Work Text:
❤ ✿ ❤ ✿ ❤
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Lydia says, rubbing her mittens together. She did not dress for this. She’d pulled on her black tights, her favourite green dress, and a light sweater that didn’t even close with a zipper or buttons. Lydia had taken the time to do her hair so it’s a perfect french braid. She’s sure it’s already a mess.
With her little black boots on, she carefully steps towards Boyd. Her eyes meet his in surprise when she almost slips. His big hand catches her elbow and he pulls her in closer to him. Lydia inhales, because the damn cold makes it harder to breathe. It has nothing to do with the fact that Boyd smells like a man. Whatever that really means anyway. “Whoa. You okay?”
Lydia’s heart pounds a little faster and she nods. “Yeah.”
He gives her a smile before asking, “You ready?”
“No,” she mumbles. When he raises an eyebrow at her, she squares her shoulders. “Yes. Where do I step?”
Boyd points out the steps for her to take and holds her hand as she climbs up the Zamboni. When she’s seated properly, Boyd climbs up to sit behind her. He pulls her in close to his body, and she assumes it’s so that he can wrap himself around her to steer.
“Alright,” Boyd says, flicking the Zamboni on. “First off, we never did this or I’ll be so fired and I’d like to own this rink some day.”
Lydia smiles, relaxing now. She eases back into him some more. “Don’t worry; if they threaten to fire you, I’ll make my parents buy it.”
“Perks of dating a rich girl, I suppose,” Boyd says. She laughs unexpectedly. They aren’t dating, not officially anyway. She had watched him on the lacrosse field all season before she realized that Boyd is someone she could see herself with. They had gone out for ice cream a couple of weeks ago - it was to celebrate killing it on their exams, but Lydia had kind of hoped it was a date.
Boyd, she had learned quickly, doesn’t like to rush things. He’s a slow pace kind of guy, and it’s refreshing. Jackson had said the reason none of her relationships worked out is because she had an idea of them in her head and went at it full-speed, only to be disappointed when they didn’t match what she had been thinking it’d be like. So Lydia decided to do things Boyd’s way. She’s not even sure he has a thing for her, but then he said that comment and…well, she has to admit, she has butterflies.
“Alright, we’re good to go. This is to gas–if you take your foot off it or your weight off the seat, the Zamboni will shut off immediately as a safety precaution. Steering is a bit different than a car,” Boyd says, his voice close to her ear. She’s pleased she’d gone with french braids today. It means she can feel his hot breath against her skin. He shows her a very slow turn. “Do you feel it?”
Lydia only nods. She tries to remember if she ever felt this tense when she’d been around Jackson. She can’t pinpoint a moment where she’d ever wanted to rub herself against him - not really, not like she does right now. Lydia shifts her ass on the seat a little, feeling herself move against Boyd. She briefly wonders if she moves against his crotch in the right way.
There’s a little relief in knowing he’s right there. Lydia closes her eyes for a moment because Boyd feels so good wrapped around her like this.
“How are you feeling?” Boyd asks.
She realizes he’s talking about driving the Zamboni. She’s not an idiot. Only instead, she says, “I’m a little chilly.”
It’s a lie. She’s hot, hot, hot. But she can’t exactly tell him that.
“You got the wheel?” Boyd asks hers. She nods as she steers it straight across the ice rink. She feels him lean away from her, shuffling around, and then suddenly, a weight is on her shoulders.
Lydia’s surprised to feel Boyd’s warm jacket on top of her. She slips her arms carefully into it as he slips his arms tightly against her waist to reach the steering wheel.
Once she has his jacket on, she sets her hands on top of his. She doesn’t want him to leave her side.
“This is nice,” she tells Boyd after a moment. As much as she would love to get naked with him right now, the fact that he isn’t in a rush to get her naked makes her a little more patient. She’s starting to think this is the slowest she’s ever gone even for sex. Aiden had tried to booty call her a few nights ago, and Lydia had turned him down. She has a feeling that Boyd’s worth the wait and the build-up.
They’re the only ones at the ice rink right now. Boyd is finishing up the ice for the evening after the free skating the rink had offered for a couple of hours. Boyd had asked her to meet him here. She wasn’t sure why but then he asked if she wanted to ride the Zamboni. Normally, an offer like that is something she’d jump at. Only she has a slight irrational fear of heights. She forgets that when Boyd’s resting his chin on her shoulder though.
“It’s relaxing,” he murmurs. “Take your foot off the pedal.”
She does and the machine immediately dies down. It’s not as loud as it was a moment ago. Lydia feels Boyd pull back and she turns to look at him, frowning. He smiles at her.
“You know, I told my friends that we’d been hanging around each other lately and none of them believed me,” Boyd tells her. Her lips part, but she’s not sure what to say to that. He touches under her chin with a curled finger, holding her gaze with his. “I explained to them that we were just friends who had gotten to know each other over a dumb science project.”
“It wasn’t dumb,” Lydia says, sniffing a little. “We won first place at the science convention in town.”
He smiles. “I’m not sure I want to be just friends with you, Lydia Martin.”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything. Jackson had shouted at her that she moves too fast and for once, she might have to agree with him. Because this? This was worth waiting for. This look Boyd is giving her right now, the one that’s filling her chest and overwhelming her? This is what she had been missing.
A smile tugs at her lips. Boyd catches it and the worry eases off his face. Lydia shifts a little more so she has a better angle to look at him from. “I don’t want to be just friends with you either, Vernon Boyd. I’d like to take over the world with you, in fact.”
He laughs. It’s soft enough that she might have missed it. He bobs his head at her. “I’d like that too.”
Lydia leans towards him, eyes fluttering closed, ready to kiss him when the Zamboni suddenly lurches forward. Boyd wraps one arm around her waist, yanking her tight against him, and immediately has his other hand on the steering wheel. Lydia lifts her foot from the peddle.
“Oops.”
Boyd smiles at her and brushes his fingers against her cheek. “I like you like this. Relaxed.”
“Cold,” she teases.
“Well yeah, because then I get to see how good you look in my jacket,” Boyd tells her, moving a little closer. His eyes drop to her lips. “And Lydia? You look really good in my jacket.”
She wants to tease him or swat at his arm flirtatiously. But then his lips are brushing against hers and she’s desperate for more. Lydia smiles the next time Boyd presses his lips lightly against hers.
Her foot presses down on the pedal again so they lurch forward. Boyd laughs and rests his forehead against hers. “Maybe we should do this on the ground. It turns out, you are, in fact, a safety risk on this thing.”
Lydia’s face reddens a little, but she’s sure Boyd will simply relate it to the chill of the ice rink. She lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, you might be onto something.”
“C’mon,” Boyd says. He climbs down the Zamboni and holds a hand out for her. She carefully accepts it and meets him on the ice again. Lydia looks up at him, realizing just how much taller than her he is. He looks down at her, tilting her chin up with his fingers. “Feel better?”
“Much,” she whispers. “Kiss me, Boyd.”
He smiles at her as though he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. Lydia wraps her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes, and pressing herself against his chest. Jackson was wrong about one thing though. He’d claimed to have ruined her for anyone else - to have been her best.
Right here, right now, this is her best kiss. Lydia laughs against his lips when he lifts her up so she can curl her legs around his waist. His big hands are on her waist, holding her steady. When she pulls away, she murmurs, “I can’t believe I almost refused a Zamboni ride. I must be an idiot or something.”
Boyd’s laugh echoes around the ice rink.
❤ ✿ ❤ ✿ ❤