Cinderella in Skates (6 page)

Just wanted to let you know we'll be outside tonight
, the text reads.
So bring a sweater or something. It's gonna get cold, AZ girl! See you soon.

I smile as I read over his message once, then twice. It's nothing but it still fills me with happiness. But mostly I'm just relieved.
 

We're still going tonight.

I walk over to my closet and stare inside. What do Wisconsin girls wear on dates -- or hanging outs or who-knows-whats--anyway? In Phoenix, I'd always wear a sundress, some pretty jeweled sandals, maybe a sweater in the winter when the temperature dropped into the sixties. It was uncomplicated there.
 

Not so much right now.
 

After glaring at everything on hangers for a few minutes, I settle on dark jeans and brown leather boots with a nice purple shirt under a white knit sweater and a scarf. I stare at myself in the mirror and frown. It's not that I look bad or anything; it's just that I don't look like me.

But I'm going to have to get over that, and fast. It's almost time to meet Shane.

I take one last look in the mirror, shrug and head downstairs.

"You're awfully dressed up to go to the rink." Dad's sitting in his overstuffed chair by the front window, peering at me over the top of his book.
 

"We're not going skating tonight. At least, I don't think we are."
 

Dad frowns. "Not skating? Why else would you be seeing your coach?"
 

"He wants to show me the campus, Dad."
 

My father stares at me for a second, then nods. "Oh. Oh, well, Madison's lovely. You should see it."
 

Mom appears in the doorway. "Where are you heading off to?"
 

"Downtown."
 

She raises an eyebrow. "With that new friend of yours? Iris?"
 

"Ivy," I reply. "And no. Shane's taking me on a tour."
 

"Oh," Mom says, shooting a look at Dad. "Oh. That should be fun."
 

"Yeah." I glance down at my phone as it buzzes in my hand. "Okay, he's outside. I better go. Be back later." I give my mom a kiss on the cheek before I dart out the front door.

Shane's car is parked in our driveway, but he gets out when he sees me coming and walks over to open the passenger side door for me.
 

"Well, thanks, Coach."
 

"Ugh, can we make it a rule that I'm only Coach when we're actually on the ice?"
 

He closes the door behind me and walks around to the driver's side.
 

"Nope," I say once he gets in and buckles his seatbelt. "Don't think I like that rule."
 

"And I don't think that's very fair."
 

I shrug. "Sorry, Coach. That's just the way it's going to be."
 

Shane smiles and backs out of our driveway. "So you've never really seen downtown Madison before, huh?"
 

I shake my head. "Nope, never."
 

"You're gonna love it. Hey, did you eat yet?"
 

I bite my lip. I hate this stupid question. I didn't but if he did and I say I'm hungry, then he's going to have to sit around and watch me eat. If I say yes, but he didn't, then I'll have to go hungry while he gets something to eat because I don't want him to think I'm a total pig.

And
this
is why sometimes I regret liking surprises so much.
 

"Um, no," I finally say. "I'm a little hungry, I guess."
 

"Good, me too," he replies without hesitation. Phew. "What do you like?"
 

"Oh, anything's fine. You pick, you know the area better than I do."

"Gonna have to give me a little more than that, Natalie."
 

Shane turns out onto a busy street and when I look up, I'm suddenly staring at the Capitol building right in front of my face as it towers over all the other buildings nearby.

"Oh, cool," I blurt out without thinking about it.

He looks over at me. "What? Oh, the Capitol? Yeah, pretty sweet, right? Eventually you kind of forget it's even there."
 

"I can't imagine that."
 

"Trust me," he says. "I used to think that, too. But now it's just something else around here that we take for granted, you know?"
 

"I guess so."
 

"I'll show you the view from John Nolen Drive sometime," he says. "Nothing's better than Madison's skyline over the lake at night."
 

"Sounds good to me."
 

"How's the weather for you now? Getting used to the cold?"
 

"Oh, it isn't that bad. This whole week has been pretty nice, actually."
 

"Warm enough to sit outside later?"

"I thought that's why you told me to bring a coat," I say, holding up the puffy winter jacket Mom picked out for me during the week.
 

Shane glances over at it. "That jacket is huge! What are you going to do in January?"
 

"Wear two?"
 

"Now that I'd like to see," he says. "Okay, I can clearly tell you aren't going to have a great time if we're outside all night. We'll go to my favorite restaurant then head over to the terrace."

"Sure, whatever you want."
 

He drives right up next to the Capitol and I can't help but stare at it as we pass.

"It really is cool," I mutter.

"Sounds like someone's starting to warm up to Wisconsin a little."
 

I look over at him. "Let's not get carried away."

Shane parallel parks along the curb and unbuckles his seatbelt. "Ready?"
 

I nod and hop out of the car.

"The restaurant is right over there," he says. "Hopefully my buddy's working and we can snag my favorite table."
 

"Oh, so is this where you bring all your dates?"
 

The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them and I immediately feel my cheeks grow warm.
 

It's the first time we've done anything together that isn't hockey and I already sound like I'm expecting a relationship from him. I can't afford to ruin this. I need Shane. He and his puck skills are the key to everything for me right now.
 

"The team likes to come here after our Saturday night games," he replies, and he doesn't look particularly bothered by my question at all.

He grabs the door and holds it open for me, and it's hard not to smile. He's just, well, I don't know what he is, but I'm pretty sure I can't come up with one thing about Shane Stanford that I don't like so far.
 

"Your usual spot? It's free," the guy standing behind the host's stand says when we walk in.
 

Shane nods. "Thanks, Timmy."
 

The guy smiles at me and grabs two menus. "Follow me."
 

He leads us through several winding rooms, all dimly lit with cozy booths. Each table has a flickering candle sitting on it, and I can't help but find it really hard to picture a men's college hockey team eating here in such a...well, such a romantic atmosphere.
 

And I won't lie. My toes are tingling slightly at the idea of sitting in one of those booths across from Shane.

But of course, Timmy leads us to a table, not a booth, in a big, open room full of windows.
 

"Here you go," he says.

Shane looks at me. "This okay, Natalie?"
 

I nod and drop into one of the seats. "Yeah, it's great."
 

I'm not sure that I really mean it, but of course I'm not about to tell him this.
 

"I like it because of the view of the lake," he says as Timmy leaves the menus on the table and walks away.
 

I glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows and for a second, I forget how irritated I am that we're out in the open surrounded by a ton of other people instead of in a quiet, cozy booth.

The restaurant sits on the banks of one of the two lakes that surround Madison. Sailboats litter the clear blue surface as the sun sets behind the tall pine tree lining the far banks.

"Wow," I murmur.

"Yeah, nice, right? One of my favorite spots. And the food isn't bad, either. Not so sure yet about the company, though."
 

I swing my head around to look at him, mock horror etched on my face. "I'm pretty sure I'm the one who gets to make a decision about the quality of company tonight."
 

He lifts an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Yeah, I think it is."
 

"And just why is that?" He's smiling at me over the top of his menu and I can't keep the grin off my face.
 

"Because I make the rules."
 

"You think that, don't you?"

I just smile and open my menu. "What's good here?"
 

"Look at you, changing the subject," he says with a shake of his head. "I really like their burgers, but I don't know what you eat."

"A burger sounds great."
 

"You should go with the Mendota burger," he tells me. "It's my favorite."
 

"Done," I say, closing the menu.

"Not even gonna look at it?" he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
 

"Nope. I'll trust you on this one, Coach."
 

Our waiter comes over to us then and we place our order, both of us sticking with burgers. When he leaves, I'm left sitting there, staring at Shane, not sure what to say.

But I don't mind. He's just so...so cute, and my heart's pounding slightly as I take in the wave in his thick blonde hair and his strong forearms resting on the edge of the table.
 

"Alright, Natalie," he says finally. "I know you're here from Arizona and I know you want to go back and I know you're trying to learn how to play hockey, but that's really it. What else is left for me to find out about you?"

I feel a faint blush rise up and spread across my face. "There's not much to tell, really."
 

"I don't believe that. Everyone's got a story and I want to know yours."
 

I glance down at my hands. "I...well, I...."
 

"Okay," he says. "Let's make it easy. Why are you so upset about being here? It's really not a terrible place to live."
 

"It's not home," I say immediately.

"But that isn't always a bad thing."
 

"Maybe. But it's also not the best timing. I couldn't even finish my senior year with my friends that I've known forever. And that sucks."
 

He nods slowly. "I could see that. You could look at it like practice for college. Everyone goes their separate ways then anyway."
 

"You didn't," I point out.

"Just because I didn't leave doesn't mean I didn't want to," he says. "And most of my friends did go. We still went our separate ways."
 

I'm quiet for a few seconds. What he's saying triggers something in my mind -- this isn't the first time I've heard him talk about wishing he could leave Madison. But it's weird to me because he loves this place. I can't imagine him ever really wanting to get out.
 

"Why'd you want to leave?" I finally ask.

Shane looks up at the ceiling and fiddles with his hands. He takes a deep breath. "You ask tough questions, you know that?"
 

"What'd you just say to me? Everyone has a story and I want to know yours?"
 

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "It's a long story."
 

"We've got time. I ordered my burger well done."
 

He laughs. "You really want to know?"
 

I nod.

"Okay," he says. "You know I love hockey. I really do and I wouldn't trade playing it for anything. But I almost quit."
 

I raise my eyebrows. This doesn't sound anything like the Shane I've met.
 

"I can't imagine that," I say.

"Well, it happened. Hockey's a weird sport in some ways. You're eligible to get drafted once you're 18 and not everyone goes to college to play before they jump into the pro leagues. I wanted that to be me. I thought I had a shot. No, it was more than a shot. I thought I was a shoo-in. They all said I was guaranteed to go in the first round and if not, then definitely the second. There was no chance I wouldn't get taken by one of the teams."
 

He pauses but doesn't look at me. I can't take my eyes off his face. My heart's pounding for him even though that's silly; this has nothing to do with me and it happened a long time ago.

"I could've been selected by a team and still gone to play at Wisconsin," he continues. "It was all I wanted. They take the best prospects, the sure-fire picks, and invite them to the draft. Only the guys they know will get picked to avoid some kid sitting there with all the cameras on him while his dreams get crushed on live TV. They asked me to go, so my dad and I flew to Canada for it. I was going to get a hat and a jersey and have my picture taken and it was supposed to be perfect. Everything I worked for."
 

A small smile plays on the corner of his lips as he takes a deep breath before continuing.
 

"Coach Van always said hard work pays off. He tells his current players every year that I'm living proof of that because I'm playing college puck. But I don't know. I didn't, as you might be able to tell by now, get drafted. All of those picks and I just sat there feeling more numb each time my phone didn't ring and they called another name that wasn't mine. I don't know how many times they showed me on TV and talked about how crazy it was that I was still on the board and what a great value I'd be at this late pick. I became the exact situation the hockey execs were trying to avoid," he says with a shake of his head. "And so here I am. Nothing to show for all of it. So, yeah. I almost quit instead of going to play in college."