A Secret You Can Keep

I honestly could not think of any better way to start a day than by hitting the half-pipe and slopes with two of my absolute closest friends as the sun rose, in an outrageously gorgeous country. For roughly two hours we doddled around just having fun, but then we had an intense hour long practice that followed. While practice was grueling and demanding, the best part about being a snowboarder – in our opinion – was that, unlike many competitors here, we had the liberty of going through our runs much more relaxed than most people. It was almost like it was engraved in our DNA to just chill.

Out of the three of us, Sage and I both stressed more when parents were involved and present. We both had the freedom of flying solo for this, and it was exhilarating. They weren’t here stressing, so in turn we weren’t stressing at all.

We were just jammin’ and chillin’ with good company on killer pow.

Shaun, being the veteran, had told us time and time again that though it’s the Olympics, you have to treat it like any other competition. Treat it the same as if you were competing against a bunch of newb teenagers. If you allow this competition to be isolated from everything else, it will mess your game up.

So we trained the same as if it was X-Games or a Red Bull event. No big deal. Just the fucking Olympics.

We grabbed some yogurt and bacon for breakfast after practice – like the fucking champions we were – and hung around the USA lobby as the other competitors began to stir. This was the second day where absolutely nothing was going on, and tomorrow the games would begin. Everyone seemed to have been taking advantage of the ‘off’ day and sleeping in. A little before 8, only a few hockey players had shown themselves—of course, it most definitely was not my lazy-ass friends Patrick Kane or T.J. Oshie. No, they were probably going to sleep in until their Captain came busting their balls for being late to practice.

Okay, maybe not.

They did take hockey pretty seriously—but they would lay there until the absolute last second before having to get up. I was the exact opposite.

Growing up, sure, I enjoyed sleeping in however as my mid-teens hit I began to get more and more serious concerning snowboarding. I would hit the slopes for a good two hours before school every day, and then went straight there when school got out. I was a train-a-haulic; but it seemed to have paid off in the long run.

Nothing really had changed since then. I just didn’t have to go to school, so I got to spend all day on the slope or take a break and hi the gym. I couldn’t have asked for a better life, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.

Maybe that’s why I found myself so abnormally nervous for my skating date with Jonathan. Could I even call that a date…? Probably not.

The more my hour glass ticked away, the more my nerves increased. Sage, Shaun, and I all split around 10:30 for various activities after hitting the slopes for a second two-hour round. I was pretty exhausted already and had a couple painful wipe outs, but it was nothing that a hot shower couldn’t fix.

After that, I spent at least ten minutes going through all the clothes I brought trying to pick out something to wear. I was clueless, and I had also never been skating before. What the hell was I supposed to wear? I wasn’t sure what Ariella would be up to this time of day, but I resorted to calling her anyways.

She picked on the second ring, like a doll.
“Hey Spence,”
It was like she had been waiting for my frantic, panicked phone call regarding attire. She knew me entirely too well.

“I told Jonathan Toews I would go skating with him today and I have no idea what to wear,” I breathed, throwing a shirt I had briefly debated on into a ‘no’ pile. Would the shirt even really matter? Hell, the temperature inside the hockey rink would probably be just as cold as it was outside. I probably would be wearing at least two layers of clothing at all times, anyways. This fretting was utterly fucking stupid on so many different levels, and I knew that, yet I was utterly powerless against it.

“Go simple,” she chuckled. My brow pulled together instantly and my lips puckered in confusion. Go simple. Kay… it would help if I knew what not-simple was for skating, or had something to at least go by. I paused, waiting a moment for a clarification since she was sure to know ‘go simple’ wouldn’t really give any kind of explanation to me. “Yoga pants, a hoodie, and some Nikes. And leave your hair down.”

“I’m not even sure why I agreed to hang out with a hockey player anyway,” I muttered, holding back a frustrated sigh. It was no secret I found hockey to be rather… boring? Typical? And the players even more so. I loved Kane, Oshie, Fowler, James Neal, and Kris Letang to death. But most other hockey players were… annoying. Air headed. Irritating. Frustrating. They all thought they were so important—and maybe they were, to their team, but they lacked the certain relaxation element that I adored in snowboarders.

We knew how to work, but we were still ridiculously chill while doing so. We didn’t hurt each other, we didn’t fight, we didn’t argue, didn’t yell… we competed, and went out for a beer afterwards. Sometimes we’d even offer to help someone with a particular trick they were struggling with.

“Speaking of hockey players, I gotta go,” replied Ariella, hanging up before my mouth ever opened to jest.

Unlike me, Ariella loved hockey players. And I suppose, if I put myself in her shoes, I couldn’t blame her. They were strong, capable, masculine, and occasionally pretty attractive. She knew how to talk to guys without sports being the centerfold of the friendship. I didn’t—which was probably why I rarely dated, and rarely hung out with any other athletes outside of snowboarding, surfing, and skateboarding. We all fit so perfectly into a unit of friends.

Surfers were my favorite, and I relished every July I got to spent in California. It became a tradition after my freshman year of high school that I would be sent to California to take a break from snowboarding, and focus on relaxing. Of course, my definition of relaxing included skateboarding and surfing, but I loved the heat and atmosphere.

My hair still held just the faintest highlights of caramel towards the ends from the Cali sun and sea water. I smiled a little in the mirror, ruffling my hair just so and grabbed a red and blue beanie that went with my Red Bull hoodie. Though it hadn’t been on Ariellas list, and she probably would scold me for never being seen without a beanie, I still found it impossible to leave without one.

At fifteen till twelve, as I slipped on my Nikes, the sounds of Fly by Nikki Minaj and Rihanna met my ears. It was such an appropriate song, I couldn’t resist setting it as my ringtone before boarding the plane to Sochi. Grinning, I pulled the phone to my ear.

“Spencer Harding,” I answered, lacing my shoes up tightly.

“You about ready?”

“Mhmm. Just put my shoes on, you have impeccable timing.”

“Oh really?” chuckled Jonathan, and I sighed contentedly. His laugh was musical, a melody carefully played by the most skilled of musicians. “Well, I will see you shortly then. Team Canada practice arena?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” I chirped.

“That’s Sid, but I’ll be more than happy to allow you to call me that if youd like.”

I giggled, rolling my eyes at the faux cockiness he poured on so thickly. “I’ll see you soon, Jonathan.”

I shoved my phone into the hoodie pocket, grabbed my key, and my wallet before exiting my room.

Like a gentleman, Jonathan was waiting for me outside the arena. He was lounging against the brick, decked out from head to toe in Team Canada gear. I made no effort to withhold my scoff, and instantly his eyes flickered up to mine. A slow grin drug across his lips, one that reached every aspect of his face.

“Hey,” he greeted, pushing himself from the building as I reached his side. “You look cute.”

Jonathan was rewarded with another eye roll, which only made his grin cross into a playful smirk. “Thank Ariella, then. Let’s go inside, it’s cold.”

“I’m afraid you won’t find much sanctuary in there, it’s pretty cold too.”

“I’ll take what I can get at this point, I think,” I muttered, and he nodded while pulling open the door. I followed him inside, down a long hallway and turning into the locker room. My nose scrunched up at the abundance of red… everywhere.

Jonathan cast a glance back at me and snorted, tossing his dark eyes in a perfect circle.
“Oh, come on—it’s not that bad.”

I shrugged, plopping down on one of the benches as he rummaged through several pairs of skates.

“What size?”
“Huh? Shoe? Wow, you’re so very forward… what if I have a thing against telling people about my shoes?”

“Well, you’re gonna have to just trust me I suppose.”

“Eight, Cap.”

He pulled out a pair of skates and handed them to me, stepping back and beginning to put on his own gear. I stared at the skates for a moment, unsure of even where to begin. Before I had time to say anything, he beat me to it.
“Just put ‘em on, I’ll lace them for you miss golf-on-ice.”

“You’re so thoughtful, darling,” I laughed, smiling brightly at the smirk and blush he struggled to hide. Halfway through Jonathan lacing up my skates, I got an idea.

“You know this means you’ve got to come snowboarding with me, right?”

He froze, one hand holding the two lace ends and the other pressing firmly down on the skate as he pulled tight. It took a moment as his eyes slowly traveled from where he was working to meet my gaze. I nodded, a proud smirk etched onto my features.

“Oh, yes! Yes, you’re coming snowboarding. Keep that in mind before you make a fool of me on ice today.”

Jonathan chuckled lightly, patting my skates when he finished and stood straight, peering down at me.

“Deal. Just, wait till after I’m finished with games here, and try not to get me knocked out of playoffs back home. Alright?”

“I can handle the first part of that… but I’m not so sure about the second. You forget—I’m a Pens fan.”

“Not right now, missy,” he laughed, tossing me a sweater. I turned it around, and printed across the back shoulders in blocky lettering was “TOEWS”. I tossed it quickly back to him, shaking my head.

“Oh no. You wear yours. I’ll just grab Sidneys,” I replied, giggling at the slight shock on Jonathans face.

“Really?”

“Really.”

His eyes narrowed challengingly, but he tossed me a Crosby jersey nonetheless. “You can forget going easy on you.”

“Bring it, Alternate.”

“I thought I was Captain?” he whined, slipping the shirt over his head as I did the same. My hair swooshed around my face as I shook my head.

“Nope. I changed my mind—I wanna be Captain.”

A devil smirk fell across his handsome features as he looked down at me, eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Well, come on then, Captain,” he began, holding out his hand for me. I gripped it tightly, allowing him to pull me to my feet. I wobbled instantly and flung both of my arms around his. A hearty laugh escaped Jonathans lips as he watched my attempt to regain balance.

It sure took long enough.

“You’ll be alright, just takes some getting used to,” he smiled, slipping his hand into mine for support once I finally steadied myself. “Don’t think about it, just walk.”

I bit into my bottom lip, my eyes fixating on the ground before me as I gripped his hand tightly.

I lost track of how many times I flat-out busted my ice in the first ten minutes. I was absolutely positive I would be bruised from it, in fact.

Ten minutes until I could effectively stand and ease forward without falling.
Twenty minutes until I was comfortable enough with skating that Jonathan didn’t have to hover.
Forty minutes until we were playfully chasing each other around the rink.
Twenty six minutes until we were skating slowly together, just talking about anything and everything.
Thirty minutes until we had a game of keep-away hockey.
Forty minutes until we were gliding around the outer edges making small chatter again.
Five minutes until we decided to head back to the locker room.

As Jonathan was helping me off the ice, so that I wouldn’t bust it yet again, he paused.
“Um, Spencer?” My eyes met his. “Would you want to grab dinner tonight? If you’d like, you can bring Ariella, too. It doesn’t have to be formal.”

I shifted, leaning my weight on the hockey stick as I peered up at him through my dark bangs. Jonathan looked as though he felt awkward, nervous even.
“Jonathan Toews… are you, Mister Serious, asking me on a – dare I say – date?”

His right hand moved to his hair, fingers combing through it effortless before he rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes were flickering around- to the ice, his skates, pictures hanging from the walls, my skates, the tape on his stick- but never my eyes.
“Uh, well. If I was, what would you say?”

“Doesn’t work like that. Yes or no, Toews?”

A long sigh left his lips before he drug his eyes up to my own, where they moved across my face as if he was taking in every little detail down to the freckles, so feint they were almost unnoticeable, scattered across the bridge of my nose. “Yes.”

“Then, in that case, yes; dinner sounds lovely. And you should bring Sidney—he seems to have taken a liking to Ari. They’d be cute.”

He laughed softly and finished helping me off the ice before leading us back to the locker room.

“Are we setting them up, now?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

“How do I know you’re not just using me to get to Sidney?” Jonathan teased, a smile spreading across his face as we sat on the benches yet again.

I shrugged, giving him a mischievous grin as I watched him put away all of our equipment. I didn’t reply immediately, too busy watching his muscles move beneath his t-shirt, and waited until he moved back to me. I sat with my legs crossed, leaning with my elbows propped on the back of the bench and my chin resting between my hands. Jonathan leaned over, his palms digging into the bench just inches outside of my elbows and his nose just inches from my own.

“Well?”

“You don’t,” I murmured, cheeks flushing.

Jonathan let loose another smirk and pushed himself from the bench, extending a hand to me. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I agreed, placing my hand in his much larger as we headed back towards the cold Sochi weather and, ultimately, our own team buildings to get ready.