Elise Gilmore
“Emily, are you sure about this?” Anya, my college roommate, whispers.
I look out over the ice rink instead of answering right away. You see, the guy usually does the grand gesture. The engagement ring hidden in a piece of cake. The six-month anniversary date complete with twinkly lights and pictures of the two of you together hung all around the backyard. The cute rom-com-inspired prom-posal.
But today, I’m going to be the one doing the grand gesture. Right here at the ice rink.
Ever since New Year’s Eve, when my brother’s best friend and I almost kissed, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. To be honest, these thoughts aren’t much different than the ones I’ve been having for years. But when Grant leaned in and dropped his eyes to my lips, I knew for the first time that I wasn’t alone in my feelings. Then, Blake, my brother, slapped Grant on the shoulder and wished him a Happy New Year, diffusing the moment.
“Yep.” I lie and give her a fake smile. The noise of the rink fades in and out as I try to breathe through a wave of anxiety. What if I’m making a huge mistake? I watch Blake and his hockey team whoosh across the ice as they run drills. When my eyes finally find the number eighty-nine, Grant’s number, a sense of calm washes over me. I can do this. I lean down to make sure my white figure skates are laced tight.
I stand up and bury my hands deep in the pockets of my parka. Blake glances over and gives me a slight nod. Anya squeezes my arm and heads off to the sound booth. It’s now or never. I carefully walk over to the opening in the wall surrounding the rink and slide the guards off the blades of my skates.
“Okay, guys,” my brother yells. “Let’s take five.”
A chorus of “Okay, Cap’n” resounds as the guys all skate toward me and exit the ice.
“Em’s going to use the ice during our break.”
The guys nod. Grant looks at me and smiles, but quickly drops his gaze back to the floor when he notices Blake looking at him too. My brother’s always been a bit protective of me, especially when it came to his hockey teammates. Apparently, he’s been telling them for years that I’m off-limits. No wonder Grant never looked my way in high school. But after our almost-kiss, I had a talk with Blake. It took some convincing, but he’s actually on board with what I’m about to do.
I look back at Blake, who gives me an encouraging smile before I skate out into the middle of the rink. I unzip my parka with my back toward everyone. My heart skips a beat as I take it off and slide it toward the far end of the ice. Then I smooth my hands over the top I’m wearing before nodding to Anya in the sound booth. I’ve spent the last week choreographing a routine to “Everything Has Changed” by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran, because, in my mind, it’s our song. I know there technically isn’t an ‘our’ yet, but a girl can hope.
“You good to go?” Ed asks through the speakers.
“I am,” I whisper.
As the guitar strumming starts, I take off across the ice, wearing my heart on my sleeve—or actually my back. I don’t let myself look toward Grant or the team while I’m skating. Instead, I allow myself to get caught up in the song and my routine. As I complete a double axel and go straight into a sit spin, I feel the same butterflies fluttering in my stomach that Ed is singing about in the second verse. I don’t even realize that Grant is out on the ice with me until Taylor and Ed sing the final line: “…everything has changed.”
I spin around to strike my final pose and there he is. My breath hitches.
“Em, that was…” He rakes his hand through his auburn hair and peeks at the guys sitting on the bench. Then he looks back at me, his green eyes sparkling. “That was amazing. And you’re wearing my jersey.”
I look down at the eighty-nine on the front of the jersey Blake swiped for me yesterday from the locker room. “It’s the only clean one Blake could find,” I say, nonplussed.
Grant closes the space between us and tilts my chin up. “Nope. You wore my jersey because you know that’s a hockey thing. Girls only wear their guy’s jersey. Nobody else’s.” His eyes drop to my lips for a moment before meeting my gaze again.
“Yeah…” I admit slowly. “I read about the jersey thing in a hockey romance book. I had to ask Anya if it was a real thing.”
His lips break into a grin. “Oh, it’s definitely a real thing, Em.” He puts his hands on my waist and pulls me close. “You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about something that almost happened a few weeks ago.”
“Oh yeah?” I smile shyly as my heartbeat quickens. “Me too.”
“Dude! Kiss her already!” one of Grant’s teammates yells from behind the boards. A few of the other guys whoop and bang their hockey sticks.
Grant sighs and rolls his eyes. “Are you sure you want to get into this?” He motions toward the team.
I nod my head. “You’re worth it.”
“Three, two, one…” Grant whispers in my ear. Then he pulls back just far enough to capture my lips with his own.
For a moment, it’s just me and Grant in the middle of the ice. Everything else fades away. Too soon, he places one last gentle kiss on my lips.
“Happy New Year, Em.”
It certainly is going to be a happy new year, because finally, everything has changed.
She currently lives in South Carolina with her husband and two boys. When she isn’t writing or reading, you might find her drinking tea or kombucha, obsessing about Pride and Prejudice, or singing and dancing around her house.
Connect with her on Substack or Instagram.
Spark Flash Fiction 