“Shut up. I don’t like ice, OK? Hold my hand.”
He took my hand again and executed some slick little turn so he was facing me. Picking up my other hand, he said, “Put your skates a little closer together. Good. Now, push the right one out. No, don’t pick it up—push it out.”
I tried again. “Like that?”
“Yes, good. Now the other side.”
I pushed my left skate out. “Am I supposed to stay in plié the entire time?”
“What the fuck is a plié?”
“Do I keep my knees bent?”
“Oh. Then yes, you do. The entire time. That gives you more stability.”
I tried again and stumbled a little bit when my right skate got away from me, grasping his hands for dear life.
“You have to keep your toes forward, not out to the side.”
“Sorry. Too much ballet.” I concentrated on keeping my knees bent, legs and feet parallel, and pushed each foot out to the side again. “Like that?”
“Yes.” Charlie looked down at my feet. “Your ankles aren’t wobbly. That’s good.”
“Thanks.” I laughed, slowly getting the hang of it. “As long as you don’t let me go, I think I can manage not to embarrass myself too badly.”
“I won’t let you go. For at least five minutes,” he teased.
We spent about an hour on the ice, and I only fell once—right on my tailbone when some insane kid skating way too fast got way too close and I attempted to dash sideways to stay out of his way. Charlie helped me up and brushed off my butt, assuring me that falling on my ass was much less embarrassing than falling on my face. “It’s only like a seven on the humiliation scale,” he said. “And I’m sure those people over there aren’t laughing at you.”
Oh, Jesus. Well, at least he was touching my butt. And was his hand lingering a little longer than necessary? Maybe I could give seduction one more shot—off this damn ice. On my feet again, I gave Charlie a plaintive look. “Can we please be done now? I want my hot chocolate.”
He tugged my slouchy knit hat down lower on my head. “You’re hopeless. Good thing you’re adorable.”
“You’re mean. Good thing you have a big dick.”
Charlie looked surprised for a second, and I panicked I’d gone too far. But then he grinned and took my hand. “Come on, let’s go. You earned your hot chocolate.” He pulled me over to the side and I managed to get off the ice without falling. We swapped our skates for shoes, and I was never so grateful to feel the ground under my boots. Carrying our skates, we walked over to the Urban Bean Co. on Griswold and Grand River, where I ordered a specialty hot chocolate that had banana and coconut in it. Charlie rolled his eyes and ordered plain old coffee.
We sat at a table by the window, and I pulled off my gloves and hat. Charlie’s ears were red from the cold. “You should wear a hat,” I told him.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“OK, fine. Don’t wear a hat. Have cold ears.”
“It’s not even that cold out.”
“Are you kidding? It’s like thirty! That’s freezing.” I touched my nose. “My nose is frozen. I can’t even feel it.”
“It’s red, too. You look like Rudolph.”
I frowned. Rudolph was not sexy. “Thanks. So what are you doing for Christmas? Heading back to Iowa?”
He looked out the window. “Not sure yet. I’d like to see my folks, but I have to work quite a bit too. I think I have Christmas Eve off, but not Christmas Day.”
“Oh. That stinks.” I blew on my hot chocolate to cool it off. “Will you spend Christmas Eve with your grandfather then?”
He shrugged and picked up his coffee. “Maybe.” Something was odd about the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes, but I dismissed it. Maybe he was one of those people who didn’t like the holidays because they were too Hallmark touchy-feely. “What about you?” he asked.
“We usually go to my mom’s for dinner and then go to midnight mass somewhere.”
He smiled. “Ah, yes. Midnight mass. When people who ignore Jesus throughout the year dress up, fight for parking spots, elbow for pew space and face time with the priest, and mumble their way through the prayers they barely remember from last year. Or from Easter.”
I shrugged. “Pretty much. But it’s important to my mom, so we go. Hey, thank you for the skates. My first Christmas gift this year.”
“You’re welcome. They felt OK?”
“Yes. And skating wasn’t even that horrible.” I took a tiny sip of my drink. “Actually, it was almost fun.” Know what else is fun?
“See? You’re broadening your horizons.”
“Yes. Just like you’re going to broaden yours at the ballet.” The idea had come to me while we were skating.
“What ballet?”
“The one I’m going to take you to. The Nutcracker.”
He nearly choked. “The whatcracker?”
At his look of dismay, I leaned forward and pointed at him. “Listen, pal, you’re lucky I’m not going to make you take a ballet class after you made me take a public skating lesson. How’d you like a pair of ballet slippers for Christmas?”
He held up his hands. “Fine. I’ll go to the ballet. Is it in English?”
“There’s no talking in ballet.”