What did he have to do later? I wondered.
“I’ll follow you home then,” he said, sounding just like he always did… without the sarcasm. “If you can manage not to drive like a psycho, that would be nice.”
And there we went.
“I drive the speed limit.”
Those thick, dark eyelashes swung over his eyes. “Is that what you call going ten over?”
I made a face. “I’ve never gotten a ticket.”
“Uh-huh.”
I rolled my eyes and just barely managed not to shoot him a dirty look. “I’ll wait for you by the front doors, sock boy.”
One corner of his mouth twitched… but he dipped his chin.
He blinked at me.
And I blinked right back at him.
Then the other corner of his mouth twitched too.
“You suck,” I said before I could stop myself.
“You suck more,” he replied before starting to skate backward. “Meet you in ten.”
I scrunched up my nose and made my way to get off the ice, getting to the opening at the wall right after Ivan. I put my skate guards on, watching him watch me as I did it, noticing out of my peripheral vision, the families beginning to show up and make their way to the stands.
But we didn’t argue. I took off and headed toward the changing rooms, not wanting to be the last one to the front doors. I’d rather wait for him than him wait for me. It would probably be a good idea to text my mom before I left just so she’d know he was coming.
I hadn’t seen her since the night before when she’d told me about her accident, and even though I wanted to talk to her about what she had implied, I didn’t know what exactly to say. I wasn’t positive what would be more effective than “I love you.”
And she deserved so much more than that.
I rounded the first corner, where Ivan would turn to head to his special room, and headed straight instead. I spotted the two teenage girls standing outside the room immediately. It was the two girls who were always nice to me. Sure enough, just as I approached the door, they turned and gave me two shy smiles.
“Hi, Jasmine,” one of them said while the other one squeaked, “Hi.”
I thought about Ivan’s words the night before and gave them both a little smile as I walked in front of them. “Hi.” My hand went to the door to push it open… and I paused, before saying, “Have a good practice.”
“Thank you!” the outgoing one basically shouted as I went in.
Just like every Saturday night, the changing room was full of teenage girls between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. They were talking so loud it made my ears hurt. I headed to my locker, casting a side glance around to see that they were all familiar faces with no names, and then I turned my back to them. It didn’t take long to open my locker and take my boots off, pull out my bag and set my skates in their protective case before taking my phone out, wiggling my toes and rolling my achy ankles as I unlocked the phone screen.
I found my mom’s name under messages and typed up a text as quickly as I could, making sure my words came out spelled correctly, while trying my best to ignore the girls’ voices.
Bringing Lukov to dinner, I sent her before dropping my phone onto the empty bench beside me.
Pulling my socks off and then my wraps, I felt my phone vibrate and picked it up. It just said OK. ;)
I wasn’t even going to touch that winky face. I set my phone back down and bent over to start going through my bag for my flip-flops when I stopped zoning the girls out for some reason and heard, “…big hands and big feet.”
“How do you know that’s true? There’s a lot of guys with big hands and big feet that don’t have bulges.”
What the fuck were these kids doing talking about bulges?
“Like who?”
“Like…” The girl talking dropped her voice to a whisper, like I still couldn’t hear her after she did it. Idiot. “Ivan Lukov. I’ve never seen anything under his costumes, if you know what I mean.”
The fuck were they bringing up Ivan for? And what were these little perverts even doing staring at his crotch? He’d been 99.99 percent naked in front of me, and I hadn’t looked at it for more than the second it took to see he had it covered.
And why the hell were they bringing up him not having one? That didn’t mean anything. Most guys taped it down, I thought. I’d asked Paul about it once, and he had just turned red and stuttered as he laughed, avoiding the question, like I didn’t know he had a penis under his clothes. Another idiot.
“His hands and his feet are huge,” another girl tried to whisper, but she was even worse at it.
“But has anyone even seen anything?” one little shit asked before giggling.
I spun around on the bench seat as fast as I could and chose my words as best as I could. “Would you stop? You all want some guys talking about your… stuff behind your backs?”
Just like that, they all stopped talking and turned a shade of red that I’d thought only Ruby was capable of.
That’s what I thought.
I made sure to look at each one of them before shaking my head and turning forward again. No one else said anything, and I didn’t worry about them tattling on me, because what were they going to do? Admit they were talking about Ivan’s crotch?
Slipping my flip-flops on and giving my toes another wiggle as I stretched my arches, I snatched up my keys and purse and got up, bending over to grab the handle of my duffel. I side-eyed the girls on the other side of the room who all looked like I’d kicked their puppy, and I didn’t give a shit. I put the lock back on my locker and headed toward the door, yanking the door open a lot rougher than necessary.
God, what was wrong with teenagers? I couldn’t remember talking about people’s dicks when I was their age. Seventeen, okay. But fucking maybe fourteen?
“—ugly and fat in that leotard.”
And there it was.
Children.
Thirteen, maybe fourteen-year-olds standing outside of the door. Two teens that looked a whole hell of a lot like the two that had been talking shit about me weeks ago.
And those two were standing in front of my two girls that always greeted me. The two sweet, but funny little girls that had just been grinning at me maybe five minutes ago but who currently had their backs to the wall and had glassy eyes that looked a whole hell of a lot like they were on the verge of tears.
Damn it.
Why did this have to happen to me?
I wanted to walk away. I really did. I’d already had my beef with these little shits, and I didn’t want to get into it again and risk getting in trouble.
But…
My outgoing little buddy had tears in her eyes, and one of these fuckers had just called her or her friend fat and ugly, and I didn’t play that bully game.
So, I stopped and made eye contact with my two friendly girls, raising an eyebrow. “You two okay?”
The more outgoing one of the two blinked away what had to be tears, and the action instantly made this strange feeling zip up my spine, and I narrowed my eyes as I glanced at the two mean girls that both looked like they regretted the decision they had made while I’d been in the changing room that had led them to this moment.
When neither one of the two nicer girls agreed that they were fine, the feeling in my spine intensified, and I recognized it for what it was: protectiveness. I hated bullies. I really hated bullies.
“Were they picking on you?” I asked slowly, calmly, keeping my focus on the two nice kids.
“We weren’t doing anything,” one of the little shits tried to argue.
I slid my gaze over to the one who had spoken and said, “I wasn’t asking you.” Then turning back to the one with the tears in her eyes, I asked again, “Were they picking on you?”
It took a swallow before I got a nod. From both of them. And that feeling in my spine only got stronger.
I bit the inside of my cheek before I asked, “Are you okay?”
Their little nods almost broke my heart.
But what they did manage to do successfully was focus on the two little shits as my best bitch expression came over my features as I said, slowly, slowly, slowly, wearing that smile that Jojo had called horrifying on more than one occasion, “If I ever, ever hear or see you picking on them—or anybody here—again, I’m going to make you both regret the day you decided to take lessons here, do you understand me?”
Neither one of them nodded or said yes, and that only made the tingle in my spine recharge. A better person would have added some inspirational shit. But that wasn’t me.
I turned my attention to the two nicer girls. “You get picked on again, come tell me, okay? I’ll deal with it for you. Tomorrow, next month or a year from now, don’t be shy, as long as I’m here, I’ll take care of it for you. Nobody deserves to be spoken to like that.”
I would know. I’d been through it enough. In return, I got two blank looks, but whether it was in alarm or what, I had no idea, before both girls nodded, fast, fast, fast.