#fv2

Closeups

From the look on her face as she takes another easy lap around the rink he guesses she knows that already.

When she reaches him again she stops abruptly and fixes him with a no-nonsense stare.

“If you won’t tell me how long you’ve been watching me, Hockey,” -- she puts special emphasis on the nickname this time, nodding at his skates with their thick sturdy blades -- “Can you at least tell me why you’ve been watching me?”

She looks him in the eye, expectantly, arms folded tightly in front of her.

“Um...” Gendry says, like the idiot he is. He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I, uh. I don’t know quite how to explain it...”

“I don’t think you’re a creep, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she says quickly. His eyes snap to hers and relief washes over him when he sees she means it. “You don’t look like the kind of person who just comes to the rink to ogle the girls in their costumes. And I mean, you’re here almost as much as I am these days. And you’re actually skating. You obviously you have a legit reason to be here.”  

He nods vigorously. “Oh yeah, I do have a legit reason to be here. I swear.”

“Good,” she says. “I mean, I figured. But thanks for confirming.”

He swallows. Nods. “Yeah. I, uh... I play hockey. I’m a... hockey player. Recreational league.” He smiles sheepishly at her. “You’ve probably already guessed the hockey part, though. From my... you know. From my skates. And otherwise I don’t know why you’d be calling me Hockey.”

She looks down at his skates again, then back up at his face. The right side of her mouth quirks up into a half-smile. “Yeah, I kind of already have guessed the hockey part,” she agrees.

“Right,” he continues. “Well, I’m here because my coach says I need to work on my speed. Regionals are next month, and it’s the only thing holding me back. My speed, I mean.” He shakes his head. “I’m a great shot, but I’m kind of slower on skates than I should be at my level.”

Her eyes narrow a little. “I see.”

He nods again. “So, I’ve been coming here to practice speed drills before work every morning. And... well... you’ve been here, too. Every time.”

She nods. “I have been,” she agrees. “And so you’ve been watching me skate today instead of working on your speed because... I’m here?”

He shakes his head, eyes wide. “Oh, no. No. Not just because you’re here. I’ve been watching you skate because you’re --”

He pauses. He bites his lip.

Because you’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen move over ice, he thinks, but does not say. Because you’re mesmerizing, and ferocious, when you skate the way you do. And, if I’m being honest, I also think you’re kind of ridiculously gorgeous.

“-- because you’re really fast on your feet,” he finishes lamely, the words coming out in a jumble in their haste to leave his mouth. He coughs into his hand, and looks away again when he starts to feel his cheeks grow hot. “I think could learn a lot from you.”

The girl doesn’t say anything in response to this pathetic half-explanation for a very long time. She merely looks him over, from head to toe, and then back up again, as though apprising a difficult project and estimating how long it might take her to finish it.

Finally, after what feels like several lifetimes, she nods a little, and extends her hand to him.

“I’m Arya,” she says. “Arya Stark. My own regionals are in two weeks so I won’t have lots of time to work with you. But, you know.” She shrugs. “We’ll see what we can get done in two weeks.”

Gendry gulps. “What are you talking about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you want to skate faster or don’t you?”

“Um.” He licks his lips. “Yeah. Yeah. Of course I do.”

“Okay then,” she huffs. She sticks out her hand farther towards him. As though in a dream, Gendry slowly reaches out his own hand and tentatively takes hers.

It’s so tiny, he marvels.

For one mad instant he wonders what the hell she wants him to do with her hand, exactly, but she answers the question for him by pumping his up and down in a very business-like shake.

“What you’ve been doing on the ice this past week won’t get you where you want to be, Hockey,” she tells him, still shaking his hand. “But I can get you there.”

“Oh. You.. uh... you don’t think what I’ve been doing will work?” Then a thought occurs to him. “Wait. How do you know what I’ve been doing all week?” he asks. “Have you been watching me, too?”

Gendry regards her hopefully and waits for an answer. She doesn’t give one. Other than a small, nearly imperceptible quirk of her right eyebrow her face gives nothing away.

He sighs, and decides to give up. “So you’ll... work with me?” he asks. He prays to whatever god that might be listening that his voice isn’t shaking too badly. “You’ll help me get faster?”

Arya shrugs. “I mean... sure. I guess,” she says.  “I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. But you need to tell me your name first.”

He blinks at her, confused. Oh, right. She doesn’t know his name yet. “Oh, yeah. I’m Gendry. Gendry Waters.”

She smiles at him, then. The first real smile she’s ever given him. It makes his stomach flip, the way she looks when she’s smiling at him, and that won’t do at all if they’re going to be working together.

He forces himself to think about something -- anything -- other than the way Arya Stark is looking at him right now.

“Nice to meet you, Gendry,” she says, her voice all business again. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 6.”