When I arrive to the rink I have one thing on my mind, return Francesca's stupid money. I get out of the car with money in one hand, skates in the other and march inside. I am 20 minutes early so my plan is to set up before she arrives and then pretend I forgot my water once she starts skating and get off the ice and hide it in her bag while she's skating. I still can't understand what her hang up is with a stupid car ride but I refuse to take her money.
When I open the front doors I can hear Francesca's competition song already blasting through the speakers. I am not completely shocked she beat me today, I could tell on Tuesday her nerves were already starting to build. I walk in and set my stuff down next to hers. From the looks of it she's been here awhile. I take a second to slip the money into her backpack between two pages on her notebook before making my presence known.
"Hey butt," I call out to her, trying to lighten the mood. I can see from her rigid posture that her nerves have her wound up pretty tight. I know the feeling, last year before the Frozen Four Finals I was so tense I thought for sure I was going to puke on the ice.
"Ryder please," she begs, looking completely exhausted. She is covered in sweat as she skates over to the wall and finishes the tiny water left in her clear bottle.
"How long have you been here?"
She pauses the music and looks at the time on her phone. "About an hour and a half."
"I always thought you had class before this." She is always running here with her backpack and I know after this she goes home so I always assumed she was coming here from class.
"I do, I skipped today to get in some more time. Barb and Josh said they had the opening and I figured it would be good to get in a few full outs with the entire ice." I look at my side of the ice expecting to see it covered with holes from her toe pick but it isn't. "At noon I asked them to smooth it out and I put the cones out."
"Oh, thanks," I say, completely shocked she did that and gave up time just so I could have clean ice to skate on. Oh how far we've come since she threatened to kill me that first day. Now we've made it two weeks sharing the ice with minimal incident.
She seems distracted with something on her phone so I put my skates on and step onto the ice. Instead of warming up I grab the empty water Francesca has on the wall. She is still frantically typing away as I skate back off the ice and walk over to the old water fountain to fill it up.
When I return she has set her phone down but hasn't restarted the music. "Here," I shove the water at her. She is still out of breath from when I first walked in, even if she is trying to pretend she isn't in front of me. It is like when you walk up stairs with someone and you're out of breath by try to play it cool, that is the best way to describe her right now.
"You filled my water?"
"I'm not all bad butt," I tease, nudging her a little with my foot.
"Can we go back to Beck? I liked that way better than butt."
I tap my chin as I skate away. "Maybe, not sure yet. I kinda like butt."
"Of course you do," she sighs, putting her water down and restarting the music.
I begin my warmup and the music becomes nothing more than background noise. I tune it out and focus on myself the same way she focuses on herself. Occasionally I peek up to watch her routine. I have watched it in the last two weeks go from just random moves to a full performance. Every time I look up Francesca has ditched another layer. Now all she has left is a sports bra, leggings, and a thin pair of gloves.
It is about 45 minutes into our ice time and I am so focused that when the frustrated yell rings out through the rink, I actually jump in surprise. I turn around quickly to find Francesca sitting on the ice with her face buried in her hands. I step over the cone barrier and skate over to where she is, kneeling down next to her. "What happened, are you ok?"
"I am fine," she chokes out but I know that voice. That is the "if you ask me any more questions I am going to cry and I don't want to cry" voice. I don't push her with more questions but I do put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Let me help you up," I offer once she removes her hands from her face. Her eyes are glassy but no tears have been shed yet.
She doesn't answer me but I stand anyway and reach down for her hand. She takes my hand and I pull her up easily. She is about a foot or so shorter than me and right now standing face to face with her like I am, the height difference is almost comical. She is so small I literally have to look down to speak to her.
"Thank you," she sniffles and I just give her a little nod before going back to my side. I don't want to crowd her or bombard her with questions. If she wants to talk or needs my help I am right here on the other side of the ice. As shy as she can be sometimes, I know she can also be just as outspoken, especially with me.
I go back to my own skating but I keep an eye on Francesca still. When I am stressed I have a team of 29 other guys to lean on, she doesn't have that luxury so if I have to give her one of my great team captain speeches to boost her confidence, I will.
Toward the end of the session I see her fall and hit the ice pretty hard. I am about to go over to her again but she is up and skating again before I can even blink. Falling on the ice hurts and yet she bounced up like she just landed on a pile of clouds, not the unforgiving ice.
When our ice time is up I begin cleaning up the cones but Francesca does not stop. The song ends, she gets back into starting position and then it starts again and she does the whole routine again. Over and over.
I am exhausted just watching her and as the song begins to play once again I finally skate over and turn the music off. "Carson, stop," she yells, stopping mid performance. "Turn it back on."
"You're done for the day. You have been practicing for over 2 hours, that is enough."
"It isn't perfect yet. Please just turn the music back on." She is pushing herself too far and her breaking point is sitting just below the surface. I know what that is like, the sick fixation on being perfect. You will never be perfect and practicing until you are just leads to burnout.
"One more time, I swear I will stop after this."
"Fine, I will play the song one more time but after that if you don't stop I will drag out off the ice."
I am not even joking and Francesca must sense that because she just nods. "Use the entire ice and I will judge you like this is actually competition."
I get off the ice so she has room and once she gives me a thumbs up I start the music from the beginning one final time. She takes off with the song and I watch trying to be as critical as possible with my little ice skating knowledge. Placating her with that was amazing or it was perfect when she finished is not going to help her. When she stops and bows I quickly pause the music before she can start again.
"Off," I tell her sternly and for once she doesn't fight me, probably because she has no fight left.
"So?"
"You were a little off beat at the end but I think that is just because you're tired, you're slower after two hours of practice."
"Anything else?"
"Um I don't really know much so no, it looked good otherwise. You were right about it being fast. I have never seen a routine like that in like the Olympics but I think that is good. Give the judges something different."
"Thanks," she mumbles and I hand her back her phone. She opens it and begins once again frantically typing. "Fuck me," she whispers under her breath and I steal a glance as the tears begin to well up in her eyes.
"Can I help," I offer even though I know the answer is likely no.
"It is just costume stuff, I am borrowing mine and it doesn't," she stops herself mid sentence and shakes her head. "You don't care about costumes, sorry."
"Actually, I love costumes so fuck you Beck; now tell me."
For the first time today I get a genuine laugh out of her. "My roommate is altering mine and she messed up a little. Nothing major but it is right at the front so it will be noticeable to judges."
"The judges are guys, right? Just call the perverts for looking if they say something."
"Ryder," she laughs, this time even snorting she's laughing so hard. "That isn't how any of that works but thanks."
"Anytime Beck."
"Oh so Beck is back?"
"As long as you stop calling me Carson it is."
"Deal," she says reaching out her hand. "Truce, I call you Ryder and you call me Beck or if you want to be real nice my actual name."
"I will stick with Beck," I tell her while shaking her hand.
"Figured."
We both pack up and drop the cones in the office, which is empty, before leaving. "Need a ride?"
"I have one but thanks."
As she is thanking me a car pulls up and I see a guy in the back seat tackle some girl sitting next to him. I can see them fighting like two cats in the back seat but Francesca seems totally unfazed. "Anyways, thank you for today Ryder."
"Of course, you're going to kill it this weekend Beck. I am sure of it."
"You will too, Minnesota got nothing on your guys! Go Blue!" With that she turns around, jumps into the car and also begins fighting the girl in the middle seat. I am not sure what exactly is going on, the middle seat girl seems really determined but the guy and Francesca seem to be winning.
I adjust my hat as they pull away, the middle seat girl banging on the back window as they drive off. The last minute may go down as the weirdest minute of my life. Not only from the weird little fight but also because Francesca Beckett apparently follows the hockey team enough to know who we are playing this weekend. That was definitely an unexpected twist.
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Authors note
Happy Friday enjoy the surprise chapter! Hope you all are loving Fran and Ryder so far, I know I am really loving writing them!