Blades

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I don't think I've ever felt quite so comfortable in bed. As I drift slowly out of sleep the memories of last night drift back in. Can it have been real?

I curl onto my side and pull the duvet close around me. My hands in Sandy's hair. My laugh against his lips. The warmth of his mouth on mine and down my neck and on my fingers. Just thinking about it starts a glow in my stomach that spreads upwards and leaves me grinning into my pillow. There's no way I dreamt feelings so intense.

You kissed Sandy McConnell.

My grin widens despite the fact there's no one there to see it. I lie cocooned in my sheets and let myself think it over and over again.

You kissed Sandy McConnell.

The boy I fell for hopelessly – against my better judgement – and have been trying to resist for four months. Your skating partner, says that voice in the back of my mind, your totally off-limits, professional-relationship-only skating partner. My stomach twists, just slightly. Have I made a mistake? Walked into the one trap I swore I'd never fall into?

His hands on my waist, his forehead against mine, our hands intertwined as he walked me home. And, with the fuzziness that returns at the memory, the majority of my brain comes to a firm conclusion: no. I refuse to believe a mistake could feel so good.

I ignore the minority of my brain.

So...now what?

I want to call him. To discuss what this actually means and pin it down into a nice, neat position so that I can get my head around it. Characters in stories always seem to know what will happen after they've kissed someone. Either they're automatically going out or they're tragically separated forever or it's the end of the story and no longer the author's problem. You never see them make a decision, have a conversation about it. They just seem sure of where they stand. But I feel less sure of where I stand now than I did before last night. Before, we had a silent agreement to ignore the big what if  in our relationship. Now the goal posts have changed and I don't know what they are.

On the other hand, every guide to dating I know says you aren't supposed to call someone that quickly. It looks clingy, or whatever. Not that I'd know if this were true since I've never had cause to use a dating guide. Like, ever.

Why are you so bad at decision-making and so good at overthinking?

I reach over and pick up my phone. The clock reads 11:47. We've been let off training this morning because of the gala and The Pride won't be meeting for our Christmas trip until late this afternoon. I have no new messages. What to do? My thumbs hover over the screen for a minute, indecisive. Then I text Charlie:

'SOS, advice needed. Mine if you're free? Xxx'

His reply buzzes in almost immediately.

'Be there in 10 xxx'

I drag myself up to get dressed and, sure enough, Charlie is sat opposite me on my bed by midday. I relate the events of last night's walk, finding I can't look at him for the blush that's on my cheeks. Charlie, on the other hand, is practically bouncing up and down. His black socks look like they're vibrating beneath his knees.

"I knew it!" he exclaims when I've finished and he can contain himself no longer. "Finally. It took you both bleedin' long enough." I laugh, despite the fact my blush has deepened. He pokes one of my reddened cheeks. "I'm pleased for you, Fred-Astaire. I really am." His green eyes dance merrily, and the pure joy in them makes my heart swell. I'm beyond lucky to have Charlie as my best friend.

"It's super cheesy, I know," I say, "but it just felt like this fairy-tale. I can't believe it was me. I can't believe it happened." Charlie chuckles and shakes his head. He's layered a bright orange t-shirt over a charcoal long-sleeved one, and it goes surprisingly well with my turquoise wall behind him.

"Well, you better believe it because it was and it did." He huffs dramatically, "We should be in my room right now. Then I could play you 'All You Need Is Love'."

"Shut up," I laugh. There's a silence as I try to work out how to explain the part of me that's worried. Charlie watches me for a while, then nudges my knee with his when I don't speak.

"What is it, then?"

I trace the swirling pattern on my duvet to avoid meeting his eyes.

"I don't know, it's just me being silly..."

"But?"

"But," I concede, "I'm still not sure it was the right thing for us to do."

"Oh, for God's sake, Freddie, don't start that again." He pushes his hand through his straw-coloured hair so that it stands up. It makes it look as if his hair is exasperated with me too. "You've been torturing yourself over it for months. You can't help your feelings for someone, and you shouldn't make yourself miserable trying to ignore them."

I smile, "I knew you'd say something like that."

"Then maybe you should start listening to my oh-so-wise advice."

I shrug, "I just needed to hear you say it. Thank you."

Another silence. Charlie sighs.

"Go on, then. What's the other thing?"

I do this weird shrug that ends up being more of a pathetic flop forwards.

"I don't know what it means, I don't know what happens next."

Charlie wrinkles his freckled nose at me.

"You're a nightmare, Freddie. You do know that, right?"

"But he never actually said what he feels about me so knowing me I'll have got the wrong end of the stick or - "

"Okay, okay, stop. Just stop." Charlie takes me hands in his, firmly, and ducks his head so that I can't avoid eye contact. "You like him," he says, slowly, "and he clearly likes you." I open my mouth but he cuts me off before I can protest, "No arguing. You know I'm right about this. So instead of freaking out, why don't you just let it find its own way? Become what it becomes?"

"Because I can't afford for it to go wrong," I mutter.

"Freddie, the only thing I can see that might make it go wrong is this. The overthinking. Just breathe, let up control for once and enjoy the ride. It's Christmas, remember? The time of miracles? Have a little faith." I look at him cautiously. Enjoying the ride has always been Charlie's style, not mine. "Okay?" he prompts.

"Okay," I agree with a small smile of relief.

"Now then," he says, brighter again, "I'm starving. Time for lunch." He hops off of my bed and then looks back at my rough ponytail and unwashed face. "Or...breakfast?"

I laugh. "Come on, Charleston. I'll make you a sandwich."