Breaking Point

Chapter One

I don't shiver on the ice rink anymore, my internal temperature had adjusted to match the ice I skated on somewhere along the years. But watching the beginning skaters shake as they enter the rink for what must be their 3rd or 4th time through the fingerprint-covered window brings back memories that make me smile despite my inherently shitty mood.

Frankly, the entire week had been shitty. On Monday (which happened to be valentines day), my boss finally gathered the courage to fire me. Even though I knew it would happen soon- the shop couldn't stay open much longer- I hadn't been as ready for it as I thought. When I went to call my friends for comfort, they had all missed my calls and said they'd call back later- after their dates. By the time I saw them the next day I'd been too ashamed to tell them. The rest of the week had been a blur, I'd spent 8 hours on Tuesday and Wednesday here, skating, perfecting my routines for competition.  Yesterday I didn't leave my bed. 

Today I was here again; duffel bag and skates slung over my shoulder, headphones around my neck, dirty hair pulled into a messy do that landed somewhere between a ponytail and a bun, eye bags and chewed on nails on full display, watching the beginning skaters tumble around the rink.

As usual, watching the elementary schoolers sliding around, gaining their balance, and chasing after one another almost made me forget my bad week. 

"Ivy," the calming voice of Julia, my instructor, echoing from behind me pulls me away from the large window. Her windswept blonde hair is perched in a bun on top of her head, and her own beat-up but none the less fancy skates are slung gracefully over her shoulder. "Are we supposed to have a session today?"

I shake my head, "I just came in to practice." 

"Well, regardless," she looked around like she was plotting something, a spark in her eye, "there's someone I want you to meet."

I dropped my smile off of my face. Julia was trying to set me up with a couples partner. There was nothing I wanted less in this world than to be a couples skater, something I had told Julia repeatedly; nevertheless, she never failed to have 'someone she wants me to meet.' The last option had been a kind, but ultimately talentless, 20 year old who had dropped me mid-air.

I hold up my hand in a 'stop' motion. "Please no." I feel nauseous thinking about Skating with another person. The ice is my space. I can hardly let people into my life off the rink, much less within the most important, vulnerable part of my life.

She takes my outstretched hand as an opportunity, grabbing it and turning, pulling me behind her gracefully. Much less gracefully, I attempt to dig my heels into the ground, but I only slide after her on the wet tile. "Juliiiaa."

"Ivy, I'm not kidding. You have to at least meet him, I know you're scared of skating with someone else, but you guys could win some serious shit together, and I'm not letting you miss out on this one," she turns her head, looking at my face, and a splash of sympathy, followed by humor dashes across her face. "Come on Ivy," she sighs, "this ones cute, I promise."

Strangely, Julie is probably my best friend. She had practically raised me. Julia had taught me to skate since I was 4 years old as a favor to my family, and she's only 15 years older than me. She is a prodigy skater- she even competed in the Olympics years ago- but teaching is her passion. Julia is a force to be reckoned with on and off the ice; I could fight against couples skating with all I had in me, but I couldn't just walk out on her. My bad week took any energy I might have to fight Julia out of me.

The fact that on Tuesday night Sammi had let me know that she thought the reason I was "failing" in my life was my inability to function with others (she had put it in harsher terms) didn't exactly have nothing to do with my choice to give in to Julia's pull.

She drags me through the swinging doors to the more private, professional practice rink, stopping so quickly on the other side of them that I almost run right into her, sharpened ice skate blades and all. A couple of other skaters are milling around the rink and a few I recognize shoot a nod in my direction, but I don't see who she wants me to see. I walk around her so I'm standing next to her and follow her strong gaze 10 feet to my left.

Oh.

Ohhh.

My mouth drops open a little bit at the sight of the (6 foot something ?), muscled, perfectly relaxed 20 something standing just off the rink, phone in hand. He wears loose fitting gray sweatpants and a tight white T-shirt that emphasize his arm muscles beautifully. His broad shoulders give way to a strong neck and a chiseled, stubble adorned jaw. His dark brown hair is shaggy, sticking out in the air in all directions, and slightly damp from what must be sweat. Julia had been right, he was cute, cuter than any of the other guys she had introduced me to so far.