The tip of his tongue moistened his lips. “Sounds delicious.”
The opening was too perfect. Since the concert, Sergei and I hadn’t seen each other outside the rink and the coffee shop, and my sensible side told me to keep it that way. But my swirling emotions overpowered my usual sensibility.
“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night and find out?” My invite came out in a rush. “You know everyone who’ll be there–Chris, Marley, Trevor.”
An immediate grin appeared. “I can’t pass up homemade pasta.”
“We’ll see you at eight then.”
He jangled his keys and walked backward toward his SUV. “So, should I expect master chef level cooking?”
I
gave him my best I-mean-business face. “Oh, prepare to be blown away.”
“You know I’m not easy to please.”
“And you know not to doubt me.” I smiled and opened the door of my sedan.
He laughed. “Very true. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I didn’t stop grinning the entire drive home. Knowing Aubrey was going to give me a hard time about inviting Sergei, I planned to keep that information to myself until tomorrow night, leaving her little time to lecture me.
****
With one final twirl in front of my bedroom mirror, I deemed my outfit complete. I’d tried on six different ones for dinner before deciding on a soft pink scoop-necked blouse and a white flouncy skirt. From my closet, I retrieved the four-inch espadrille sandals that gave me the height I always craved. As a skater, being petite had its advantages, but off the ice I wore heels every chance I got.
I
jogged down the four flights of stairs from my room to the kitchen and opened the oven to check on the lasagna. The room filled with the aroma of bubbling mozzarella cheese. The doorbell rang, and my stomach jumped with anticipation. I looked toward the stairs. Aubrey was still getting ready, and I hadn’t told her about our extra guest yet.
Fluffing my hair over my shoulders, I shut off the oven and bounded up the steps to the foyer. I unlocked the door, and the sight of Chris across the threshold settled my stomach.
He handed me two of the four large bottles of soda in his arms. “What’s up, Short Stuff?”
We went down to the kitchen, where Chris hopped onto one of the bar stools along the counter. My partner cleaned up well. His casual polo and jeans perfectly fit his athletic build. People asked why Chris and I didn’t date, but from day one of our partnership we’d had a sibling vibe. Since I was an only child, I enjoyed the feeling of having a slightly older brother.
Aubrey sailed in behind us, fumbling with the chunky jade green necklace around her neck. “ Em , can you clasp this for me? Hey, Chris.”
She held up her long flaxen hair while I connected the tiny metal hooks. “This goes great with your eyes.”
“Thanks. I got it when Marley and I went shopping yesterday.”
Chris fiddled with the oversized oven mitt on the counter. “Marley’s coming tonight, right?”
Aubrey eyed him with interest. “Yeah,” she said and piled five plates next to the stove.
“Um, we need one more plate.” I shifted from one wedge heel to the other. “I invited Sergei.”
She stopped in the middle of gathering silverware. “You invited Sergei?”
“Sergei’s cool,” Chris said. “He’s not a jerk like your coach.”
The doorbell chimed, and Chris leapt from the stool and up the stairs before I could react. Aubrey clamped her hand around my elbow.
“ Em , what are you doing?” she asked in a hushed voice. “You already spend too much time with Sergei. And what is he think–”
“ Shhhh !
He’s a friend, and this dinner is for friends, right?”
Aubrey’s mouth opened, but Chris, Marley, and Trevor burst in with loud talking. Marley was an ice dancer and Trevor a pairs skater in Sergei’s camp.
Trevor deposited two bags of ice onto the counter while Marley gave me a hug. The sweet, flowery smell of her perfume matched her disposition.
The bell rang again, and I scooted past Aubrey and Marley. Sergei stood on my doorstep, holding a white pastry box. I’d fantasized about that moment so many times, except my fantasy didn’t include any other dinner guests.
“Come on in. You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“Just something to go with that mind-blowing meal you’ve made.” He flashed a smile, and my face heated several degrees.
I
took the box from him and peeked under the lid. “ Mmmm , brownies. Can’t ever go wrong with chocolate.”
We joined the group in the kitchen, and Sergei exchanged handshakes with Chris and Trevor.
“Hey, Sergei!”
Marley said.
Aubrey shook her head at me and pulled the salad I’d tossed out of the refrigerator. I shoved the oven mitt over my hand and took the lasagna from the oven.
“We’re going to eat upstairs on the terrace,” Aubrey announced.
Everyone poured drinks and reached for plates, and Sergei moved next to me as I cut into the lasagna.
I
gave him a wide smile. “You ready to be amazed?”
****
“ Em , you want more soda?” Trevor asked as he stood.
I
passed him my empty plastic cup. “Yes, please.”
We had long finished dinner, but everyone remained around the big patio table, talking and listening to the stereo Aubrey had set up. Sergei had eaten two helpings of lasagna, and his compliments made me giddy. I couldn’t stop staring at him. His oxford shirt matched his eyes, and its opened top button revealed a glimpse of smooth, tanned skin.
Whenever my gaze roamed to Sergei across the table, I found him looking back at me. Sometimes his lips curled into a smile; other times, he quickly averted his eyes. Our evening-long tango of stares had my head spinning. Thankfully, Chris was too busy ogling Marley to notice us, and Aubrey and Trevor were engaged in their usual snappy banter.
Trevor returned with my drink and nudged Aubrey’s arm. “Have you been playing Death Race ?” Despite her girly-girl appearance, Aubrey was a fierce video game competitor.
“Last time I played was the night I kicked your butt.”
“Ouch!” Chris bumped Trevor’s broad shoulder. “You gonna take that, man?”
Trevor pointed at Aubrey. “It’s time for a rematch. You game?”
Aubrey jumped up. “You. Me. Downstairs.”
“Marley, we can show ‘ em how it’s done,” Chris said.
“I need to get going. I have to drive to Providence tomorrow morning for my sister’s birthday.”
Chris’s face sagged, and I made a mental note to harass him later about his apparent new crush.
“Tell her happy birthday for me,” I said, walking Marley to the door.
Chris, Aubrey, and Trevor disappeared into the house, and Marley waved her dainty fingers. “See you Monday!”
Sergei had gotten up with everyone, and he stood next to me in front of the sliding glass door. I put one hand on my hip.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving, too?”
“What, you don’t want to join in the fun downstairs?” His tongue poked inside his cheek, suppressing a grin.
I
dropped onto one of the wrought iron chairs. “They could be down there for hours . You have no idea how serious they get when they play.”
Sergei stuck his hands in his jean pockets and took two hesitant steps toward the table. “I don’t want to overstay my welco –”
“Trust me, you’re not,” I interrupted. “I’d love the company.”
He smiled and sat across from me . “I didn’t realize it’s after midnight. I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun.”
“We do these little dinner parties a lot. Consider yourself with a standing invitation.”
“I appreciate that. There are a few people at the rink I do things with but no one I consider a close friend.” Sergei looked me straight in the eyes. “I think I talk to you more than anyone else.”
My
heart fluttered like a leaf in the crisp night breeze. “I’m glad we get along so well. It definitely makes working together more pleasant.”
“No, it wouldn’t be much fun if I couldn’t stand you.” He winked and sipped from his bottle of water.
Dim light from a couple of lanterns shone on the table, while deep shadows hid the rest of the terrace. We’d never been alone quite like this, and my pulse quickened with each passing second.
“I have to tell you again . . . that was the best lasagna I’ve ever had,” Sergei said.
“Wait till you try my pesto pasta. I’ll make that next time.”
He angled forward, and the lantern illuminated his intrigued smile. “What other hidden talents do you have?”
I
tilted my head to the side and ran a finger along the rim of my cup. “I can’t give away all my secrets.”
A few wisps of hair blew across my face, tickling my cheek. The terrace usually served as my serene oasis; the bay breeze had a way of washing away the stress of training. But tonight the place had a new feel. The air crackled with energy.
The CD changer shuffled to “Sparks” by Coldplay, and I sighed. “I love this song.”
“You and Chris should skate to this for your show program,” Sergei said.
“How is it you and I always agree on music?”
He held out his hand, palm upward. “We both have excellent taste.”
I
giggled. “Of course. And while we’re being modest, we both have great ears for skate-able music.”
“Bring the CD to the rink next week, and we can start working on the program.”
“Chris already nixed this song. He wants to do hard rock, and I want something slow and beautiful.”
“You make every program you skate look beautiful.”
Sergei’s eyes lingered on mine , mesmerizing me with their shine. Goosebumps covered my arms. The music played on, and the crickets continued chirping as if the awkward pause didn’t exist.
Sergei looked at the stereo and cleared his throat. “So, what other songs have you talked about?”
I
rubbed my forearms and took a sip of soda before giving him my ideas. While debating each song, we drew up choreography using empty water bottles as skaters and the tabletop as ice. I rolled with laughter as Sergei tried to balance one bottle on top of the other, imitating an overhead lift.