Chapter Text
Jamie almost says no when Rebecca first asks.
“You want me to teach people to skate?” She asks, incredulous. When Rebecca, expression sheepish over the phone screen, doesn’t deny it, Jamie continues, “aren’t there other coaches?”
It’s not that Jamie doesn’t like skating. Ice hockey was her escape for years, she wouldn’t have done it for so long if she didn’t love it. It’s not even that she doesn’t like coaching. She’s not ashamed to admit that even though she was reluctant to teach the kids at the rink near the university when she first started, it quickly became one more thing to look forward to every week.
It’s just that it’s been far too long since she last stepped foot on the ice — she faintly recalls Rebecca dragging her to a Christmas celebration at the rink a couple of years back; what is it with Rebecca and constantly dragging her into these things? — and even longer since she last taught anyone to skate.
Surely, she thinks, there has to be someone more qualified than a university-level ice hockey player who only coached part-time to pay off tuition bills and stopped playing altogether after graduation.
“They’re trying but we’re already short on coaches right now. They’re already covering everything they can,” Rebecca explains, apologetic but pleading. Jamie’s hesitation must show, because Rebecca goes on. “Please, Jay, you’re the only other friend I know who’s certified to teach. And you were so good at it, all the kids loved you! I know this is meant to be your break before your shop opens, but I promise it won’t take up too much of your time, it’s just two classes a week. I know you’re not going to sit still for two months anyway.”
It’s not like Jamie can say no to that argument, especially not when her best friend’s miserable and stuck at home with a sprained knee and a pair of crutches. And Rebecca’s right. With the last of Jamie’s landscaping projects completed and her own flower shop only set to open in another two months, she has spare time on her hands. Even if it’s a break she’d prescribed herself, she knows she’s not the kind of person who can sit around doing nothing for that long.
“Fine,” she finally concedes. Immediately, the image on her phone screen goes blurry as Rebecca pumps her fists, and by extension, her phone, in celebration. Jamie has to bite back a smile to roll her eyes instead.
“Thanks, Jay,” Rebecca is still beaming even as she finally calms down. Jamie knows Rebecca would never hold it against her if she’d said no, but she knows she’d made the right choice when she hears the clear relief in her friend’s voice.
“Yeah, yeah. Take care of yourself, alright?”
“You take care too,” and then after a moment, “and have fun. I know you’ve missed it.”
Rebecca’s right about that too, Jamie is realising now. She does miss the ice.
Rebecca explains afterwards: Jamie will be taking over a Saturday morning class for the below-12s, and a Wednesday evening class for adult skaters; both at the beginner’s learn-to-skate level.
The sense of déjà vu that hits her when she enters the arena on Saturday morning for her first class is palpable. Everything looks the same; she can almost see her younger self — angrier and lonelier and finding escape in her sport — running across the rubber floors to avoid being late to training.
Same small cosy management office that she spent too much time in once upon a time. She peaks in and gives Hannah — whose family owns the arena and who took over as manager a year ago — a little wave. They might not be the closest of friends, but Hannah’s always looked out for her, and she’s always glad to see the older woman.
Same little café at the entrance of the building where all the parents sit and wait as they let their children run rampant on the ice. A Batter Place, the sign reads. Jamie snorts. So Owen finally managed to convince Hannah to let him change the café’s name. Good for him.
Same dark grey doors to the locker room; she pushes the left one open, knowing the right one squeaks in a way that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Setting the things she’ll need for the next few weeks down in Rebecca’s locker, she starts to get ready. With her skates laced up, her hair pulled back in a low bun, and the coach’s jacket zipped up, she checks the time.
Fifteen minutes to go. Brilliant. Might as well get some time to warm up first, lest she falls flat on her face in front of a bunch of children.
Being on the ice again is liberating, and it comes back to her as easy as breathing. She takes advantage of the fact that the rink isn’t open to the public yet, taking up as much space as she wants skating laps across the newly resurfaced ice. She’s missed this. The wind on her face as she picks up speed, the feeling of her blades slicing through fresh ice, the adrenaline coursing through her veins – it’s been a while since she’s felt so alive.
When the red numbers on the wall clock indicate that there’s only five minutes left to the start of her first lesson, she moves aside to give the arena staff enough space to set up the barricade separating the third of the rink meant for lessons from the public skating area. Parking herself at the boards next to the entrance of the rink, she takes a quick sip of water and glances through the attendance list and lesson plan.
“You’re not Coach Jessel.”
She looks up — well, more down than up, really — to see a little girl frowning in front of her. The girl, Jamie observes, amused, is dressed head to toe in shades of pink, right down to the sparkly pink blade guards on her skates. She cannot be older than five, but she’s looking at Jamie with such scepticism and suspicion that Jamie finds herself a little impressed.
“No, I’m Jamie,” she chuckles, “Coach Jessel’s injured, so I’ll be your coach for the next few weeks or so. Is that alright?”
The girl seems to consider this for a moment, before giving Jamie one resolute nod, sticking her hand out for Jamie to shake. “I’m Flora. It’s splendid to meet you. Is Coach Jessel alright?”
“Yeah, kiddo, she’s doing okay. Just needs to rest for a few weeks and she’ll be back in no time.”
“Can I draw her a card?”
“Of course, I’ll pass it to her for you,” Jamie answers, already fond of the girl for her thoughtfulness. Flora seems to light up at her response, beaming as she reaches down to slide her guards off. “Well, go on then. You get the ice all to yourself till everyone else’s here. Warm up for a bit.”
She’s a little worried at first, watching Flora enter the rink, unsure if the tiny girl can handle herself on her own. It turns out her concern is unwarranted, however, when Flora zips past her, more than happy to skate circles by herself.
The other children eventually start arriving, and Jamie checks their names off the attendance list as she introduces herself and explains Rebecca’s absence. When the last of her new students arrive, she takes one last look at the list, trying to commit each of their names to memory and matching them to the correct child.
Miles, she remembers, the quiet one wearing the blue jumper with a sailboat printed on it. He’s the only one of the lot in hockey skates, and she cannot help but feel a little proud of that.
Abigail, the girl with the bowl cut, fully decked out in elbow guards, knee guards, wrist guards, and a helmet.
Isabel, hair braided neatly, skates white and pristine, the oldest of the group.
The Crain twins; Luke with his glasses, and Nell with her jumper equally as bright and pink as Flora’s jacket, skating together wobbly and hand-in-hand in their rentals.
And of course, Flora, the smallest and the youngest, who looks positively like she’s about to explode with excitement waiting for the class to start.
Here goes then, she thinks, taking a deep breath before pushing off the boards to join the gaggle of children on centre ice.
The next half hour is spent leading the kids around the ice, showing them how to slowly swizzle backwards, how to do a C-cut, how to glide carefully on one foot along the lines on the rink. They’re sort of adorable, she admits, all bundled up and stumbling around like little penguins. She holds their hands as they try to imitate her shakily, picks them up when they inevitably fall, and claps along every time they celebrate after successfully grasping something new.
Flora, in particular, seems absolutely fearless — throwing herself into every new move without hesitation and laughing when she falls. The other children are a bit more tentative, but they’re making good progress, and Jamie finds herself thinking that it won’t be so bad doing this for the next few weeks.
The time passes quickly, and before she knows it, she’s waving goodbye to the children as she opens up a section of the barricade, watching as they join the public for their usual two hours of practice time after class. After a high-five to Luke and a hug from both Nell and Flora, she locks the barricade shut and skates back to the boards to greet the five parents waiting at the side of the rink.
Flora’s mother, though, is nowhere to be found.
She spends some time catching up with Hannah at the arena’s café afterwards. It’s nice, she finds, to talk to Hannah again now that they’re both older. And it’s nice too, of course, to let Owen spoil them with his cakes and pastries. She’s willing to let him make an occasion out of what he’s calling her return to the rink — god, that sounds like the title of a bad movie — if it means that he continues to bring sweets to their table.
It’s in the middle of a conversation about the games Jamie played in the four years she spent away at university that Flora walks into the café with a blonde woman in tow.
The woman, Jamie cannot help but notice, is beautiful — all soft blonde waves and gorgeous blue eyes. Flora looks like she’s in the middle of a dramatic recounting, and when the woman grins down at the girl, Jamie finds herself having to bite back a smile of her own.
Beside her, Hannah realises what Jamie is looking at and makes a noise of recognition.
“Ah, Flora’s mother,” Hannah sounds delighted to see her, and it’s all the warning she gets before Flora spots them and starts to weave her way through the tables and chairs to find her way over, tugging her mother along the whole way.
“Mummy, Mummy! This is Coach Jamie! She’s the coolest ,” Flora’s voice carries across the small café space.
A small part of Jamie is amused by how quickly the girl has taken to her now, especially after her initial sceptical discovery that Jamie was not Rebecca. The bigger part of her, however, is working to maintain her composure as Flora and her mother reach their table.
“Dani,” the woman introduces herself, still grinning as she reaches out to shake Jamie’s hand.
American. Jamie feels her eyebrow raise in response for a second, curious.
“I’m Jamie.”
“I’ve heard,” Dani whispers conspiratorially, glancing towards Flora, who’s run off to the counter to buy a cookie, and then back at her. Jamie cannot help but chuckle in response.
Dani turns to catch up with Hannah, and up close, Jamie is suddenly struck by a sense of familiarity. She’s seen Dani somewhere before, she knows. But where?
Not only is Dani beautiful, her accent also makes her stand out like a beacon, and Jamie’s sure she would’ve remembered if she’d met her.
Dani doesn’t seem to notice her internal struggle when she turns back to her, because she continues to speak. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there after class. I usually am, just had work in the morning this weekend.”
“Nah, it’s all good. Just wanted to say hi in case any parents wonder why I’m suddenly taking over for Becca.”
“How is she, by the way? What happened?” Dani’s brow is furrowed in concern, her voice gentle, and Jamie immediately sees where Flora gets it from.
“Fell, landed wrong, sprained her knee.”
“Ouch, that must hurt. Same thing happened to me, but that was years ago. If she needs recommendations for physio, though, I’d be happy to help.”
“You skate?” She asks, surprised.
“Used to,” Dani gives her a small smile, but there’s something in her eyes that tells Jamie there’s more to the story. Before she can formulate a response though, Flora comes bounding back with a chocolate chip cookie as big as her face.
Later, after Dani and Flora take their leave, she turns to Hannah and frowns. “I don’t know why she seems so familiar.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Hannah chuckles.
If Jamie had been paying more attention, she would have noticed that Hannah sounded far too amused; but as it stands, she’s too busy trying to work out at which point in her life she’s seen Dani before, the frustration of almost but not quite being able to place something creeping up on her.
She mentions it to Rebecca that night over video call as she updates her on how the class went.
(“Felt like a duck with a bunch of ducklings,” she grumbles.
Rebecca sees right through her, howling with laughter. “You liked it, didn’t you? Jamie Taylor! Admit it!”
“Ducklings,” she emphasises, knowing that she isn’t convincing anyone.)
“Hey, Becca, do we know a Dani?”
Rebecca’s gone to the same schools as Jamie almost all her life, even trained at all the same rinks, so she figures that if anyone was to know where she’s seen Dani before, it would be Rebecca.
Rebecca pauses, lips curling into a smirk like she knows something; like she’s been waiting the entire call for this question to come up. “Flora’s mum, Dani?”
“Yeah. I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before, but I just can’t place it,” she groans.
If anything, Rebecca’s smile only widens. “Dani Clayton, isn’t it?”
Jamie, vaguely recalling Flora’s last name from the attendance list, nods.
Rebecca responds with a noncommittal hum. “Dani’s short for Danielle, I think.”
It only serves to make her more confused; she frowns at Rebecca, feeling like she’s missed something entirely. “Do we know a Danielle Clayton?”
“Danielle Clayton,” Rebecca repeats. Pauses for Jamie to respond. When Jamie doesn’t, she continues, with an air of casual indifference, “maybe you could search her up?”
Jamie is immediately sceptical, narrowing her eyes at Rebecca, who only shrugs in response. Still, she picks up her phone and keys Dani’s name into the search bar, eyebrows raising when Danielle Clayton appears on the drop-down list before she’s done typing.
What she finds makes her stop short.
There, printed clear as day at the top of the search engine page, together with a picture of the woman Jamie had just met in the afternoon — the woman, Jamie reminds herself, whose daughter she is meant to be coaching for the foreseeable future: Danielle Clayton, American Figure Skater.
And below, in smaller text: Danielle Clayton is a retired American figure skater. She is a three-time U.S. national champion, and a one-time world bronze medallist.
What. The. Fuck.
“You didn’t think to tell me that I’d have to teach the U.S. national champion’s daughter?!”
Jamie would not admit it if anyone asked, but she does spend a good amount of time, after her very enlightening call with Rebecca, watching Dani Clayton’s old figure skating programs.
She doesn’t want to pry – intentionally stays away from the articles and interviews and Wikipedia pages that she’s sure will have Dani’s life story splashed out in obscene detail. At the back of her mind, the look on Dani’s face lingers. Used to , Dani had said when asked whether she skated.
Dani, who looks like she should only be retiring from competitive figure skating at her current age and not years ago. Dani, who instead, is living in Bly, of all places, and spends her weekends bringing her five-year-old daughter to the local rink for skating lessons that she herself is surely more than capable of giving.
There’s a story there, Jamie knows, and it’s one she refuses to be privy to without permission.
The old figure skating programs, however, she gives in to her curiosity and lets herself watch.
Dani is brilliant. It’s evident from the moment the music starts; she seems to come alive on the ice. She’s only sixteen in the first video Jamie sees — a free skate to Romeo and Juliet at one of the junior competitions — but her technique is impeccable. Her jumps are high, her spins don’t travel, her edges are deep and clean. She skates beautifully, and it’s clear from the line of her body that she is in complete control of every part, right down to the placement of her fingertips.
And yet, once the music stops, Jamie cannot shake the feeling that something is missing. The girl on screen is not quite Dani . Not quite as open, as comfortable as the woman Jamie met in the afternoon. Not quite as happy, Jamie finds herself musing, watching as Dani, on screen, gives the audience a tentative smile from her ending position. She looks so small stepping into the kiss and cry, so afraid of finding out her own scores, that it’s hard to spot any trace of grown-up Dani in her.
Dani places first for that competition. Even then, she doesn’t smile. The palpable relief on her face is almost painful to watch.
Still, Jamie spends the better part of an hour watching video after video, and by the end, she has her favourites. Dani’s competitive programs are consistently and technically brilliant, but Jamie stops watching them after the first few, not wanting to see the way her face falls every time the music ends. She turns to Dani’s exhibition and ice show performances instead — the non-competitive ones that give her the freedom to do whatever she wants. Fewer tricks, certainly, but much more Dani , she concludes.
There’s one, in particular, to the acoustic version of Sam Smith’s Latch. Dani is in a pink dress with triangular panels and cutouts and a mesh skirt, and she looks beautiful. She’s so expressive and has such a strong connection with the music, it feels like a story unfolding out into the open on the ice for everyone to see. There’s something almost sublime, Jamie thinks, in watching Dani when she gets lost in her craft.
Another performance at an ice show, to the soundtrack from Amelie. It’s such a pretty, almost magical piece of music, and Dani looks so happy skating to it — her movements delicate and light — that it makes Jamie smile.
The last one Jamie watches makes her eyebrows raise the moment the video plays. Unlike the flowy, rhinestone-embellished dresses she’s seen Dani perform in thus far, Dani enters the rink in a faux leather jacket and a pair of pants in the same material. The music starts out slow — a chilling and haunting melody that Dani savours. And then there’s a pause; a moment of still anticipation. On screen, Dani stops in the centre of the rink, pulls herself taller, and looks straight at the audience. The corners of her lips quirk up just the slightest. Her hands come up to her jacket collar, and Jamie’s eyes widen as she watches Dani drag the zipper down to reveal the black cropped tank top underneath. The beat drops, and the music continues, fast and fierce. Dani tosses the jacket to the boards as she skates past, and never misses a beat.
Jamie’s still wide-eyed when the screen goes dark four minutes later. Somewhere between shock and delight, she lets out a disbelieving huff of laughter.
Dani Clayton, she thinks, who the hell knew?
It won’t do her any good to keep thinking about Dani; no good for her or her coaching. It’s what she tells herself as she closes the tabs of Dani’s figure skating videos and goes on with her week.
She checks in on The Leafling, pleased to see the progress that the contractors are making with doing up the shop. She checks in on Rebecca, bringing her dinner that she does not cook by herself. Rebecca’s already injured, she does not need to be poisoned too. Besides passing on Dani’s message about physiotherapy, she keeps her mouth staunchly shut about the whole matter.
By Wednesday’s lesson, she almost manages to forget about it. Almost.
She’s expecting it to be an easier class to teach. They’re learning crossovers this week — nothing too complicated — and the students are old enough to listen and practise by themselves. She doesn’t need to worry so much; doesn’t need to keep as wary an eye on them as she did on six eager kids.
What she isn’t expecting, however, is for a tiny blur to rush past and stop right in front of her as soon as she steps into the building.
It’s Flora, she realises, to her surprise. And Flora isn’t wearing pink; an even greater surprise.
“Hi Coach Jamie!” Flora throws her arms around Jamie’s waist, ever exuberant.
“Flora? What are you doing here?”
“I come here every week! To practice!” Flora grins up from where she’s still wrapped around Jamie’s lower half like a koala.
But if Flora’s here, Jamie mentally connects the dots, that must mean—
Dani Clayton.
Dani, who is currently walking over, and who — there’s no other way to describe it — lights up when she meets Jamie’s eyes. For a moment, Jamie does forget about everything else, distracted by the brightness of her smile.
And then she remembers – Dani Clayton, Flora’s mother, U.S. national champion. Right. Get it together, Jamie.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she says once Dani is near enough to hear.
“Hi, sorry about that,” Dani’s still grinning when she comes to a stop next to Flora, who by now has finally let go of Jamie to take her mother’s hand instead.
“Nah, s’all good. Could do worse than being tackled by wee gremlins.”
“I’m not a gremlin!” Flora’s affronted outburst has both Jamie and Dani laughing in fond affection.
Jamie watches as Dani kneels down so that she’s at eye-level with Flora, reaching out to gently brush the girl’s hair out of her face. “Alright, not a gremlin then. But don’t run off by yourself like that without asking, okay? And remember not to leave your bag lying around next time.”
“Sorry Mummy, I just got really happy to see Coach Jamie.”
“That’s okay,” Dani gives her a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m happy to see her too.”
It’s dreadfully annoying, Jamie thinks, how her face betrays her, lips immediately curling up without her thinking.
As Dani stands up again, Jamie schools her expression into one of careful neutrality. “Well, uh, have fun then! I suppose I’ll see you both around. Got a lesson to prepare for and all that.”
Flora, however, is having none of that. Jamie watches as Flora, with her natural flair for theatrics, drops her jaw in abject horror, her eyes going wide as she rushes to tug at Jamie’s hand. “No, don’t go yet, Coach Jamie! Won’t you sit with us? It’ll be just splendid if we could sit together, don’t you think?”
Dani flushes, but before she can scramble forward to pull Flora away and tell her not to disturb Jamie, Jamie is bending down to talk to Flora.
“Sorry, kiddo, I’ve got to head to the locker rooms to get ready,” She pauses when she sees Flora’s face fall, “but what if,” – and perk up again – “I let you come into the locker room to put your skates on instead? Only if your mum agrees, of course.”
It’s comical, really, how fast Flora’s head whips around to look at Dani for approval.
When Dani nods and Flora runs along ahead of them, dragging her roller skate bag behind her, Jamie frowns. “It’s really hard to say no to her.”
Dani chuckles at that. “Tell me about it.”
The locker room is simple – blue metal lockers against white walls, with benches in the centre of the room and a water dispenser at the side – but it’s not open to the public. Jamie remembers thinking it was the coolest place when she was allowed inside for the first time as a kid.
Flora, clearly, shares the same sentiment, quickly depositing her bag in a corner, delaying putting her skates on in favour of wandering around the room to explore.
“You’re not skating with her?” Jamie asks, focused on double-knotting her laces as Dani sits cross-legged beside her on the bench.
“Nah, I’m gonna do some work. Got papers to grade,” the little nugget of information catches Jamie’s attention; Dani’s a teacher now? “Just here to make sure she doesn’t watch someone throw doubles and knock her teeth out trying to follow what they’re doing.”
“…Has that happened before?”
“It’s how I lost my first tooth.”
Jamie’s head snaps up to look at Dani, incredulous. “For real?”
Dani only nods, and Jamie lets out a loud laugh. When she doesn’t stop, Dani uses the sleeve of her oversized jumper to whack her on the shoulder.
Reigning in her amusement, Jamie stands up and tugs on her coach’s jacket. “Want some tea while you make sure Flora doesn’t turn into Toothless the Dragon?”
“You’ve seen How to Train Your Dragon?” It’s Dani’s turn to look delighted.
“Shut up, it’s a good movie,” Jamie grumbles, doing a spectacularly bad job at biting back her own smile. “Do you want tea or not? I’m going to get some from the management office.”
“No thank you, haven’t quite gotten the hang of tea yet. If you have coffee though?”
Jamie wrinkles her nose. “You yanks and your coffee.”
Dani only grins at her. Jamie rolls her eyes, but they both know it’s innocuous.
“Fine, I’ll be back with your terrible coffee.”
The Wednesday class is an easy one to conduct. It’s a small class, with only five students, and they’re all relatively fast learners.
It would, however, be a lot easier if Jamie didn’t have to constantly remind herself not to look up to where Dani’s sitting on the stands, stack of papers in her lap and styrofoam cup at her side.
And that, in turn, would be a lot easier if Dani was focused on her own work; if Jamie could not feel her looking up, eyes darting between watching out for Flora and looking right at Jamie; if Dani didn’t offer a smile or wave every time their eyes met.
All things considered, however, it’s a good first lesson with a new group of people, and Jamie’s satisfied with herself when she dismisses them. It’s when she’s opening the barricade up for the students to join the public that she spots Flora on the other side, picking herself up from where fell on the ice.
Quickly, she locks the barricade behind her and skids to a practised stop beside the girl. “Flora? You alright?”
Flora gives her two thumbs-ups, but her face is scrunched up in concentration. When Jamie looks down, she realises that Flora has her legs crossed one in front of the other, trying her best to mimic what the grownups in the class were just learning.
Like mother, like daughter , Jamie gathers, amused. Crossovers are fairly basic. It’s probably going to be a good few weeks before the below-12s class is going to get there, but it’s highly unlikely Flora’s going to get injured trying to figure it out by herself. Still, Jamie figures she should help anyway.
“C’mon, I’ll show you,” she holds her hand out, and feels her heart grow three sizes when Flora lights up and slots her glove-clad hand in hers.
Later, when she’s done leading Flora around the circles on the rink and the girl’s doing crossover after crossover by herself, albeit a bit shakily, Jamie finally turns to exit the rink. Except, the seat Dani is occupying is right in front of the little opening at the boards, and she’s looking at her with the softest expression on her face.
“Thanks for helping her,” Dani gives her a small smile when she steps off the ice.
Leaning on the boards, she bends down to slide her blade guards on with one hand, waving Dani off with the other. “Nah, it’s nothing.”
“No, really,” Dani, eyes wide and earnest, places a hand on Jamie’s arm, “thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Couldn’t let her go home without her front teeth now, could I?”
Dani chuckles at that, then pauses for a long moment to regard Jamie. “You’re a great coach, I hope you know that. I’m glad it’s you who’s covering for Rebecca.”
“That’s certainly high praise coming from you.”
“What, because I’m a teacher?” Dani’s nose scrunches up when she’s amused, Jamie notes.
“I was thinking more on the lines of U.S. national champion, but that too.”
Some part of Jamie realises that in the back of her mind, she’d been worried about how to bring it up, unsure whether she was supposed to know who Dani was – whether Dani thought she knew. She’d been expecting an awkward conversation, but just like that, it’s out in the open.
The only indication of Dani’s surprise is the second-long pause in the conversation, her eyebrows raising slightly. She shrugs. “Had to make the missing tooth worth it.”
And then they’re laughing, the tension is Jamie’s chest dissolving immediately. It’s dangerous, Jamie thinks, how much and how quickly this woman has made her laugh in the short amount of time she’s known her.
“Wasn’t sure if you knew,” Dani says.
“Wasn’t sure if you wanted me to know. Didn’t realise it at first, to be honest. Becca clued me in after the first lesson. Would’ve appreciated if she gave me a little more warning though,” she grumbles.
“For what?” One side of Dani’s lips quirks up. It’s not a look she’s seen on Dani’s face before; Jamie prepares herself for what’s coming. “So you could impress me?”
Jamie’s eyebrows lift. It’s a wonder to watch Dani Clayton reveal more and more sides of herself, and cheeky Dani, Jamie suspects, might just end up becoming one of her favourites.
“Reckon you’re impressed enough. Apparently, I’m a great coach, y’know?” She winks, and just as she turns to leave, she sees Dani shake her head in mirth.
Dani’s eyes follow her all the way back to the locker room, and her laughter lingers the rest of the night.
“I’m still mad you didn’t tell me about Dani, but it’s a good thing she’s nice.”
“Mhmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”
Jamie’s eyes narrow, scrutinizing the face on her screen sceptically. “Right. I’m just saying, this could’ve turned out terribly–“
Jamie goes on, and Rebecca listens, amused. Getting Jamie to cover her classes, Rebecca reckons, might turn out to be one of her best decisions yet.