Practice makes perfect, and when you're fighting to be the best in your sport that is especially true. Ryder and Francesca are no exception. They are dedicated to their sport and refuse to let anything distracted. But when a scheduling conflict forc...
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"Bye Fran," I hear my friends shout from behind me as I dart out of the classroom, already running late. It is almost competition weekend and I am not wasting a single free moment not perfecting my routine. With my bags practically dragging in the snow behind me, I hustle across campus to the rink.
By the time the rink finally comes into view I am winded and my skating bag, which continually falls off my shoulder, is throwing me off balance, but at least I am almost there. And Ryder's car isn't in the parking lot yet so that is a win for me. I step off the curb and cut across the small strip of grass into the parking lot. The parking lot is barely plowed and I have to climb over a mound of snow.
Just as I finally get two feet on the pavement a familiar car turns into the parking lot. Ryder must notice me at the same time I notice him because he parks across three spots and hops out of his car within seconds. I start sprinting for the doors as he opens the back of his car to grab his skates. Seconds later I can hear him running too but I don't turn around. I have reluctantly watched enough horror movies to know, you never turn around.
As I am just a few feet from the door, I can feel Ryder right behind me running as fast as he can. We reach the door at the same time and fight to open it and get inside first. There are elbows flying, hip checks being thrown, and as Ryder grips the door in front of my face, for a second, I think about biting him so he lets go. I obviously don't bite him but these are the lengths I am willing to go to get inside first and I know he would do the same.
I think a part of me likes this little war we have and that's why I don't just step aside and let him in. Whoever makes it inside first at the end of the day makes no difference and yet here we are fighting for our lives all to walk through a door first. "I thought your momma raised a gentleman?" I bitch as he tugs on my bag while I kick back, softly kicking his shin. I would never kick him hard, this is all good fun. Jeopardizing his hockey season would just be cruel, especially after he took the time to find me a good competition song.
"Yeah well momma also didn't raise no bitch." Suddenly a strong arm is around my waist lifting me off the ground and tossing me effortlessly to the side. I stumble but don't fall as Ryder throws open the door and continues running inside to get the cones from the office. I follow throwing my bags on the bench as we pass, just as he throws his skates too.
"Ryder not fair," I call as he pushes ahead, running faster and creating a greater distance between us.
"Life ain't fair toots, get over it."
I come to a complete stop and laugh as he nearly breaks down the office door. I hear Josh and Barb questioning him and he comes out a moment later shutting the door behind him gently. "Ops," is all he says before doubling over in laughter. I laugh with him shaking my head as we both walk back to the ice completely out of breath.
"Those chicken arms hurt Beck," he scolds, rubbing his stomach where I may have jabbed him a few times.
"Sorry," I squeak a little embarrassed about how hard I fought over something so childish.
