chapter ELEVEN
My bag rests at my feet as I sit on the curb outside our house waiting for Shane to get home so we can leave for our weekend trip to northern Wisconsin. He's coming from his apartment downtown and we're going to ride with his parents and meet the rest of his friends up at the cabin.
I glance down at the clock on my phone and let out a sigh. He's almost half an hour later than he said he'd be, and after the day I had, I could really use the boost I always seem to find when he's around. But him not being here -- and not even sending a text to let me know how late he's running -- isn't doing a whole lot to help.
I'm glaring down the street, waiting for his familiar blue Toyota to turn the corner, when my dad opens the front door to our house and walks out to join me at the curb.
"Still nothing?" he asks.
I sigh. "No, Dad. I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Why don't you walk down the street and ask Joe what's going on?"
I stare at him. "Are you crazy?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"I'm not going to ask Shane's dad why his son is standing me up."
Dad opens his mouth to respond when my phone buzzes in my lap and Shane's name lights up the caller ID.
"Hold on," I say to my father. "Hello?"
"Natalie! I'm really sorry. Practice ran long," Shane says breathlessly. "I'm leaving the rink right now."
"How much longer?" I ask.
Even though this delay apparently isn't his fault -- and now it makes sense why he hadn't been able to let me know what the hold up was -- I'm still ticked off about it.
"I'll be there in fifteen," he promises. "Ten if I speed."
"Speed."
He laughs then goes silent when I don't join him. "Okay. I'll see you in a little bit."
"Okay. Bye."
I disconnect the call and look over at Dad, who's staring back at me with a frown.
"Everything alright, Natbat?"
"It's fine. He'll be here soon. Practice ran late."
Dad raises his eyebrows but says nothing else about it. "Okay. Have a great time this weekend and let us know when you get up there safe. Joe said cell reception can be spotty but give it a shot, okay? For your old man."
I nod. "Sure, Dad. See you Sunday night."
He turns and walks into the house, leaving me to sit on the curb and wait for Shane alone.
***
It's closer to twenty minutes by the time Shane's car finally turns onto our street and cruises to a rest in front of my house. He almost drives straight past me to his own place but stops short when I stand up and flag him down.
That's only mildly embarrassing.
"Hey!" he says as I lift the lid of the trunk to toss my bag in. "I'm really sorry."
I shut the door and get into the front seat before I respond. "Don't worry about it."
He glances over at me before shifting the car out of park and driving the few feet down to his own house.
"You okay, Natalie?"
I smirk. It's the second time someone's asked me that in the last half hour.
"I'm fine."
"I really am sorry I didn't tell you I was running late," he says. "Coach wasn't in a good mood. I even asked him if I could run out really quick to let my parents know and he wouldn't let me."
I sigh. I'm not even sure why I'm so cranky about this -- maybe it's just a combination of things and it's easiest to take it out on Shane because he's here...and because I know he isn't going anywhere.
"It's not a big deal," I say, and try to convince myself that I mean it. And even if I don't, I hope I can at least start acting like I do.
Shane parks in his driveway and shuts off the car's engine.
"Hope you don't mind riding up in the backseat," he says. "My dad wants to drive."
Before I can say anything, Shane's parents walk out onto their front porch, bags in hand. They say hello, add their luggage to ours and climb into the car.
Shane looks at me over the roof and winks before we get into the backseat together.
"All aboard!" Mr. Stanford says once the car doors closed. "Next stop: Magic Kingdom."
Mrs. Stanford chuckles quietly next to her husband but Shane just groans. His dad shoots him a look in the rearview mirror.
"Just a little family tradition," he says, glancing over his shoulder at me as he backs out of the driveway.
"My dad does the same kind of thing."
Mr. Stanford smiles and nods. "That doesn't surprise me."
I'm not sure what to say to that so I don't say anything at all. It's then that I realize I'm about to be stuck in a car for the next four hours or so with Shane and his family. I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do next -- if they aren't going to talk, I'm definitely not going to be the one who pipes up and ruins the silence.
I reach into my bag and pull out my phone and a set of earbuds, and I can feel Shane's eyes on me the whole time. I glance over at him and he smiles before digging his own phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.
I'm staring out the window, wondering what the heck I'm supposed to do for the next four hours when my phone vibrates in my lap.
Sorry it's weird in here.
I look over at him and he's smiling back at me. Shane shrugs apologetically, lightly biting down on the left corner of his lip. The effect is adorable, and I can't keep a grin from spreading across my face as I type out a response to his text, my earlier irritation with him fading.
You're taking me SKIING. I can suffer thru the car ride.
It's kind of weird texting someone who's sitting right next to me. I can't help but glance over at him to gauge his response to my incoming message. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention to the screen.
Bet you're a natural ;) You are at hockey.
Only bc I have a great teacher!
You're right. I guess I do get to take some credit.
Nah, Coach D is the best :)
A small laugh escapes his lips when he reads my text message and his mom glances back over her shoulder.
"Everything okay back there?" she asks.
"Oh, it will be," he replies. "Just have to sort someone out." It's my turn to try and hide my grin. Mrs. Stanford raises her eyebrows and turns her attention back to the road in front of her.
Looks like I'll be taking early retirement then
Leaving your client in a pinch? Not very professional Mr. Stanford...
Doesn't sound like she needs me anymore...
I fight to control my reaction as I read this text. I don't want to look over to see if he's watching me, and I definitely don't want him to realize I'm wondering if his message applies to more than just my training on the ice.
You'll have to ask her to be sure but I think she'd rather be safe than sorry
There. The perfect response. If I'm reading way too much into his comment and he's only talking about hockey (likely), then it works beautifully. But if he had a little subtle meaning to his text, well, I think my answer is relaxed enough not to be too enthusiastic but not bland enough that he might think I'm disinterested.
Whew.
Texting a guy you're pretty sure you adore is not easy work.
Guess my retirement can wait a few more days
Probably for the best.
You should nap. My friends def don't plan on sleeping when we all get up there
I try not to let disappointment cloud my face. I'm liking our secret back-and-forth texting while his parents sit right up front, just a ruler's length away from us.
Seriously. I'm going to.
I nod at the follow-up text as my phone vibrates in my lap before looking over at him. He grins at me, closes his eyes, folds his hands underneath his chin and mimics excessive snoring.
I clap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing when he opens his eyes and winks at me. My heart flutters erratically at that simple gesture as I tuck my phone back into my bag and shut my eyes, ready to take his advice.
We have all weekend to talk and laugh and be silly together, so what's a few hours of rest before the real fun gets started?
Besides, I'm pretty sure this weekend is going to be amazing.
***
The shift in road from gravel to hard, crunchy snow stirs me out of my sleep a couple of hours later. I blink a few times to clear the slumber from my eyes and blearily glance out the car window.
And it's like we've suddenly come to another country all together.
There had been a light layer of snow on the ground in Madison when we left this afternoon, but it's nothing like what surrounds me now, and even though it's still a little hard for me to admit, it's absolutely gorgeous here.
It's dark out -- almost nine o'clock -- but the two-story "cabin" with a stone and wooden front is lit up and casts a calming, warming glow on the snow outside. The contrast of the lights with the night sky and white snow creates an effect that makes me feel like I'm in Aspen or Vail instead of northern Wisconsin.
Smoke puffs out of the tall, stone chimney and the two-story, floor-to-ceiling glass windows reveal a cozy-looking wooden interior with a tall, spiraling staircase in the middle of the living room.
I turn to Shane only to find that he's looking at me with an amused smile on his face.
"What do you think?" he asks as the car crawls up the driveway closer to the house.
"You call that a cabin?"
He laughs. "It's been in our family forever."
Mr. Stanford puts the car in park. "Everybody out! Magic Kingdom."
We all hop out and by the time I break my spell and stop staring at the cabin in front of me, Shane's already got my bag slung over his shoulder.
"Come on, I'll show you the place."
"You know, you still didn't answer my question."
"And what question is that?"
"This is more like a palace than a cabin."
"We may have made some upgrades to the place after my dad inherited it from my grandparents," he says with a sheepish grin.
"It's beautiful."
"Even if it's in Wisconsin?"
I make a face at him. "Even if it's in Wisconsin."
"Sometimes you surprise me, Nat," he says without any hint of teasing or insincerity in his voice.
I look up at him but he isn't meeting my gaze. He's definitely surprised me with that comment. I don't say anything as he leads me up the stone staircase and onto the covered front porch where thick icicles hang off the roof. He pushes open the front door and I suck in my breath as I step inside for the first time.
It's every bit the fairy tale cabin/palace on the inside as it looks like it'd be on the outside.
The chimney I'd seen connects to a gorgeous stone fireplace that takes up half of one of the wood-paneled walls. A long, dark brown wraparound leather couch sits in front of the fire, a chandelier made out of deer antlers hanging above it.
Black pillars with thick candles that might be as tall as I am decorate the cold-looking hearth, making it look all the more inviting. A giant family portrait rests on the mantle. The cabin is nestled on a small hillside, and the floor-to-ceiling windows show snow-covered ground in every direction with what looks like a small town centered around a lake about a mile or so away.
"Shane, this is...," I trail off.
"Yeah?" he asks, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Stunning. It's stunning."
"It's too much."
"It's perfect."
He glances over at me with a funny look on his face, like he's thinking about saying something before he decides better of it, and I find myself wondering what the heck it is that had been so close to the tip of his tongue.
"Surprised that picture of you doesn't scare off all your guests, though," I say, pointing at the frame on the mantle. For some reason, it feels like the mood's shifted between us and I have the overwhelming urge to lighten it.
"What?"
"That picture. The one on your mantle. I'm surprised it doesn't make all your guests want to leave. Never mind. It was a dumb joke."
He smiles absently. "Very funny. Come on, I'll show you your room."
He's still carrying both of our weekend bags but reaches out and grabs my hand anyway before leading me over to the winding staircase.
"My parents have their bedroom on the first floor and then we have two upstairs," Shane says. "You and the girls will be in one, and I'll be in the other with the guys from the team." He glances over at me. "Hope that's okay."
"I...yeah, of course it is," I reply, surprised by his comment.
I hadn't even given much thought to where I'd sleep; I'd just assumed there was no way Shane's parents would let us sleep in the same room. I don't even know if that's something he'd want right now, anyway.
We reach the top of the stairs and he drops my hand. He opens the door to the first bedroom and lets me go inside first. He tosses his bag down on one of the four twin beds.
"This room is huge."
"We just have the two bedrooms and a bathroom up here," he says. "Makes it easy to invite a lot of people that way. Come on."
After we leave my bag in the next room, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do next.
"Now what?" I ask.
He shrugs. "My parents will probably go to bed but the guys are supposed to be here in a bit. I'll show you the yard."
"The yard?" I repeat.
I'd noticed several cabins -- all as elaborate-looking as the Stanford's -- littering the hillside when we'd pulled up. I didn't think there was much room out back for a yard, but then again, I'd never thought there'd be a day when I'd make a high school hockey team, either.
He jogs down the stairs, through the kitchen and opens a patio door. I walk out onto a wooden deck and he follows me.
"Okay, so maybe I lied about the yard part," he says, sliding the glass door closed behind us. "But I think this is way better."
He points to his left and I notice a big square with steaming come off of it.
"Is that what I think it is?" I ask. "I've missed those."
"Yes ma'am. Your very own hot tub right here at the cabin. Don't even have to go down to the lodge club to use theirs."
"Here? In Wisconsin?"
"Hot tubs aren't native to Arizona, Nat."
I roll my eyes. "I know that. It's just, you know, cold here." I tighten the giant puffy ski jacket my mom had gotten for me the day before we left. Apparently, Shane had informed me this week, my calf-length coat wasn't exactly ideal for skiing.
"Didn't you ever go hot tubbing in Arizona in January?"
"January in Arizona is still a lot warmer than Wisconsin in December."
He looks at me skeptically. "Whatever you say, lady. You brought your suit, right?"
A wave of horror washes over me and I stare longingly at the hot tub, the steam rising up off the bubbles into the cold night sky. "You didn't tell me to!"
"I know," he says. "I wanted this to be a surprise so I asked your mom to pack one for you."
I stare at him, two different emotions fighting in me, and I'm not sure which one is going to win. On one hand, I'm slightly disturbed that he told my mom about the hot tub at his cabin and wanting to take me in it, but on the other, I'm just kind of really glad there's a bathing suit waiting for me upstairs.
"Um," he says, biting down on his lower lip. "Sorry if that was the wrong thing to do. I just thought it would be kind of fun if you didn't --"
Happiness wins out over horror as I listen to him stumble.
"Stop, stop," I break in, saving him from his embarrassment. "It's perfect. I love it."
"Do you want to get in now?" he asks. "Before my friends get here and -- "
For the second time in thirty seconds, Shane's interrupted while he's trying to talk.
"Yo, Stanford! You out there, dude?"
The patio door slides back open and a tall guy with shaggy black hair and a backwards Wisconsin baseball hat comes bounding out, followed by another guy and two girls.
His friends are here.
So much for that.
"Bro!" Baseball Hat walks over to Shane and they do that weird guy hug thing where they touch each other with their arms but that's really it.
Shane looks over at me with an apologetic smile and a wink, and I glance down at the deck and try not to noticeably blush.
"Guys, this is Natalie," he says, and I snap to attention and paste a bright smile on my face. "Nat, meet Grant and Chase from the team, and their girls, Nina and Laura."
I smile politely at everyone, and they do the same, and that's the end of that.
"Cards?" Grant, the one without the baseball hat, asks, pulling a deck out of the back pocket of his jeans.
"Ooh, can we?" one of the girls -- I think it's Nina -- says, looking over at Shane. He glances at me for a second.
"Yeah, sounds good."
His friends turn and head back inside while he walks over to me.
"Sorry," he murmurs into my hair. "I thought we'd have a little more time than that. And I didn't think you'd want to get in the hot tub with all of them. Cards seems easier."
I shrug. "Oh, I don't really care. Whatever you guys usually do is fine with me."
He leans back and looks down at me, tucking his finger under my chin. "Nat, please. You're my top priority here this weekend, not them. Speak up if you've got something you wanna say, okay?"
I look back into his eyes and can't help but smile. "Okay."
"Good." He leans down and kisses me -- a good kiss, not one of those barely-there-brush-against-me kisses that are nice sometimes, but the kind where his lips search mine hungrily and his hands get tangled in my hair -- before he takes my hand and leads me into the living room where his friends have set up camp around the coffee table in front of the leather couch and fire.
He walks a step ahead of me and sits down on the empty side of the table. I kneel on the floor next to him.
"What kind of cards do you play, Natalie?" Grant asks, shuffling the deck between his hands.
"Oh! Um, that's okay, someone else can pick," I say, feeling my cheeks grow warm.
"I know what everyone else likes, though," he says, shooting me a strange look. "Laura's favorite is five-card stud. You good with that?"
"Uh..." I trail off, trying to think of a good way to admit that I have no idea how to play any kind of poker.
"What if we play that game Professor J showed us in class last semester?" Shane cuts in, resting a hand on my knee below the table. "We all know how to play that and it's done in teams so I can teach Natalie as we go."
Everyone else looks slightly less enthusiastic about the idea of not playing poker but I'm so grateful to Shane right now that I don't really care what they think.
"Yeah, that's cool," Grant says. "Teams are easy enough, I guess."
I try to pretend like I'm not making the worst first impression ever as Grant sets up the cards for the game. Shane leans over to explain the rules to me.
"You didn't have to do that," I whisper as quietly as I can. "I'm happy to just watch."
He rolls his eyes. "What did I just tell you outside?"
"Fine. But I don't want your friends to hate me."
"They don't. And they won't. It's just cards."
Grant deals our hands and Shane picks up his. I sit on the sofa behind him so I can look over his shoulder and figure out the game.
"I'll watch a couple rounds first to see if I've got the hang of it, okay?" I say to him, and he nods, lost in thoughts of the best card combinations he can make with his hand.
I don't lean back and sink into the sofa but I might as well. I'm not planning on paying much attention to the game as my eyes wander around the wide-open living room.
It really is beautiful here. I wish it could just be me and Shane together for the weekend. Or I at least wish we could've come without his friends.
My gaze drifts onto Shane and I watch the way he brushes the just-a-little-too-long blonde waves away from his eyes as he intently studies the cards, how his forearms flex when he selects the ace of spades to toss back into the pile, the shrug of his broad shoulders as he realizes he made a mistake.
As I'm watching him, I realize how crazy it is that this guy I think I kind of maybe sort of adore (seriously, who am I trying to kid at this point?), this guy that I suddenly want to spend all of my time with, is helping me figure out a way to get back to Arizona as soon as possible.
And away from him.
Cinderella in Skates
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