It's Not Over (RusAme Story)

Chapter 14- Skating 2.0

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

~Russia's POV~

I lead America towards the skate room and she follows a bit further behind, seemingly on high alert. I swing the silver key ring around my ring and she flinches. It's kind of funny how much I scare her but I guess it makes sense, seeing how many times I've attacked her.

"What size shoe are you?" I question her as I slip the key into the lock.

She doesn't respond for a second, fiddling with her fingers.

"Hello?"

"A six."

I turn around, looking at her judgmentally. "What?" I ask, thinking that I heard wrong.

"I said a six," she peers determidly at the ground and suddenly I notice how small her feet are compared to mine.

"Really?" I scoff, delighting in her embarrassment.

"Does it matter?" She glares at me.

When she gives me reactions like this, all I want to do is mess with her more. I hide a laugh and go to search for her shoe size.

After a bit of searching, I find a six and hand it to her. She takes them and turns around, stalking back off in the direction of the rink.

I roll my eyes and follow her back. She's totally lying about being able to skate. If she could skate, she'd make some deal about her not being able to play hockey with the guys and probably end up on Canada's team.

~America's POV~

I fumble with the laces of my rental skates, desperately trying to act like I know what I'm doing. Russia watches, seeming amused as I continue to screw up the way the laces are supposed to be wound around the metal hooks. The metal hooks or knobs? Yeah I give up-- I have no clue what I'm doing.

Normally Canada helps me with my skates, and it sure doesn't help that my fingers are freezing. When it's cold, my skin splits super easily and trying to wind these laces around the stupid metal hooks is torture.

Russia just gloats in the corner, basking in the sight of my visible suffering. "Need some help over there?"

"Shut up."

He doesn't threaten me, probably knowing that once I get on the ice, he's going to be calling all the shots. I can barely hold him off on land, how the heck am I supposed to hold him off on ice?

I accept the fact that I'm going to die today and sit distraught, staring blankly at the laces of my skates, which are knotted together in the weirdest way possible.

"This is painful."

"Got any better ideas?" I glare up at him.

"I thought you said you knew how to skate?"

"I do, but my fingers are numb," I lie. Well, my fingers are growing increasingly numb, but that's not the whole reason why I can't lace my skates.

"You're cold?" He gives me a judgemental look.

I growl in exasperation and facepalm, leaning over my knees.

Suddenly I feel pressure on my skates and look down to see Russia crouching in front of my legs. I nearly kick him in the face with my blades before I realise what he's doing. He finishes expertly tying the laces within seconds before standing up, towering over me with the added height of his skates.

'Why did he help me?' I wonder, looking at him inquisitively. He ignores it and I get lost in my thoughts again, hyperventilating about skating in front of him.