Nola Scott
Getting back on track has been rough, but after two weeks, I think I'm finally starting to do it. I'm not being too hard on myself and only doing things that I want to do. One of the things I've been wanting to do more than usual is get back on the ice. Competitions are coming up soon and I've been focusing on perfecting my routine nonstop.
My jumps are a lot higher. My technique is cleaner and my dancing is sharp. Being proud of myself is pushing it but I am liking where I'm at. It's been a while since I've felt whole and I think it's slowly happening again. I try not to think about it too much just because I don't want to jinx anything but I'm getting back to who I want to be and it's exciting.
After my third solo practice this week at Blazing Ice, I wipe some sweat beads off my forehead. The rink opens in fifteen and I'm making my way out before practices start. Slipping off my skates, I put the cover over the blades, placing them in my backpack.
"Nola! How was your practice, honey?" Claire shouts as she walks over to me from her office. "Great, Claire. Thank you again for letting me use the rink this week. I hope I'm not asking for too much," I say. She shakes her head and sits down next to me. "Nonsense, darling. My ice is your ice." She smiles sweetly at me and I return it, picking my stuff off the ground. "Thank you," I say again.
"Before you go, I had a question I wanted to ask you. Now, this is absolutely no pressure, I promise my ice will still be your ice even if you decline my offer," Claire starts, catching my attention. We both stand up from the bench and I sling my backpack over my shoulder. "What is it?" I question.
"My husband and I are having a small, two-day clinic for boys and girls ages 5-12 who want to learn how to ice skate. We were wondering if you could be one of the instructors? I already asked my nephew to be the other but we'd really appreciate having both a male and female instructor. John and I thought you'd be the perfect person to ask. Again, if you're too busy, I know competition season is looming, it's perfectly fine!" Claire explains.
Although I heard her thoroughly, one specific detail caught my attention. "Your nephew...Miles?" I ask. Curiosity infiltrates my mind. Claire's smile grows. "Yes! You remember him, don't you?" Oh, I remember him alright. "I do! He's going to be the other instructor?" I ask. She nods. "Luckily, we caught him at a good time. He won't have another game for a couple of days so he's going to help us out."
Interesting.
"I'd love to, Claire. Count me in." I give her a firm nod. Her face lights up and she smiles, pulling me in for a hug. "Thank you so much, Nola!" I giggle, rubbing her back. "Of course. I've always wanted to instruct a class and it'd look good on my resume for the Honors program!" We both pull away from the hug and Claire rubs my arm. "The classes are Wednesday and Thursday from 9-12. I know that's the day after tomorrow but do you think it'll work well with your schedule?"
I nod. "It's winter break so I'm free almost all the time. I'll be here," I assure. "Amazing! Thank you again, honey. I'll see you on Wednesday then? Tell your momma and daddy hi for me, will you? It's been a while," Claire says. "Of course. I'll see you then!" Claire and I say our goodbyes and I'm out of Blazing Ice as people start filing in. Hopping inside my Rover, I decide to go back to Los Angeles instead of over to Oak Hill like I originally planned.
That week I spent there at the beginning of break was enough and my parents haven't nagged me enough to come back yet. Opening Instagram, I scroll for a little bit catching up on commenting on some friends' posts. It's been a while since I've opened the app just because I've been limiting my screen time. Pressing my notifications, my stomach backflips at an unexpected sight.
milesdempsey started following you.
When I stupidly decided to follow him about a week ago, I didn't think he would see my request let alone follow me back. I don't know why I even followed him in the first place. That night after Frankie's event, I went home and thought about the way our conversation went. It was calm, mutual, and nothing like our other interactions.
Searching him up on Instagram was all that was supposed to happen but after stalking his ten pictures, I decided to hit follow. Why not? We're not friends, but we're not strangers. We're acquaintances. More than half of my Instagram followers are acquaintances. Seeing his name in my notification tab is weird and very unexpected.
Maybe now things will be a little less weird. Although I never expected to talk to the guy again, I guess we have to since we're co-instructing a class together. I wonder if Claire told him she was going to ask me to be the other instructor. Trying not to think too much about the situation, I start my Rover and drive back home.
The next two days will be quite interesting if I do say so myself.
***
On Wednesday, I woke up bright and early at six in the morning. I packed my bag and decided to grab a coffee from Renaissance Café before hitting the road. The place was empty when I got there unsurprisingly since it was very early in the day. The sun wasn't out and even though it was a weekday, not too many cars filled the street yet.
It only took forty-five minutes for me to arrive at Blazing Ice from Los Angeles when it usually takes me about an hour. It's only 8:30 meaning I have thirty minutes to kill before classes start. The parking lot is almost empty with the exception of my car, Claire's, and a white BMW. I'm sure that belongs to Miles. While the rink opens earlier, Claire closed down the rink for the next two days for these classes.
I grab my duffel bag from the backseat and my new iced coffee that I stopped for at Starbucks before getting here. Grabbing my phone with my free hand, I shoot Claire a text telling her I'm here. She immediately responds with a thumbs up and I wait for her to open the doors for me. After about a minute, the door swings open but it's not Claire. It's him. Miles.
A smirk crawls onto his lips. "Nice to see you again, Scott. Thought I wouldn't." I roll my eyes at his comment as I walk past him and inside the building. No, I'm not going to be an asshat to him anymore but his little comment was not funny. "Good morning to you too, Miles," I return before walking over to Claire's office. "Nola! Great, you made it! I'm busy making sure every kid's paperwork is filled out by their parents so I was wondering if you and Miles could get everything set up? He already knows what to do," Claire says.
I nod. "Got it." Leaving my purse in there, I walk back out while Miles holds the door open for me. I let him walk next to me, feeling awkward walking in front of him. "So, what are we doing?" I question. "You followed me on Instagram," Miles replies. I stop abruptly, causing him to do the same. He wears that stupid smirk on his face again. "Really? Are you trying to bother me again?" I ask.
He chuckles. "What? I'm just stating a fact," he replies with a shrug. I narrow my eyes and continue walking. Dropping my stuff next to one of the benches, I look back up at him. He stands in front of me with his arms crossed over his chest. The black LA Kings dry-fit shirt he's wearing sculpts his arms and chest in a very attractive way. God, why am I attracted to men?
Looking away, I unzip my bag and pull out my skates. "You're welcome. I gave you another follower," I say. "Well, thank you, but I already have 3 million of them so yours doesn't make much of a difference," he says cooly. My mouth gapes open and I look up at him. "Asshole. I will remove that follow, don't test me!" I snare. He laughs, shaking his head. "C'mon, Scott. We got stuff to do before the kiddos get here."
Miles walks past me, his cologne slapping me in the face as he does. Oh god, stop it, Nola. "You coming?" Miles says, unlocking the storage room. I walk quickly toward him, holding the door when he opens it. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens the notes app. "Here, these are all the sizes of skates we're gonna be using today. We need to get them all out so we can start handing them out when they arrive," Miles explains. "You do girls, I'll do boys."
I nod, staring at his phone for a while to memorize a couple of the sizes. The two of us start pulling out skates in silence, placing them outside of the storage room. Miles pulls out his phone every now and then to let me see the sizes and we finish the task in about five minutes. He closes that storage room and moves on to the next. "We're gonna pull out a good ten trainers and then some helmets and some knee and elbow pads for the parents who want a little extra care," Miles says.
He unlocks the next room and I work on getting the trainers while he collects helmets. Pushing the trainers out near the rink, I come back and get the knee and elbow pads. It doesn't take us long to do this either and after, we focus on separating them. "Ready?" Miles asks me once the first parent walks in with their kid. "Heck yeah," I say with a smile. I'm actually excited about being able to teach kids something I love. While it's not exactly figure skating, maybe one day they can get there.
As kids pile in, both Miles and I greet them and their parents as Claire and John focus on telling them about everything going on today. Once they've done that, Miles and I lead them over to all the equipment, helping the kids and their parents put on ice skates. We don't separate between girls and boys, teaching the class together.
I grab a six-year-old named Eva's hand. Her mom told me that she's skated before but just has trouble keeping her balance. We use trainers for those who are beginners so I let Eva hold onto me as we skate around at her pace. "Good job, Eva!" I praise her as we've skated for around three minutes without her stumbling a bit.
She smiles up at me and I slowly start letting go of her hand. I make sure to stay close behind her as she skates on her own now. Tumbling lightly, she catches herself and keeps going. "Nice save," I say. I make sure she doesn't get close to any other new skaters, passing by a couple of other students. Miles taps me and I turn. He gives me a thumbs-up and a wink. Thanks, I mouth.
We reach the far right of the rink again and Eva slows herself, grabbing onto the railing. "I did it, Nola! Did you see?" she exclaims, pushing back some red baby hairs. "I told you you'd get it before the day ended!" I hold up a hand for a high five and she slaps her hand against mine. "You want to practice on your own for a bit while I help out other students? If you need anything just call me over." Eva nods and I give her a thumbs up before finding another struggling student.
"You got this, buddy. Come on." Miles picks up a four-year-old boy from his armpits as he falls on his butt again. The little blonde boy grabs onto the trainer in front of him and skates close by. Miles helps out a couple of other kiddos around him and I look around trying to find one for myself. I see a blonde in the corner struggling to keep his balance so I skate over to help him.
Catching his arm before he falls, I hold him upright. "Try bending your knees a little bit and digging into the ice," I tell him. His face flushes a light pink color. "Sorry, I'm really trying. My family is more of a football family but I like hockey," he says. I give him a lighthearted chuckle. "Don't worry, same here. My brothers are all about field sports but I live on the ice. You'll get it. What's your name?" I ask.
He nods, "Ryle." I haven't heard that name in a while. "Nice to meet you, Ryle. I'm Nola!" I introduce myself, hoping to get him a little bit more comfortable. "You too," he says quietly. I grab his hand and put it on the railing. "Hold on if you need to," I start, "let me give you some tips for your balance." I give Ryle some pointers on perfecting his balance on the ice as well as things not to do. It takes him some time, but I see his confidence start to grow little by little.
Kids start skating off the ice and Miles is handing back the younger ones to their parents. "Hey, you got this! We'll work on polishing things up tomorrow, yeah? You're coming back right?" I nudge him slightly. He blushes and nods. "Yes, I will. Thank you, Nola. You helped me a lot." I smile. Those words are sure sweet to hear. "Of course. It's what I'm here for. I'll see you tomorrow, Ryle." He skates the short distance off the ice and waves back at me.
I talk to a couple of the parents who ask me questions about their kids and then wave off the little ones as they leave. Once the rink is empty, I close the door and lock it for the day. Claire and John left about an hour ago to run some errands so it's just Miles and I left to pick up the rink.
"Nice work today, Scott," Miles says behind me. I hand him the key and sigh. "I loved doing this but I'm glad I'm studying business," I say honestly. He chuckles, "Working with kids can be frustrating but seeing smiling faces is my favorite reward. It's not all that bad." I smile at his words. Seeing Eva and Ryle smiling in the end was nice.
"You're right. Let's clean this mess up and get ready for tomorrow?" I ask. Miles nods and starts walking back to where the kids took off their equipment. We sit down on the ground, trying to find matching skates to put away in their boxes. It's quiet for a little before Miles speaks first.
"I heard your pops is helping JT out with real estate next year. Is that what he does? Sell real estate, I mean. Your house is a fucking mansion," he says. I tilt my head to the side a bit. "My house is big but it's not a mansion. And yes, he runs his own company. Old man knows what he's doing," I reply with a smile. My dad has done a great job at making his company as successful as it is. He's worked his ass off for years for what he has. For what we have. I'm proud of him.
"It's really nice. What does your mom do?" he asks another question. "So interested in my life, Dempsey?" I tease, eyebrow raised. He shrugs, shoving a pair of skates in a box. "Just trying to make conversation, Scott." Right. "She's a pharmacologist," I answer his question. "Oh, nice. Are you interested in either of those things or are you going to school for something else?" he asks another question.
I eye him wearily but he's too focused on putting skates away. "I suck at anything math and science so pharmacology is out of the question. My dad's company is cool and all but I'm not sure I want to sell real estate either," I admit. I wish I could say that I have a job I want planned out but that would be a lie.
Business is my choice of major because the only interesting thing to me right now is potentially owning my own business one day. I also have a stupid dream of wanting to go to the Olympics and become a professional athlete but that's a bigger thing. Owning a business sounds more realistic.
"You have time to figure it out. Don't stress out about it," Miles says. I nod, agreeing. "What about you? Did you go to college? I don't know how getting into the NHL works," I ask him. "You don't need to go to college to be drafted but I did," he shrugs, "only for a year, though. I wanted to get my degree regardless so I finished school online when I got drafted," Miles tells me.
"Wow, really? Where did you go to school and what did you get your degree in?" I question. "Harvard and I got my bachelors in kinesiology," he says. My eyes widen. Harvard? God, if I decided to go to an Ivy League school, Harvard would have been it. I didn't apply because I didn't think I'd be able to get in. "Taken aback, Scott? You still think I'm just a big himbo who plays hockey?" he adds.
"What was your GPA? Scratch that, what the hell did you write in your paper that got you in?" I probed. He chuckles. "4.0. You're looking at Madden High Schools' valedictorian. Also, I'm in hockey, remember? Harvards a big hockey school. My essay was mainly about hockey and being adopted and how they affected and impacted my life. You know all that bullshit," he explains.
Wait... what?
"You're adopted?" I ask. I see Miles freeze up a bit. He stuffs another pair of skates into a box. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, I thought you knew," he says, not making eye contact. I had no fucking clue. Miles being Claire's nephew just became news to me when I met him. Also just because we had this whole weird relationship doesn't mean I searched the guy up and learned all about his life. "No, I didn't," is all I say.
I've never met anyone who was adopted. What do I even say?
"Well, I am. I guess it gave me cred with Harvard's admissions office. That or it was just me being a good hockey player," he chuckles. "How'd you do in high school?" I shake his confession away for a second to answer his question. "Well, same as you I guess. Valedictorian and 4.0. Except I wasn't bold enough to apply to the Ivy Leagues. I just kept close to home." I shrug.
Miles finally looks up, leaning back on his elbows as he stops putting the skates away. "UCLA is tough to get into. JT said the acceptance rate is like ten percent? You fucking did that," Miles says. I can't help but smile. I've always been proud of being a good student and being praised for it only makes me happier about my success. School isn't always easy but I try my best.
"Thanks." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "It was one of the best colleges that was close to home but also far enough from it," I say. Miles nods, taking a break from trying to look for skates. "Oak Hill, right? I'd never been there until I drove JT over to your place to meet up with his partner." That's right. I almost forget that my parents live in Oak Hill. I guess Los Angeles doesn't feel as far away from home as I used to think it did.
"Yeah. It's a nice city but I needed a little bit of freedom. Also, I got onto the figure skating team I'm in. We compete at bigger competitions than the ones my old team competed in," I say. "What does bigger competitions mean?" he asks. Gosh. Don't embarrass yourself, Nola. I busy myself by looking for pairs of skates instead of looking at him. "You know, like, more competitive teams. Bigger opportunities to succeed and further my...talent."
Miles throws me the skate I was looking for. "When you say further your talent, do you mean professionally? You want to get on the big stage, eh?" After slowly putting the skates away, I look back up. His gray eyes observe me with curiosity. "Kind of," I stammer, voice low. "There's nothing embarrassing about wanting to go to the Olympics, Nola. Hell, I would too if I could. Representing Canada would be a dream," Miles says cooly.
I study his expression, trying to find any hint that he's fucking with me. "Really?" The question comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. "Oh, yeah. Hey, a reward never falls short of hard work. If you really want to, you can get there. Just don't give up on your dream. Even when people tell you to," Miles declares. A small smile plays on my lips.
Telling people I want to go to the Olympics isn't something I typically do. Especially since no one gets just how much I want it to happen. Also because people tell me I won't be able to. It's hard to believe in yourself when others don't.
"Is that how you got to where you are now? Didn't give up even when people told you to?" I ask. Miles smiles a bit and nods. "Exactly, Scott. As long as you have a couple of people there to support your dream - even one person - that's all you need. My folks believed in me more than I believed in myself. Look at me now. I got it all and more," he brags.
As much as I hate to say it, I still do. "You're talented, though. I don't know if I have what it takes," I admit. Miles makes a face, brows furrowed. "Don't give me that shit. I've seen you. The first day we met. You were too zoned out doing your thing to notice me but I saw you. You're great. My aunt is always talking about how good you are too," Miles tells me. My stomach flutters with something unfamiliar.
Still, I shake my head. "It takes a lot more than the talent I have to make it on the team. Some things are just meant to be dreams, not reality," I sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I begin to put away skates again. My skin burns with hurt as I tear myself down. I hate doing it but sometimes I know I have to accept reality. This is sadly mine.
"I haven't always been this good at hockey, Scott. It took me years to perfect every skill I have. Even still, I fuck up on the ice. There's always room for improvement but that doesn't make you not good enough. Like I said, put your mind to it, find your support system, and work hard. If you really want it, it'll happen. Remember, I speak from experience," Miles boasts.
My eyes soften a fraction at his words. No one's ever kept pushing me like this. Especially when all I do is degrade myself. A month ago, I would have never thought Miles Dempsey would be the one who would change my mind about giving up on the Olympics. My heart starts racing faster in my chest and I start thinking about all the possibilities that could be.
I can be an Olympian. I can.
"Thanks," I say, barely audible. "Don't thank me. Just do it. Believe in yourself, Nola," Miles adds. All different types of emotions build inside of me. I nod my head a couple of times before smiling. "You know," I start, finding another pair of matching skates. "Maybe I misread you, Dempsey." I look up and Miles stares at me with a raised brow. "Oh?" Chuckling, I throw him a matching pair of skates to put away. "You're not all that bad, I guess."
Miles chuckles, shoving the last pair of skates into their respective box. "You know what, Scott? I'll take that over your petty jabs any day." I smile. "Yeah. Just don't upset me again," I tease, pointing a finger in his direction. He holds his hands up in defense. "Yes ma'am."