I WILL ALWAYS HATE YOU

You started the ritual of lacingup yoru skates, tightened the laces on the box of your skate and the ones near your ankle, crossing the laces in an 'x' shape and then hooking them under and over the bottom boot hooks. You crossed again, each new hook snagging the laces and being pulled taut. You skip the second-to-last hooks and tie your laces firmly, making sure to leave just enough room at the top of your skates so you can move your leg just enough for when you bend.

You pulled your leggings over the top of the boots to cover the books and lace and got up from your spot on the bleacher. There were no blade covers to remove, no soakers to take off, you just walked down the stairs of the bleachers, and waited by the rink doors with the rest of the adults.

Some of them were in regular clothes, others were in gym wear. You had new skates, ones you had been breaking in for the past 2 weeks. You waited for the kids to get off the ice, and alongside the other adults, you got into the rink. Groups formed quickly, the more advanced skaters went to the far right side of the rink while the inexperienced ones stayed to the left and joined their coaches.

You began the warm-up with the other advanced skaters. You did crossovers until the coaches deemed you all had to turn to the other direction and do the same that way. You did 3 turns and Mohawks to transition between elements until the coach dismissed everyone to their groups. You went over to the Freestyle 5 group, it was just you and 3 other people who were there, and one coach who looked like he's rather be anywhere but there.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Looks like it's just us for today. As a heads up, we'll have to move cause the hockey classes are now taking place at 5 instead of 5:30. So get ready for that." He explained. He flashes a quick smile.

"Is there anything you guys want to focus on or ask? Something that you're interested in learning first?" He asked.

"What's the best way to prep for an Axel?"

"Ah, Axels! Yes, everyone wants to do that first. Well, it's the hardest element we'll be doing outside of step sequence, and the its the one that requires the most off-ice training, so my advice is get started on those double jumps, specifically doubles loops." He joked. He looked around the rest of the class and took note of everyone there.

"Alright, let's do Axel prep." And with that, we were all spread out and practicing.

He broke down the elements that made an Axel possible, the conditioning he wanted to see done. Scratch spins, arm positions, and foot sequence. All of it was done until failure. He kept saying he wanted to see people fall, that falling was part of learning. You, on the other hand, were determined to give it your all to every element. You refocused when you felt out of it.

You didn’t notice when the hockey players started coming into the ice, but you did notice when a loud whistle made itself know and a man’s voice boomed at your side.

“Alright everyone, get to it. Laps!” Just like yourself, these players did their warm up, crossovers, transitions, and assigned elements. But unlike you, they were rougher, looser, there was no grace to their movements, just power. The coaches stood by the rinks walls and watched, barking instructions and getting closer to some of the players when they thought they where lacking behind. But there was one that never moved away from your side. He wore aviators indoors, tinted at that, and had a nasty scar that pulled from his chin all the way up the left side of his face.

Roughed is what you’d describe him. And he acted that way too. He didn’t move, just stood straight as he watched his flock in silence.

He must have noticed you staring cause he turned his head to look at you. He eyed you up and down, his brows moving up as he took you in.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice raspy and rough. You could tell he smoked.

“Just watching the players.” You said, hoping he bought it.

“Nothing impressive about them. They’re all scared of failing or looking dumb. Especially that one in the orange jersey. GET TO IT SANTOS!” He yelled out at the player.

“I mean, if my coach was just standing around I’d feel like I’m failing too.” You muttered, but not quiet enough for him not to hear.

“Oh yeah? So what’s up with your coach? Doesn’t look like any of you are doing anything right. You’re all just twirling around and looking pretty.” He retorted.

“At least we’re pretty.” You snapped. He was pushing your buttons, you could tell. He was smirking and he kept cocking his head to the side like he was taking you in.

“Don’t think to highly of yourself, hun.”

“You too.” You turned your back to him and continued practicing like nothing had happened, but that didn’t stop him from looking at you. His eyes tracked you, everywhere you went and no matter what you did, he was watching.

By the time class ended you were swearing and out of breath. You grabbed your water bottle from the side of the rink and drank as much as you possibly could. Exhaustion over took you, and you could already feel just how sore your body was becoming.

As you made your way to the door, you were stopped by a ‘hey’ at a distance. It was the same coach from before. He skated over to you and stopped just a hand reach away from you. He was tall, and up close you could feel just how much heat he radiated off.

“Don’t take offense to anything I said. I was just trying to be funny.” He explained.

“None taken. I wouldn’t be in this sport if I couldn’t take a joke or a comment or two.”

“Are you practicing regularly? Are you always at these classes?” He asked.

“Yeah, this is the only class schedule that works for me and I come in every other day or so to practice.”

“Then I’ll see you around.” He was being coy. He was…flirting. You thought you miss understood the duty in but, he was in fact flirting. And it seemed you weren’t the only one who had just realized this, either. His student where staring at him and at you while the other coaches barked orders at them and tried getting them to move along.

“Guess I’ll see you around too…..”

“Russel. You can call me Russell or Adler.” He extended his hand to you. A handshake. You took it and noticed just how clammy he was, how warm his hand was compared to your own.

“I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” You said your goodbyes and left the ice and went to your things. At the bleachers you took off your skates and made sure to clean them before packing them away in your bag. You lingered a while. You watched as Adler taught and how the students complied.