SIX YEARS AGO...
Darren's frozen breaths stain the air before dispersing into nothingness. He clutched the hard white plastic of his hockey stick in his right hand, scanning the indoor ice rink full of people. A clash of differently patterned winter coats and hats, young and old, families and couples fluttered throughout the space.
"I thought you said that the rink would be empty today?" Darren asked his brother, Splinter, his cheeks blushing red from the slight cold.
Splinter shrugged. "I thought it would be. It's Tuesday! Who the hell comes to a skating rink on a Tuesday."
Darren gave his brother a look and gestured between the two of them with the short end of his stick. "Us."
"Oh shut up."
A little over on his left, he spotted a girl seated on the top of the silver bleachers. She had warm brown skin and her dark hair was braided into a long ponytail. She was dressed in a black puffer jacket and light-washed skinny jeans. Her side profile revealed to Darren the unbothered expression she showed the man yelling at her.
A ringing sound disrupted his thoughts. He turned back to Splinter, seeing him wrestle in his deep jacket pockets for his phone. He pulled it out a few seconds later and answered the call. "Hey, Dad...."
Darren zoned him out for the time being, glimpsing back at the girl. The man—possibly her father— was still yelling at her, attracting the attention of a few bystanders yet no one intervened.
Splinter snapped twice in Darren's face to get the attention of his younger brother. "I have to head back home really quick. You wanna stay here or come with me?"
Eyes flickered toward the girl once again, he hands his hockey stick to Splinter and says, "Umm... I think I'm gonna stick around for a while."
"Okay. Let me know if you want me to pick you up. Otherwise, be home before dark," Splinter tells him, ruffling Darren's dirty blond hair.
Darren didn't watch his brother exit the building. Instead, while holding his skates in his hand, he walked closer to the bleachers and finally got an earful of the conversation he had been observing.
"Ivy put on the damn skates. I'm not going to tell you again," the man demands. The veins under his warm sandy skin are bulging, the skin of his neck reddening. The girl— Ivy— doesn't budge. She seemed to be looking past him, her knees perched and her chin rested in her palms uncaring.
When he realizes that Ivy wasn't going to move, he launches the skates at her. Both Darren and Ivy flinch as the skates collide with the metal seat bar below her feet, startling the girl. "God, Ivan! I just wanted to spend time with you and your sister but noooo, you had to be selfish and ruin it for everyone."
Those didn't even have blade covers on them! He could have seriously hurt her, Darren wanted to scream at him so badly that he didn't even notice the name switch. Did anybody see what he did? Why weren't they doing anything about it? He wanted to say something but what could he do? He was just a fifteen-year-old kid, what could he do against a grown man twice his size with obvious rage issues.
"Don't. Call. Me. That," Ivy spits out, slamming her hands beside her. That same anger the man was displaying was wiggling inside her. Darren could see it just from the way she clenched her jaw and gripped the seat. "You're causing a scene. Go skate with Manny before these people get the wrong idea and decide to call the police."
He stares at her for a moment, expression hardened and unwavering. Ivy was the same. A moment later, the man grunted and caved in. He didn't look back as he headed into the ice rink. Ivy sighed and relaxed her perched shoulders. Tired of waiting on the sidelines, Darren took large steps up the bleachers and seated himself a reasonable distance from Ivy.
If she noticed him she didn't indicate it. He waited a few seconds before he spoke. "Hey, are you alright? I saw what happened and I just wanted—"
"I'm fine," Ivy said curtly.
He nodded to himself, pressing his lips in a line. What now? He thought. He got his answer; Ivy was alright and clearly not in the mood for conversation. There was nothing else he needed to know. Yet, a foreign tug in his body told him to stay seated and to keep trying. Keep trying for what? He tried to ask his body. Darren didn't usually spend his time talking to girls, not to say girls didn't try to talk to him. He just didn't have the time to indulge in distractions. But here he was trying to get the attention of the one girl who didn't seem to want it.
Placing his skates on the opposite side of him, he angled his body to face Ivy. He offered a pearly white smile and said, "I'm Darren. I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new to the area? I practice hockey here some time on—"
"The name's Ivy. No, to answer your question. I'm not new and if you are trying to flirt with me, I suggest you take it elsewhere. I'm not interested," she interrupted. Her head turned sharply towards him and her eyes held no hesitation in her words.
What did you expect, dumbass? It's almost like you approached an angry person and expected a different result. Darren's shoulders slumped with his conscience's words. It was a lost cause he decided and there was no use dwelling on it.
Ivy's eyes turned back on the ice, focusing on her father and the little girl whose hand he was holding. Darren bent down to pick up his skates and placed them in his lap. He took the laces of each skate and tied them together. Then he placed the laces on the back of his neck so that both skates were on either side of him. It was a safety issue for sure however the weight of the skates around his neck would comfort the weight of defeat in his chest. Facing forward, he sat there, thinking. He wasn't even in the mood to skate anymore.
It was too late to call Splinter to come to get him. He was most likely halfway home and calling him would only be a hassle. Darren felt in his pocket the cold rectangular plastic of his MetroCard, already despising the long subway ride home. He would much rather have a long talkative car. But that wasn't an option.
He stood slightly hunched from the new weight. Set on leaving before he embarrassed himself further, Darren wanted to say one last thing before he left. He looked at Ivy one more time and said, "As I was saying, I practice here three times a week at four o'clock in case you wanted to learn how to ice skate."
With his hands stuffed in his pocket, Darren descended down the bleachers one bench at a time. And then he walked away.
Darren thought about pulling out his headphone and listening to some music but decided against it, his hand rested against his phone in his left pocket. Before he headed into the vast crowd of incoming people, he turned around to hear Ivy shout his name. She stood up on the bleachers with her hands cupped around her mouth.
"Hey! I never said I couldn't skate!"
He smirked a shy smile, hoping that she could see it. And then he walked into the crowd. This wouldn't be the last time Darren saw Ivy.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Why am I here? Ivy asked herself while she wiggled her frozen, aching toes in her Ugg boot. She had been asking herself that question the whole time back to Sam & Son Ice Rink. The day was Wednesday around 4 p.m., Ivy had just caught the train after the dance class and she was still thinking about the boy she met last week.
A little worm had been nibbling at her conscience for the way she treated Darren. She was usually prickly but she wasn't rude. She wanted to blame her behavior on her father's little tantrum, but to be honest her father, Ivan Sr., mere presence always put a damper on her mood. Why this one boy stood out to her was the second question she found herself having trouble answering this week.
The PrimaLoft material of her coat made a swish sound as she walked. In the rink, a group of teenage boys decked head to toe in hockey gear, huddled together in the center. The closer Ivy got, the more she tried to spot Darren. If she knew his last name then she could figure out which of the bold yellow lettering on the backs of the jerseys belonged to him. Adjusting the strap of her dance bag on her shoulder, she stood in front of the sapphire blue border surrounding the ice.
The boys seem to be close-knit in the way they were laughing and pushing up against one another. Ivy didn't call out for Darren, not wanting to disrupt the small moment. She could wait until he was done and noticed her. Ivy tried not to come across as a creep as she started to get fidgety, glancing everywhere but the boys in front of her.
A few minutes ago and it finally looks like the group is going to disperse. One of the boys locked eyes with Ivy though she couldn't see his face clearly because of his helmet. He smacked the boy next to him, drawing the attention of the others as he nodded his head at her. She gave a short awkward wave with her left hand as they all stared at her. One of them with their back still turned, which read HONEY with the number 12 took off his helmet revealing short cropped dirty blond hair that Ivy recognized immediately. She hated that she remembered his face. She hated that she was here, to begin with. She should be at home studying for an exam she had coming up.
However, something drew her here. Something besides regret.
Darren moved his lips as if he was saying her name. A few of his teammates jokingly shoved at him and the word "girlfriend" was loudly mentioned. He shook them off and skated in Ivy's directions, hockey stick and helmet in hand.
He came up to her with that same goofy grin he had last Tuesday. He had one of those faces that was always smiling. There was not a frown line to be seen. If the two of their faces were masks, Darren could be the smiley face to Ivy's resting bitch face.
He bumped into the waist-high border with such ruff grace it caused Ivy to step back a bit. "You came," he breathed.
"Yeah, you promised skate lessons," she said. She tried not to look directly in his eyes, his dreamy golden brown eyes. She didn't like his eyes staring at her either. Now that she was paying attention, Ivy had come to the conclusion that they had a bad habit of making her smile. "So your last name's really Honey? Like your name is actually Darren Honey?"
He laughed like this was a common occurrence for him. "Yeah, it's because of how subtly sweet I am."
At that Ivy rolled her eyes, suspecting a low-hanging smile developing on her face then twisted into a smirk. "If you're gonna be teaching me then try to keep the cheesy statements to a minimum. Sweet things make me sick."
"Well, that's just cuz you haven't tasted me yet," Darren blurted out. The two of them froze after the words left his mouth. Darren's eyes widened like he was scared he'd said the wrong thing. Ivy let out a low chuckle causing him to exhale with a similar sound. He threw a glance behind and Ivy followed his line of vision. His teammates were watching them and making kissy faces behind his back.
He turned back to face her and leaned on the border, flashing her a toothy grin. He gestured to her bag with his chin and said, "Where are you coming from?"
Ivy pulled the strap higher on her shoulder and smiled. "Dance class. I take ballet."
"A ballerina, huh? That explains the good posture and why you look so elegant."
"You think I'm elegant?" Ivy inquired against her better judgment. She was only here so that karma wouldn't come back and bite her in the ass for the way she treated him. She was trying to resist his charm but it truly didn't help that Darren was incredibly cute. She wasn't oblivious to his flirtations and she quite liked the positive attention.
"Yeah, you kinda remind me of those pretty dancing figurines inside music boxes. Not-not that I think you're an object. I-I was just comparing because of how pretty both—"
Ivy reached a handout and placed it on one of Darren's gloved hands and said, "Darren, it's okay. I see where you were going with that and so I'll take it as a compliment."
He threw a glance behind him once again. He seemed to be eager to return to his friends. I shouldn't have come here, Ivy thought again. The little smile decorating her lips fell as fast as the snow outside. "If you have to go, then you should," she spoke with a harsher tone than before.
Darren looked between his friends who were calling him over and Ivy for the thousandth time. He wanted to stay and continue their conversation but the commitment to his team was stronger. "I do... have to go," he dragged out. Ivy nodded swiftly and moved to walk away. Darren reached out to stop her. "But I wanna keep talking to you... How about we do this? Practice is over at six. If you could wait till then, I could give you lessons after."
The boy looked hopeful which only heated Ivy's brown skin further. Did she really want to wait two hours for him? She barely knew him. Actually, scratch that Ivy didn't know Darren at all. What am I doing? she thought to herself. She stared at him for the longest time, going over the words in her head.
Studies and dance. Studies and dance. Studies and dance. Studies and Darren.
"I guess I could study while I wait for you," Ivy shrugged carelessly while Darren smiled brightly.
"Okay, good. I promise I won't be long," he said excitedly as he skated to where his teammates were standing in front of a tall Black man wearing a navy blue sweatsuit.
Ivy went over to the same bleachers she sat on last Tuesday. Pulling her phone out of her pocket and placing a headphone in each ear, she began to look at the videos her math teacher recommended she watch. Every once in a while she glances up to search for Darren's jersey and sees him running drills across the ice.
In all honesty, she didn't need to be taught how to ice skate. Ivy was an average skater at best. Although there was no harm in perfecting the craft, she had no real interest in taking skating lessons.
But Darren didn't need to know that.