Chapter 9
Hadn't Before
The morning sun filtered through the rink's windows as Emery laced up her skates, ready for yet another grueling practice session. But today, she wasn't prepared for what lay ahead. The usual chill of the rink felt heavier, more charged, as she and Ryder stood side by side, exchanging wary glances.
Today was going to be different.
Their coach, a stern woman with a no-nonsense attitude, had announced the new challenge before the start of practice: "You two have been bickering long enough. It's time you learned what it's like to walk in the other's shoes—or should I say, skate in each other's blades?" She'd crossed her arms, her expression stern. "Ryder, you'll be trying figure skating today. Emery, you're going to endure a hockey drill. If you can survive these exercises, maybe we can get back to the task at hand without all the drama."
Emery's stomach twisted at the thought. She had always avoided hockey drills for a reason: they were loud, chaotic, and involved a lot of contact. The last thing she wanted was to be slammed into the boards by one of Ryder's teammates. As for Ryder, he clearly had no idea what he was getting into with figure skating. His smirk was all cockiness, but she knew it was just a front. The rink wasn't a place for ego—especially when it came to the delicate artistry of figure skating.
Emery sighed, tightening the laces of her boots as she glanced sideways at Ryder, who was busy adjusting the stiff padding of his hockey gear. She fought the urge to smile. Watching him struggle into the gear was oddly satisfying.
"Enjoying the look?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I'm just wondering how you're going to skate in all that. Can't be comfortable," she shot back, her voice far more clipped than she intended.
Ryder rolled his eyes, his grin never wavering. "You think this is bad? Wait until you try the real stuff. You're going to feel like a human wrecking ball with those hockey pads."
Emery snorted, adjusting her gloves. "I can handle it. I'm not the one who's going to be falling all over the ice today."
That was when their coach called them both over, her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line. "Let's see what you've got, shall we?"
Emery couldn't help but watch, bemused, as Ryder took his first tentative steps onto the rink. He had on a pair of figure skates that looked far too pristine, and his heavy hockey jersey seemed out of place in the delicate world of figure skating. He wobbled slightly, glancing over at Emery as if hoping for some guidance.
"Need help?" she asked, her voice a little too sweet for her own liking.
He gave her a sideways glance. "Not from you."
Emery grinned but bit her lip, trying to stifle the laughter bubbling up inside her. She watched as Ryder made his first attempt to glide, his movements awkward and stiff. He couldn't seem to find his balance, stumbling on the smooth surface in an exaggerated way that only made her chuckle.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. With exaggerated confidence, Ryder pushed off and tried to gain speed—only to go straight into a wall, slamming into it with a resounding thud.
Emery blinked, her hand flying to her mouth to suppress the laugh that threatened to escape.
"I totally meant to do that," Ryder said, his voice strained with forced bravado as he pushed himself off the wall.
"Sure you did," Emery teased, watching him attempt to straighten his posture as he attempted to move again, but the result was the same: more wobbles and an ungraceful stumble. He flailed a bit before going down again, his fall exaggerated by his attempt to look more graceful than he was.
Emery couldn't help herself anymore. She burst out laughing, her cheeks pink as she bent over, clutching her stomach.
"You know," Ryder said from the ice, his voice mockingly serious, "I think this sport was made for people who have no fear of looking like complete idiots."
Emery nodded in agreement, still trying to stop laughing. "You're a natural," she said, sarcastic but still unable to completely suppress her amusement.
Ryder stood up, rubbing his knee. "I don't see how you guys make this look so effortless."
"Trust me," Emery said with a smirk, "it's a lot harder than it looks." She wiped away a stray tear of laughter. "You need balance, precision. No slamming into walls or falling over every five seconds."
Ryder smirked back, still not giving up. "I'm just warming up."
After a few more hilarious, albeit frustrating, attempts from Ryder, it was Emery's turn to endure the hockey drills. As she stepped into the thick padding, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was becoming a walking, clunky disaster. The hockey gear was heavy and cumbersome, and the skates were designed for speed, not grace. She had to adjust to the overwhelming weight of the pads and try to get used to the sharp, rapid movement that came with it.
Ryder couldn't hide his grin as he observed her struggling. "Feeling light on your feet?"
"Not exactly," Emery muttered, but she wasn't one to back down. She gave a deep breath and pushed herself onto the ice, hoping the discomfort didn't show. Ryder led her through a few simple drills: skating around cones, maneuvering quickly while trying to avoid being tackled by his teammate.
The first few attempts were a disaster. She stumbled and nearly lost her balance more than once. It was like trying to move through mud in a tank—too slow, too cumbersome.
"Come on, Emery, you've got to move faster!" Ryder shouted from the sideline. "Use your legs, not just your arms. Get those feet moving!"
Emery shot him a glare as she attempted another round of the cones, but it only made her lose focus. As she tried to dodge one of the players, she felt a sharp tug at her side and tumbled forward, sprawling awkwardly on the ice.
Ryder skated over quickly, a smirk on his face. "Need a hand?"
"No thanks," she huffed, pushing herself up with an exaggerated motion. "I'll get it eventually. I just need to get used to these things."
She tried again, this time with more focus, her legs burning as she sped up slightly, but still far slower than she would've liked.
The first few moments of humiliation, laughter, and missteps gave way to a strange sense of camaraderie. Neither of them was perfect, and neither was proud of their attempts, but somehow, the shared struggle was a reminder of how different they really were—and how much more they had to learn from each other.
As Emery stumbled again, Ryder's voice came through unexpectedly, soft yet genuine. "You're doing better than I did on the figure skates."
Emery shot him a look of surprise, but he was already skating away, focusing on his own practice. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized—maybe, just maybe, they were both beginning to understand each other in a way they hadn't before.