Work Text:
Of Course
Nine/Seven
“We have a new dance partner for you,” his aunt announced. Scott sighed. Every week it seemed there was a new girl to skate with and it was starting to get old. He loved skating- like flying around the ice, but the girls were always too shy to hold his hand, or too clumsy, or too short, or worst of all simply couldn’t match his pace. He was starting to think he should just go play hockey. But Wednesday afternoon found him lacing up his skates and scanning the rink for his aunt. When he saw her she had a young girl in tow. Scott looked down at the girl. How old was this one, seven? She looked back at him and blinked. “Hi,” she offered, “I’m Tessa.” “Hi,” he said politely. At least she wasn’t giggling. “Go on, take a few laps around,” encouraged his aunt. Scott stepped on to the ice and held out his hand. Tessa took it and they headed out. She didn’t look at him, and she didn’t say anything, but after half a lap around the rink Scott realized that not once had she pulled ahead of him or fallen behind. “Huh,” he thought, as they settled into a rhythm together, “this could work.” After another few laps of perfect pacing he looked over at her. “Want to try a waltz step?” he asked. “Of course,” she replied simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Eleven/Nine
Two years and countless laps later they were officially on the skating team, which meant long bus rides to various events, which meant choosing seat partners. Scott was cute, and lively, and funny, and constantly in demand. Usually he relished the attention, the ‘Scott will you sit with me, circle Yes or No’ notes and the girls who hooked their arms through his and lead him to their seat. He got a kick out of watching various girls glare at each other over his company and the round-robin flirt-a-thons made the trip go by quickly. But on this particular day he was tired, and as he slowly climbed the bus steps, he realized that he wasn’t looking forward to the seat drama. Sure enough as he approached the back of the bus, the clamor grew. “Hi Scott!” waved one hopeful, horribly perky blonde. Two girls who had been sitting together moved into separate seats, each of them patting the empty space next to her and motioning him over. “Dude!” yelled his friends from the back, already engaged in some kind of awkward wrestling maneuver that spilled them in to the aisle. He paused and looked around, taking a deep breath before trying to choose between equally exhausting options. Suddenly he noticed that he had stopped next to where Tessa sat quietly reading her book. She looked like an oasis of calm, and with an overwhelming sense of relief he dropped into the seat with her.
“Hi,” she said, rummaging around in her bag. “I brought you an apple.”
“What?” Scott wondered. Had she known he would sit with her? Did she always just bring extra apples? Mentally shrugging, he realized he didn’t really care. He was hungry and she was just so unflappably Tessa. He took the apple, and as he crunched into its sweetness he wondered why he had never thought to sit by her before.
That night as the light dimmed and the furor in the bus gradually died out they stayed up late talking. It occurred to him that of the hours and hours they had spent together, almost none of it had included talking about anything other than ice dancing. It was fun, telling her about his dog, about playing hockey, about his family. “How long you going to be an ice dancer?” he asked her. She looked at him directly. “I thought about doing ballet instead.” Pause. “But I really like skating with you.” With that, her cheeks colored up and she turned to look out of the dark bus window. “Hey,” he said, leaning around to catch her eye, “maybe we’ll go to the Olympics someday.” She nodded solemnly, looking him straight in the eyes again. “Yes. Maybe we will.”
He was thinking that she could be really serious for a nine year old when she suddenly squinted her eyes at him. Abruptly her focused expression dissolved into a huge grin and her laughter echoed through the quiet bus. “Shhh!” he said, frantically waving his hand by her mouth and glancing around. “You’ll wake everyone up!”
“Sorry!” she whispered. “But your eyeliner from the show is giving you puppy dog eyes. Here…”
As she reached up to rub the smudge away with her thumb, Scott thought about what a strange thing it was to be partners with this intense, funny little girl. Strange, but somehow he liked it.
Thirteen/Eleven
Their choreographer thought it was time to mix things up a bit. “You guys have been skating together for, what, 4 years now? Let’s throw some new things your direction.” Instead of ending their routine standing next to each other holding hands, they now were going to spin back-to-back, stopping with Tessa’s head leaning back onto his shoulder, her arms in the air, his hands spread out down low. The timing was excruciating, as they really couldn’t see each other and their only solid connection was Tessa’s warm head against the back of his shoulder. They tried it again and again, gradually settling into the rhythm. Then their coach had them hold the final pose for what seemed like hours as she painstakingly adjusted a skate angle here, a wrist position there, all while Scott supported Tessa’s head on his back. It was different and interesting, but by the time they climbed into the back seat of the car for the ride home they were both exhausted. Scott watched Tessa’s eyes close and her head grow heavy and tilt towards the window. As the car braked, her head slid forward along the windowpane, pulling her forward until he thought she would pitch out of her seat. With a jerk she sat back upright and started the process over again, head lolling to the side against the hard window. “Ah, c’mon,” he thought to himself. “We just spent all afternoon with her head on my shoulder. What’s the difference now?” He leaned across the seat and tugged on her sleeve. “Tessa!” he whispered. She stirred and looked at him sleepily. “Come here!” he said, patting his shoulder. She nodded and shifted her weight towards him as he dipped his shoulder down to her height. She was asleep again within seconds, and after a few minutes of drowsily noticing that her shampoo made her smell like a girl, he was too.
Practice the next day was easier and Scott had enough energy for homework on the drive home. Chewing on his pencil and deep into a math problem, he was barely aware of Tessa pulling her book out of her bag and settling in to read. He couldn’t help but notice, however, when she turned her back to the car door and put her stocking feet up on the seat between them, sliding her toes under his thigh. He took the pencil out of his mouth and looked at her. She didn’t look up from her reading. Reaching over with his pencil, he tapped briskly on the back of her book.
“Tessa!”
She looked up. He pointed down with his pencil. “Feet?”
She didn’t move them.
“Tessa, gross, move your feet.”
“They’re not gross, they’re just feet,” she said.
“C’mon, sweaty, stinky, skater FEET!” He squirmed away from them.
“Clean socks,” she said, sticking them under his leg again. “Plus my toes are cold.”
“I know they are, I can feel them on my leg!”
They stared at each other. “Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re an ice dancer. There’s no such thing.”
Scott had to concede this was a valid point. “Fine,” he said. “But only if you’re wearing clean socks.” He said it like they had struck a bargain, but they both knew she had won.
Fifteen/Thirteen
The bunch of them knew each other pretty well, which either made the Truth or Dare games better or worse, depending on your perspective. Either way it had become a tradition before competitions to gather in one of the hotel rooms and play a few rounds. This night was no different, except that Tessa had excused herself and was reading her book on the couch by the window.
“Truth,” said Scott confidently when his turn came around, having been burnt before. One of the figure skater girls leaned flirtatiously against him. “We’re all your friends, right, Scotty?” He nodded. “Well then tell us…which one of us do you like the best?”
Tessa didn’t look up, but her eyes stopped scanning the page.
Feeling a bit deer-in-the-headlights with the girl leaning all over him, Scott was mildly surprised to hear his own voice say steadily, “Well, clearly Tessa. She is my best friend and all.” Immediately the hoots and whistles started up around the room and the attention turned to Tessa. “Woo, Tessa! Did you hear that?” “Scott says he likes you best. I think he looooves you.”
Tessa calmly turned a page in her book. “Of course he does. We’re best friends. I love Scott with all of my heart.” She continued reading.
The crowd turned its delighted attentions back to Scott and as he fended off pillows and elbows and teasing, he realized how true it was. They had been skating together for six years. He’d seen her throw up. She’d seen him cry. Heck, he’d made her cry. There wasn’t anyone he trusted more. There wasn’t anyone who made him laugh harder. There definitely wasn’t anyone who knew him better. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up with a girl for a best friend, but there was no doubt about it.
The following night it was dark and quiet on the bus ride home, all the kids worn out from the excitement and strain of the competition. As usual Tessa was nodding off next to him. He was surprised to notice that they were holding hands. That was the case more and more lately- after hundreds (thousands?) of hours spent reaching for each other’s hands it sometimes just happened without him even realizing it. Some kind of weird muscle-memory thing, he guessed. Scott nudged her with his elbow and she raised a sleepy eyebrow at him. “What?” she whispered. Leaning towards her he looked at her face intently. “Tess, you meant that? Last night. We’re best friends.” She nodded. “And you love me? Like a friend, I mean?”
“Of course, “ she replied. “You know I do.”
Hearing her say it was new, but it didn’t carry any of the awkwardness that it might have with anyone else.
“Yeah,” he sighed, settling his head back against the bus seat. “I love you too.”
Sixteen/Fifteen
Somewhere along the way Tessa had developed curves, and although Scott was keenly aware of them he tried his best to keep his head in the game. It didn’t help though, that their choreography was evolving, from mostly hand holding to skating arm in arm, to now…this. In the practice room the choreographer lined them up side-to-side, Tessa’s left shoulder directly up against his chest, his arm around her back. “Now, Tessa, I want you to lift your left arm and pivot towards Scott,” the man said. Tessa obliged, and as she did so Scott was painfully aware of her chest as it pressed against his side. Tessa didn’t blink or flinch away. “Again,” came the direction. As they repeated the move, with Scott posed and Tessa rotating against him, it hit him hard how much she trusted him- to not tease her, to not take advantage of her. It felt like a gift, and for the millionth time he thanked whatever skating gods had given him Tessa for a partner. The weight of her trust made him want to deserve it.
It didn’t get any better though, when they finished the move, which ended with her continuing to rotate down his arm until his hand was dragging along her rib cage as she turned. Problematically, his hand seemed to be wider than the narrow distance between her stomach and her chest. No matter how hard he tried to stay in the safe zone the move inevitably ended with his thumb fumbling around in dangerous territory. It was worse out on the ice with everything spinning faster and with the added instability of the skates. It bothered him. On the one hand he felt like the luckiest guy in the world. On the other hand he shouldn’t even be thinking about it like that. This was Tessa and she trusted him to be mature about this. She was acting like a complete professional, as usual, but how could he just assume this was OK? They weren’t kids anymore, and she was beautiful, and he was aware of it. Really aware of it. She was his best friend, right? His best friend with breasts that he kept touching accidentally. Damn.
They could talk about this. They should talk about this. They talked about all kinds of stuff…just, never…this.
Finally they took a break and he saw his chance to say something. He was flustered as he skated over to where Tessa was resting with her back against the low wall that surrounded the rink. Casually he leaned one elbow on the top of the wall, facing her.
“Hey,” she nodded. Scott picked at a piece of peeling paint and took a deep breath. “So,” he said, “are you OK with this new move?” She looked at him, surprised.
“I mean, it’s kind of…touchy,” he continued lamely, making a vague gesture at her torso. “Do you…mind?” He felt like his face was on fire.
He saw her realize what he was asking. She went very still and her cheeks flushed. After a long pause she took a deep breath.
“Actually,” she said slowly, glancing sideways at him, “I kind of like it.”
Her answer almost knocked him out of his skates. It was by far the most suggestive thing she had ever said to him. In stunned surprise he pushed off backwards from the wall, gliding away from her with his eyebrows up to his hairline. Looking back at her he could see that her face was a twisted mixture of amusement and the slow mortification of realizing what she had just admitted to. As his backwards momentum slowed, he quickly changed direction, skating towards her again and slamming like a hockey player into the wall next to her.
“You DO?!” he sputtered. Her gaze was fixed on the ice. “Yeah,” she said. And then in a very small voice, “Don’t you?”
She wasn’t looking at him at all now. For the first time in his life he was very aware of trying NOT to touch her. The question hung in the air between them.
“Well…yeah!” he said, both hands gripping his hair as if trying to keep his head from exploding. Her eyes flickered towards him and then went back to examining her skates. “Of course I do.”
Tessa’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t look up. He was suddenly overwhelmed with fondness for this brave, funny, vulnerable girl. Still careful not to touch her, he swung around so that one hand rested against the wall on each side of her and bent his forehead close to hers.
“Tess. Tessa. Look- I…I actually try really hard NOT to like it, too much, you know.” She lifted her head to look at him. “I…I’m…I spend a lot of time trying really hard not to be creepy out there.” They looked at each other in silence for a moment until Tessa finally said, “Ha,” for lack of anything better to say. Scott straightened up, threw his head back and laughed, relieved and amused. When he looked back down at her, he grinned. “Well, I’m glad you don’t mind,” he said. “Well I’m glad you’re not a creep,” she replied. Their coach’s whistle sounded, calling them back to practice. Scott held out his hand. Tessa took it without hesitation and they skated out onto the ice.
Seventeen/Fifteen
“They moved the time for hockey practice on Friday,” his mom said. “They changed it to 4:00.” Four o’clock was his practice time with Tessa every day. “What do you want to do?” she asked.
“Miss hockey, I guess,” he said. He and Tessa had a competition coming up and there was still a lot they needed to work on. “They’ll barely notice I’m not there.”
When he got to the rink later that day he groaned as he remembered that they’d planned a costume fitting for part of the practice time. Skating was fun; standing on a stepstool while a middle-aged lady pinned fabric around your legs was NOT. When he slumped into the practice room, Tessa was already in position on a stepstool, facing away from him, arms out, while the seamstress ran a measuring tape down her hip to the edge of her skirt. Scott blinked. He could see why they were measuring it- the skirt was significantly shorter than anything she’d worn before. When had Tessa’s legs gotten that long? Then he noticed how bare her shoulders were. Good grief, this was some costume.
She caught him looking in the mirror and shrugged her shoulders at him, a little self-conscious. He gave her a thumbs-up sign and went to stand on his own step stool. “Can you give me short-shorts to match Tessa’s skirt?” he asked the seamstress. The woman just looked at him, but he heard Tessa giggle from across the room and knew she was picturing it in her head.
Friday afternoon he walked into the rink for practice and stopped abruptly, horrified. When his mom had told him that hockey practice would overlap with their skating time, he hadn’t thought it through. It hadn’t occurred to him that they would be sharing the ice. But sure enough, orange cones split the rink down the middle. On one end he could see his buddies warming up. And there was Tessa in sweats down on the other end, stretching out in the bleachers. His stomach sank. While his teammates knew that he took “skating lessons,” he hadn’t really ever felt the need to use the term “ice dancing.” He was proud of what he and Tessa had accomplished, but introducing himself to his buddies as an ice dancer was the equivalent of waving a big red flag with the words “Tease Me About Twizzles” written on it. It just hadn’t seemed necessary.
“Be a man, Scott,” he told himself sternly. He could handle a little teasing. And there was really no way around it. Unless…
Their coach hadn’t arrived yet. He’d have to hurry. Dodging over and around the bleacher seats he made a beeline for Tessa. “Hey, Tessa!” She looked up, waved. “Tessa, is your costume ready? Let’s make this a dress rehearsal!” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She had pretty good radar for when he was up to something.
“Why?” she asked skeptically.
“Oh, you know, it just looks, a little, um, different than some of your other costumes…I want to make sure it’s not too slippery for the lift…”
He wasn’t convincing her. Her eyes darted from side to side and landed on the hockey practice. Her eyebrows lowered thoughtfully. “Is that your hockey team?” He knew she was on to him when her mouth fell open and she whirled to face him.
“Scott Moir, are you…are you using me? You would use me to impress your friends?”
He nodded anxiously. “Yes, Tessa, yes. Absolutely, yes. Do this for me?”
“Hell no,” she said.
“Hell please?” he begged.
She pursed her lips and stared at him, thinking it over. There was a look in her eyes that made him slightly nervous. Finally she stepped very close to him and put one finger in the middle of his chest, tapping it against him for emphasis. “For you, Scotty. Only for you.”
He realized that he’d been holding his breath. “Thank you,” he exhaled as she turned and walked away.
Changing into his costume, he couldn’t believe he’d talked her into it. And he couldn’t believe it even more when she joined him on the ice a few minutes later. She looked amazing. Was she wearing lipstick? Their coach gave them a weird look but didn’t say anything about the costumes. As their music started up, he noticed a few of his teammates nudging each other and pointing at him. Well, no going back now, he thought, as he reached for Tessa. As they danced, he could barely keep a straight face, because Tessa really went all in. She gazed into his eyes adoringly. She left her hands on his chest longer than she was supposed to and trailed her fingers up his neck to caress his face. When she came down from the lift, she came down too close to him so they were pressed together and she had to cradle his head with her arms while he clutched at her waist for balance. After that she surreptitiously positioned his hand higher on her thigh, which surprised him so much that he almost fell over. And on their final spin, she wrapped one leg tightly around his hip- a move that had been cut from the routine by their parents for being ‘too mature.’ When he dipped her backwards in their last embrace, she clenched her hands in his hair, pulling his face down to hers. “I owe you forever,” he muttered, his words muffled against her cheek.
“Oh, of course you do,” she whispered back.
As he set her upright on the ice, he heard a slow clap and a low whistle from the other half of the rink. Glancing over he could see that his entire team had come to a halt and was staring. Half of them had their mouths hanging open. Scott felt a weird mixture of protectiveness and pride as he watched 10 pairs of adolescent male eyes look at Tessa, and then back at him, and then back to Tessa, who stretched her legs, feigning obliviousness. No, there would be no teasing today, at least none but the jealous kind. He really would owe her forever.
“WHAT. WAS. THAT?!” said their coach.
Seventeen/Fifteen
A few weeks later found them gathered at a friend’s house whose parents were away. Scott held court in the kitchen, laughing and telling stories with the guys. He could see Tessa in the living room, smiling and chatting. She looked like she was having a good time.
The next time he checked on her she had gone quiet and was curled up on the couch by herself. Scott knew her moods well by now and he recognized that she was done with the crowd scene. Just then she lifted her eyes to meet his. Wordlessly he motioned with his head to the back door. She smiled in agreement and slipped out after him onto the back porch. It was a cold Canadian night with crisp stars overhead. She leaned against the railing, looking out at the thick trees that surrounded the house, rubbing her bare arms. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her, trying to cover all of her exposed skin. She shivered and leaned back against him. How in the world did people survive without a Tessa?, he wondered. She was just so…comfortable. And honestly, holding her felt so good. It had been on his mind lately. Her performance for the hockey team had been a joke...and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her hands in his hair and her leg wrapped around him. He stuck his cold nose in her neck and she giggled and squirmed away before relaxing again. Without making a conscious decision, he heard himself say, “Hey Tess, have you ever kissed anyone?”
She went very still, before she slowly replied, “Just in that one Truth or Dare game, I guess.”
He took a deep breath, somewhat surprised at how nervous he was. But he pressed on, his face still nuzzled against her neck. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t make fun of him at least. “Do you think you’d want to try kissing…”
“OK,” she said, before he could even finish with ‘…me’.
“Ok,” he whispered, closing the small distance between his lips and her skin. It was electric. He trailed his lips up the side of her neck as she spun in his arms to face him. How could she possibly be so familiar and so exciting at the same time? He’d wondered about kissing her- would it just feel like dance practice? But as she threw her head back and leaned into him it was clear this was something new. Dance practice never felt like THIS. When his lips found hers it didn’t surprise him at all that they understood each other- when to lead, when to follow, when to press, when to withdraw. What did surprise him was the heat that uncurled in his stomach. He already knew that he liked touching her, but this- this was unbelievable. He leaned into her against the railing and deepened the kiss. She didn’t pull away. He’d known she wouldn’t.
There were a few glorious weeks after that when they kissed as often as possible. It wasn’t easy- they were rarely alone together, but sometimes he could find her in the locker room before practice or sneak some time away together on team trips. It felt like a luxury, finally being able to give in to this thing that had been building between them for, what, years? But there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him it couldn’t last. He tried to ignore it, but he wasn’t very surprised when one day she stopped kissing him and leaned her forehead against his chest. “I don’t think we can keep doing this, Scotty,” she said, sounding like she’d been preparing a speech. He wrapped his arms around her and listened.
“I like kissing you, but I love skating with you. What if we mess that up?”
He put his chin on top of her head and thought about the reality he’d been brushing aside for the last few weeks. He knew what she was talking about- while there were some married ice dancers, it was pretty much accepted as a recipe for disaster to hook up with your partner at their age. They both knew plenty of pairs that hadn’t survived a romantic break-up. She went on. “I barely remember life without you. I don’t ever want to skate with anyone but you. It would just feel so…weird and…wrong. You and skating are the best things in my life. I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”
He did know. He got it. And as much as his teenage male brain resisted it, he knew she was probably right. But, oh, her lips were so soft. And her skin…with a sigh he let it go. He still got to touch her on the ice; he’d just have to make do with that for now. But it was always going to be complicated.
“I love you Tessa, whether we’re together together or not. And maybe it’s not worth the risk. But here’s the thing. If we aren’t together, is there going to be a day when you get a boyfriend?” Ugh, he didn’t even like to think about it. “Or what if I get a girlfriend- wouldn’t that hurt you?”
She wrapped her arms tightly around him and admitted, “I wouldn’t like it very much. Actually I would hate it.” She sighed. “But I think I could handle it, you know…as long as I knew you still liked me best.” She said the last part with a half-laugh, but Scott wasn’t laughing at all when he rubbed her cold cheek against his. “Of course,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Shaking his head, he leaned back and looked her in the face. “At least now on the ice when they tell me to look at you like I want to kiss you, you’ll know what I’m thinking about.” She swallowed hard, nodded. He rubbed his forehead with one hand and groaned. “Coach is going to be really proud of my new acting skills,” he sighed. She put her head on his chest and laughed.
Older
She’d been worried, a little, about how it would be after that, about seeing him at the rink the next day, but he’d just skated onto the ice, picked her up, spun her around, kissed the top of her head and headed off to talk with their coach, as if the fact that they weren’t secretly kissing anymore made it ok to be more publicly affectionate. After that there were times, just like he’d said, when she knew he was thinking about it, where the look in his eye wasn’t acting at all and it sent a shiver down her spine. She was also pretty sure he picked up on those moments when she leaned into his touch just a fraction too much, or tipped her head a little so that his lips brushed her ear. There were many times when she wouldn’t have said no if he actually had kissed her, but he never did, choosing instead to let the possibility of it constantly simmer between them. Occasionally it got intense enough to be distracting, but mostly it was useful as they got older and learned how to harness the feeling and pour it into their routines. Somehow the crowds and judges could sense the energy between them and responded to it. And whenever the tension got too great, Scott always managed to crack a joke or play up ‘sexy Scott’ to the point where she had to laugh.
She loved it that he made her laugh; he loved it too. Tessa didn’t laugh out loud for just anyone, which made it all the more satisfying when he could get her to dissolve into giggles. It was a few weeks before Nationals and a guest coach had been brought in to help them with their ‘artistry’. His strong Russian accent made it very difficult for him to pronounce the letter “V” and Scott found it hilarious. As the coach worked with Tessa, posing her on the ice, (“Hold your line, Miss Wirtue, your line”) Scott skated into her view, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Tessa snorted. “Miss Wirtue! Zis is not funny, Miss Wirtue!” This was too much for Scott, who had to turn and skate away to hide his laughter. Behind him he could hear Tessa’s laughter feeding off of his, pealing across the ice. The sound warmed his heart.
Two weeks later in competition they were perfection on the ice. Every time Scott reached out his hand it seemed hers was already in it. With every turn he could feel the echo of her next to him, moving precisely in unison. As the last strains of their music faded away the crowd rose for a standing ovation. Taking Tessa’s hand in his, they turned for their scripted bows…but suddenly it didn’t seem like enough. He didn’t want to stand next to her waving; he wanted to look at her. They were still young skaters- the bowing and waving was heavily formalized. But they had just skated their hearts out; surely their coach would understand a little breach in protocol. He stopped waving and tipped his head towards Tessa, brushing some stray hair away from her ear with his hand. The crowd was so loud he had to cup her ear with his fingers. "I sink we did it, Miss Wirtue," he whispered. Tessa's face transformed, from her 'wave at the crowd and smile face' to one of genuine joy and amusement. As she beamed at him, the exhilaration of making Tessa laugh on TOP of the thrill of skating their best was too much for him. Instead of turning her around so they could bow in the other direction he just scooped her up into his arms and buried his face in her neck. The crowd roared as they recognized his genuine emotion. "You're crazy, Scotty," she said in his ear. But her arms were tight around his neck and he could tell she was smiling against his cheek.
Hugging her was addictive, especially because each hug built on the last. Every time he wrapped his arms around her, exhilarated by their performance, the crowd, their connection to each other, it brought back memories of other performances, other glowing moments. Each time they embraced it triggered a rush of emotions, and a contentment that both thrilled and calmed him. He often found himself reaching for her subconsciously, his hand on her leg during interviews or leaning against her while they did paperwork. And although Tessa wasn’t as demonstrative as him, he knew she appreciated their physical connection too. The other skaters called them ‘handsy,’ which just made him laugh. How could you be an ice dancer and NOT be handsy? The difference for them was everything that was packed into those touches, how much history was represented by each one. He and Tessa had been touching each other for so many years. They had laughed, cried, fought, napped, worked…been together for twenty years and each touch between them elicited the quiet hum of belonging to another person. ‘Handsy’ didn’t even begin to cover it. Sometimes when he found himself reaching out for her for no particular reason, he wondered what their future together held. But it didn’t really matter, because they would be together. Of course.