The Christmas Contract

Blades and Blunders

The cold bit through my wool coat the moment we stepped out of the cab at Rockefeller Center. Before us, the famous golden statue gleamed under the afternoon winter sun, and below, the ice rink swirled with a chaotic ballet of skaters. The sound of laughter, Christmas music, and scraping blades filled the frosty air.I swallowed hard, my gloved fingers tightening around the railing. “I feel like this is a metaphor waiting to happen.”Derek stood beside me, a picture of relaxed confidence in his leather jacket and dark jeans. He held two pairs of rented skates. “It’s a date, Chen. Not a thesis. Relax.”“Says the man who probably played hockey in a past life,” I muttered, eyeing the skates he handed me like they were instruments of torture.“Lacrosse, actually. But the same principle.” He grinned, that infuriating, charming grin. “Balance, momentum, and not overthinking it.”We found a bench. He knelt to help me with my skates before I could protest, his fingers quick and sure on the laces. The gesture was so similar to the gala—this attentive, practiced care—that it stole my breath. He was becoming increasingly skilled at playing the role of a boyfriend. Or maybe he wasn’t acting at all.Once laced, he pulled me to my feet. My ankles immediately betrayed me, buckling inward. I gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders for dear life.“Whoa, I’ve got you.” His hands settled firmly on my waist, holding me upright. His touch burned through the layers of clothing. “Just stand for a sec. Get your ice legs.”“I don’t have nice legs,” I hissed, my entire body rigid with panic.“You do now.” His voice was calm, close to my ear. “Trust me.”That phrase again. Trust me. It was becoming a mantra, and each time he said it, slightly more of my resistance crumbled.He guided me to the entrance of the rink. Stepping onto the ice was like stepping onto a frozen lake of pure terror. My blades slipped, and I let out a squeak, throwing my arms around his neck in a death grip.He chuckled, the sound a warm vibration against my chilled cheek. His arms came around me, holding me steady until my heart stopped trying to escape my ribs. “Breathe, Maya. I’m not letting go.”And he didn’t. For the first ten minutes, he essentially carried me. One of his hands held mine; the other was a solid bar across my lower back. We moved in a slow, shuffling orbit around the outer edge of the rink. My movements were jerky and terrified; his were smooth and effortlessly strong.“See? You’re skating,” he said, a smile in his voice.“You’re skating. I’m expensive, panicked baggage.”“The most elegant baggage on the ice.”Despite myself, a laugh bubbled out. The winter sun caught his smile, and for a moment, the fear receded. There was just the crisp air, the cheery music, and the feeling of being utterly and completely supported. I slowly relaxed into his hold, my death grip loosening to a real hold. I began to move my feet, tentatively pushing and gliding.“There you go,” he encouraged, his hand squeezing mine. “Natural.”I wasn’t. But with him, I felt… safe enough to be bad at something. It was a foreign, liberating feeling.That’s when it happened. A group of kids playing tag whizzed past us, a blur of colorful jackets. The sudden gust of wind and spray of ice shavings startled me. My left foot slid out from under me.A scream caught in my throat as the world tilted.But Derek was faster. In a flash, he pulled me hard against his chest, spinning so his back took the brunt of the impact. We landed in a heap against the rink’s padded board with a soft thud, with him cushioning my fall completely.For a heartbeat, there was silence. I was sprawled on top of him, my hands braced on his chest, his arms locked around me. Our faces were inches apart. His breath fanned my lips, coming in quick, white puffs in the cold air. His green eyes were wide, searching mine, full of a concern that felt far deeper than this little fall warranted.“Are you okay?” he breathed, his voice rough.I could only nod, mesmerized. The world had narrowed to this pocket of cold air and shared warmth. The sounds of the rink faded. I was aware of every point of contact: my legs tangled with his, the solid plane of his chest under my palms, and the rapid beat of his heart against mine.His gaze dropped to my mouth. His arms tightened almost imperceptibly. My lips parted. The cold vanished, replaced by a wave of devastating heat. He was going to kiss me. I was going to let him.He began to close the infinitesimal distance.“COMING THROUGH! LOOK OUT!”A high-pitched shriek was our only warning before a tiny, sequined cannonball crashed into the boards right beside us. A little girl in a pink snowsuit bounced off and landed on her well-padded bottom, giggling madly.The spell shattered like fragile ice.Derek blew out a long, shaky breath, his eyes drifting shut for a second before he looked at the giggling child. “You alright, sparkles?”The girl’s mother rushed over, apologizing. We untangled ourselves, Derek helping me up with careful hands, his touch lingering. The moment was gone, but the electricity of it crackled in the space between us, potent and unfinished.“Hot chocolate,” he said, his voice unusually gravelly. “I think we need it.”