back moving in slow circles. I could have stayed there forever, but that would have meant I’d have to read into the meaning behind why it felt so good to be in his arms, with his breath tickling my ear as he talked to me in softened tones and that wasn’t something I wanted to do right now or ever in fact.

So I pulled away first, a small microscopic part of me wanted to reject before I became the rejected, that part of me I liked to keep hidden away because she was embarrassing and a let down to the almighty powerful feminist I claim myself to be.

Of course as I did the warmth his arms had enveloped around me seeped out from my bones and I was reminded why I was here with him in the first place. I felt my cheeks warm with humiliation as I tried desperately to not look at him, I could see the look he’d give me in my mind and it was enough of a vivid description to not need the real thing.