Chapter Text
The story went like this: His aunt Carol was coaching them both individually, and she thought they would be good dance partners. They agreed to try it out, and, well, the rest is history.
Nothing about the story wasn't true, but he liked to think that, aunt Carol aside, they would have ended up together anyway. He didn't usually believe in fate, but when it came to him and Tessa, he would always believe they were drawn together by some invisible force of inevitability.
His story went like this:
Small town, small rink. His family seemed to know everyone in Ilderton, and perhaps they did. On his part, he knew everyone at the rink, from the kindergarteners in group lessons to the most competitive skaters—like his brother Danny and cousin Sheri—aiming for nationals and higher.
He was just little Scott, well past the stage of being a beginner but without much interest in taking competition any more seriously. He was a Moir, so he had to skate—that was the way it was—but he just wanted to do it for fun.
At nine years old, he was skating singles, but he had always wondered what it would be like to skate pairs. He'd told his aunt he wanted to try it out, so she'd found him a partner. Immediately, they hadn't gotten along, she had quit skating after a few weeks, and he'd returned to singles. He would never skate pairs again, he decided.
(Ice dance, though—he certainly wasn't opposed. Danny and Sheri made it look so easy, so elegant, and he watched them with fascination every time they dropped by the rink during the weekend open skate. They always looked like they were having so much fun, and he wondered what it would be like to have a true partner, a best friend to dance with.)
That weekend, Danny and Sheri were out competing, but the rink was lively with enough energy that only Scott noticed their absence. The music playing was a selection of standard Skate Canada dance music—no one brought their own CDs, apparently—and as far as he could see, everyone on the ice was ignoring it, himself included. The prescribed rhythms and simple melodies were far too familiar, so he glided along the edge of the rink with his own made-up rhythms in his head.
He noticed that most of the skaters today were teenagers or adults, and he felt awfully small compared to them. There was only one other kid, a girl two years younger but just as good, maybe even better at skating than him. He knew her name—Tessa—and he knew that his aunt was coaching her in singles, too. She also did ballet, and he'd heard that she was aiming for the National Ballet School. He wondered if she ever considered ice dance, or if she preferred dancing alone, off the ice.
Something about the way she strode gracefully across the ice drew him to her. She was the smallest person there, smaller than him, but she carried a quiet confidence and precision with every movement. It was just a simple foxtrot, but she looked dead serious about following along with the music playing, which was a slowed arrangement of a song from some old movie (he couldn't remember which one).
Continuing to follow the edge of the rink, he sped up in his stride, feeling the way his newly sharpened skates cut cleanly against the ice and the cool air rushed against his face. Steadying himself by placing a hand against the boards, he slowed to a stop as she headed in his direction, but she didn't seem to notice him.
"Hey, Tessa," he said, raising a hand to wave.
She looked up and glanced behind him, searching for who might've called her name—thinking it was someone she knew, probably. Seeing no one, she furrowed her brow until she spotted him, now standing almost face-to-face.
"You're a really good dancer," he said, and she smiled. "Have you ever done ice dance?"
She shook her head. "I want to. My coach is trying to find me a partner," she said, then paused. "You're…?"
"Scott," he supplied. "My aunt's your coach, actually."
Her face lit up with recognition. "Scott Moir," she said with a slight nod. It felt like approval, somehow.
He looked down to where she was absentmindedly digging her toe pick into the ice. It was rhythmic, in a way, and she swayed side to side just slightly. He looked back up to find that her head was ducked, seemingly lost in thought—or concentration.
Just as he began to focus on her subtle movements, she threw an arm out to the side, turning effortlessly in place. The motion was perfectly in time with the growing music playing around them, and only then did he realize that she had been working through a dance this whole time.
"Have you done this dance?" he asked, and her gaze snapped back up to meet his.
"This…? Oh," she said, her cheeks turning a little pink, "no. I've only ever done singles. I know some of the dances from watching the older juniors here."
She must've had an impressive memory, he thought.
"The juniors, like my brother!"
She looked surprised for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Your brother—Danny Moir?"
He nodded. "Yup!"
"Oh," she said softly, looking at him in awe. "He's a really good dancer."
Scott grinned with pride. "And he's good at doing lifts!"
"Lifts seem like so much fun," she said with a small, wistful smile. "I think it would feel like flying."
He eyed her carefully, then shrugged. "I could lift you," he said with an air of confidence. "I'm pretty strong."
She smiled lopsidedly, skeptical yet amused. "I don't think so—oh!"
He wrapped his arms clumsily around her small body, secured his grasp, and lifted with all his might. It certainly wasn't graceful, and he wasn't sure if he'd even lifted her a centimetre off the ice for half a second. He realized he was holding his breath, so he exhaled once she was securely back on two feet.
"Guess I'm not as strong as Danny," he muttered, blushing, and she laughed.
She craned her neck to look behind him, distracted, and he turned around to see a woman—her mom, he thought—smiling and waving at them. He waved back, because that was the polite thing to do, and Tessa skated to his other side to get closer.
"I have to go now," she said, turning so that she could look at both him and her mom, then she turned around. "Bye, Scott."
"Bye, Tessa! I hope my aunt finds you a partner," he called as she skated away. She acknowledged him with a small wave as she exited the rink.
It wasn't until after she'd left that he realized that he had never done ice dance before, either, and he really, really wanted to try.
So the very next day, he told his aunt Carol. When she asked him why, an image of brown curls and green eyes flashed in his mind, but he just told her that he wanted to try what Danny was doing. She considered for a moment, looked him up and down, then told him she had a potential partner for him: a seven-year-old girl named Tessa.
They agreed to try it out, and, well, the rest is history.