Devotion

fifteen ﾒ ice rinks

ANGELICA

Luca's taking me to the car. To go somewhere that's not the Elmer Holst Library. It's like he's desperate for us to start, but once I'm on board, he wants to do something else. Ugh, this is why I'm not dependent on people when it comes to my work.

I take pride in my work. I didn't study my ass off during my high school years, get accepted into my dream school, and get this far, just to have my time wasted. I want a big, fat A+ on my capstone project because I expect no less.

"Where are we going?" I ask quietly, holding my purse in both hands. "Because you said that we're going to the library to talk about the project. And well, buddy, we aren't talking about the project. So, I'm starting to think you're not taking this seriously."

Luca glances my way with no expression on his face. He's awfully quiet. Maybe work got to the best of him today, or maybe I'm talking too damn much. "You're killing me here. If you're going to lure me out of my possible sleep coma, entertain me at least."

Once we get to his car, he passes me to open the door and guides me inside. He didn't close the door until I strapped myself tight to the seatbelt and got comfortable.

With no answer as to where we're going, the realization creeps in as we pass familiar New York roads. After not too long in the car, he arrives at a sports complex. It just happens at Chelsea Piers Ice Rink, where NYU plays hockey.

"Why are we here, Bertarelli?" I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide on my Converse again. I was ordered to take them out because he accused me of not being a responsible shoe caretaker and that he'd attack me if I got a piece of dirt in his car.

And they say romance is dead.

"This is where I play during the season," he says. Luca reaches behind him with a stack of folded clothes tight in his hands. He unbuttons his black collared shirt, throwing it behind him and sliding on an NYU sweatshirt.

"We are supposed to be coming up with an idea of what to do for the project, not learning how to ice skate in our free time. This is a date activity. I don't have time for dates or outside activities unless it's going to get me into Georgetown."

He quickly pulls down his slacks, and for a second, I thought I'd see boxers, but he had shorts under. "This will help." He takes his keys out of the ignition. "When I'm on the ice, it allows me time to think about the other shit I accomplish on a daily basis."

Just as I'm about to open my door, Luca locks it once he's out of the car. He rounds up his black Range Rover and opens the door for me. "Plus, I don't feel like sitting in a library."

I grab my purse and slide out of the car. "You know, you keep wasting my time, like I don't have an education to fulfill. What happened to the guy who studies and runs the country at the same time under pressure?"

"I'm wasting your time by doing something fun." He asks. I close the door and stand beside him as we walk. "Gee." His voice is so unemotional. I can't take it seriously.

"Just be quiet, like you've been doing," I say, raising a hand in annoyance. But then I remembered a fact that needs to be told before the damage is done. "I can't skate on ice."

Luca shrugs, opening the complex door. "It's easy. I'll teach you."

"Easier said than done. Plus, that would require us touching, and the thought is giving me migraines on top of migraines."

A smirk rises on his lips. "You're not up for the offer of skating with the sexiest frat brother, mob leader, and hockey player?"

"I'll pass." I roll my eyes.

Luca turns his head slightly, staring at me. I try my hardest not to do the same because it's uncomfortable when someone stares too long.

We enter the sports complex, where there are several rooms for different occupations like sports playing, masseuse, and something else. Fancy and nice—all that jazz. It's so cute. I wonder if they have pink robes in the spa.

He leads the way as he opens the door to a large ice rink. At first, my first thought was to wander around, but I needed my shoes. And for someone to not lose me, although we're the only ones here right now.

"Let's get you some skates." He walks around until he faces a booth. A man with a purple and white shirt comes out with a pair of shoes in their correct size. I'm guessing I have to pay for my own shoes to rent. "What size do you wear?" Luca leans down in my ear to whisper.

"Like a 7 in women," I reply back. I open my wallet to fish out a $20 bill for my own responsibility in purchasing my shoes. The ice skate dude slid the shoes on the counter before manually typing the price of how much to rent. $100 is the answer.

And holy crap. I have $100, but to rent ice skates? No. To buy books and stationery? Yes.

The $20 wouldn't be enough to cover it, so I have to dig more for other $20 bills stuck in the hinges of my purse. Luca pulls out his Amex Black card, purchasing my shoes. "Thank you," I say, grabbing them.

"Mhm," he hums. We walked for a while around the rink and through the bleachers as we argued about the ride here. His car kept 'rumming' and I kid you not, if I had been put into martial arts, the black belt would be clearing the service.

He sits next to me on the bottom row of bleachers as he settles into his run-down ice skates. He calls them "his lucky skates", He's had them since his freshman year of high school. On the other hand, I should make up my mind if I want to sacrifice myself for ice.

Without even asking, he raises my foot so that, as it rests, he ties my shoe for me. I couldn't help but stare.

The more we hang out, the more I'm beginning to tolerate his kind of sickly presence. Between the dinners and the project, we are constantly in one another's faces about nothing. Except for school.

"Alright," he says, standing up and walking onto the ice without a problem. He holds out his arm. "Come on, I told you I'd teach you."

I stand warily near the ice with a doubtful look. Can I trust you, Luca Bertarelli? "Will you try to use this outing as an excuse to kill me?"

His hand becomes impatient as he gestures over to me. "For God's sake, no, De Santis. I was using this outing as an excuse to hang out with you." Silence falls between us. "It was a joke," he says.

The both of us stand in awkward positions; he's on the ice with a helpful hand for support, and I'm on the skates, barely balancing near the edge of the water. Until he does the dumbest thing.

He uses his full body weight to capture my body near the edge, his hand wrapped around cozily and comfortably. He sets me down, and we're so close in the gaps. I haven't been paying much attention, but I've learned how to ice skate.

Then, another lap at the rink is made. "Luca!" I have the best idea. "Our project should be a case study of familial organized crimes. We should dig into our history with this stuff. What do you say
?"

"You're somewhat of a genius," he says. "But, never smarter genius than me."