Cinderella in Skates

chapter FIVE





Shane's car drives down our street around 6:30 on Friday night. He doesn't stop in front of our house but keeps going until he reaches his parents' driveway and parks behind his mom's SUV.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. I'm not ready yet and even though I wasn't really nervous before, I am now. Suddenly seeing him here, like it's actually about to happen tonight, makes my stomach feel like it's about to jump right out of my body.

And the funny thing is, I still have no idea what tonight even is.

We practiced together yesterday after school let out and he drove over from campus and everything was fine but...I don't know, it kind of felt different, too. But maybe it's just me overthinking things because of tonight. I'm sure that's it.

Except...Shane didn't seem to want to get too close to me yesterday. Not that he did before he asked me to hang out Friday or anything, but still. I thought maybe he'd start now.

So I guess all this means is that tonight isn't a date. And that's totally fine. I'll be leaving Wisconsin soon, anyway. No reason to complicate things.

Even if Shane's the only guy I've seen in a really long time that makes me have to concentrate on breathing normally whenever he's close.

My phone dings as it rests on my bed. I leave the window seat where I've been absently staring at the street and reach over for it.

It's a new message from Shane and my heart plummets. He's going to cancel. I should've seen it coming. I knew he'd find something better to do than hang out with me on a Friday night. He's a college athlete, for Pete's sake! What's he want to spend time with me for, anyway?





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."

He stops talking and finally looks up at me. I realize this is the part where I'm probably supposed to say something, but what do you say to that?

"Shane, I --"

"Stop. You don't have to come up with something to say to make me feel better. Believe me, people have tried. It's over. It was almost two years ago. But you wanted my story and now you have it."

I'm about to respond when the waiter chooses that moment to pop back over with our food. He places our burgers in front of us, then turns to Shane.

"Not even going to introduce me to your girl, Stanford?" he asks him, and I wrinkle my forehead.

Shane's cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. "This is Natalie. She just moved into my parents' neighborhood. Nat, this is Pete. He lived on my floor in the dorm freshman year."

Pete turns to look at me. "How're you liking Madison?"

I try to keep my eyes from falling on Shane but they flicker in his direction anyway. "It isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Pete nods. "Cool. Good to meet you," he says before turning and walking back into the kitchen.

"He seems nice," I say to Shane, hoping we won't have to go back to discussing his draft misery because I don't know what to say about it.

"Yeah, he isn't bad. I really only hang out with guys from the team these days."

I nod. "Makes sense."

"So, anyway, dig in." He gestures at the burgers on the table before handing me a set of silverware wrapped in a napkin. "Hope it lives up to all my hype."

"It better," I say, spreading the napkin across my lap and picking up the dripping burger topped with bacon and cheese and grilled onions. "But it looks good."

I bite into it and my eyes widen just a little. He wasn't kidding. It's easily one of the best burgers I've ever had. I take a few more bites before glancing up at him.

He's watching me with a funny expression on his face. I can't quite read it, either. It's almost like it's a few parts amusement, some wonder and some disbelief.

"Something wrong?" I ask once I swallow.

He shakes his head. "No, nothing at all. That good, huh?"

"Delicious. It's perfect. Thank you."

He nods and smiles. "I'm glad you like it."

He's right.

I do.





      ***





"Still good to go to the terrace?" Shane asks me forty minutes later after we walk out of the restaurant, stuffed with burgers and fries. "Or are you ready to go home?"

My eyebrows shoot up. I hadn't expected -- and I don't want -- our night to end so fast after we just finished dinner. I'm not sure if he's subtly trying to get rid of me.

"Oh," I say. "I'm fine. We can still go."

"But do you want to? I don't want to pressure you into it if you'd rather go home."

"Yeah, yeah, I want to. You promised to show me the school, so let's do it."

He smiles. "Great. Too cold to walk?"

"I'm fine," I say, shrugging into my puffy winter jacket. Shane shakes his head and smiles as he helps me into it.

"I can't believe you're going to make me walk around with you dressed like this. What are you trying to do to my reputation on this campus?"

I reach over and push him on the arm. "Maybe I better go home after all."

He grabs my hand and for a quick second, I think he's about to hold it and my stomach shoots to the sidewalk but he releases me almost as fast as he touched me.

"Nope, too late," he replies. "You're stuck with me."

I don't respond -- I can't. My mouth's gone dry at his touch on my bare skin and the hard biceps I just felt beneath his light coat, and I'm pretty sure I might be staring at him a little awkwardly.

"It's not too far away," he continues after realizing I'm not going to say anything. "This is State Street. It's kind of the heart of downtown Madison. Bars and restaurants and shops and stuff. Campus basically starts at the other end."

We walk down the street, my boots crunching on the sidewalk beneath my feet. This time, it's a comfortable silence settling in between us as I take in everything State Street has to offer.

It's a cute college town, even I have to admit that much. Lights hang from street lamps and lackadaisical couples stroll the sidewalks as night falls on the city.

"In a couple hours, it'll be pretty crazy out here," Shane says. "When people hit the bars, I mean."

"I've never been."

"Ah, so you're on the straight and narrow, huh?"

"Just never had the opportunity, I guess."

"Makes sense when you aren't in college. I won't lie, I've had my fair share of fun with my older brother's ID."

I smile despite myself. "Gutsy."

Shane shrugs. "College."

"Isn't that risky being on the team and all?"

His eyes darken. "Probably a little. I haven't done it in a year, though, and I'll be 21 in ten months. Not a big deal to wait now."

We come to the end of the street and stop in front of a hill. A tall building with long white columns sits at the top while smaller buildings line the paths up both sides.

"This is Bascom Hill."

"It's gorgeous," I say and I mean it even though it's dark and kind of hard to see it all with just street lamps lining the way to the top.

"Even better in daylight. I'll show you it again sometime."

I smile and I'm glad the dark night hides my blush because I love hearing that he wants to hang out with me again outside of hockey. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what he's getting at.

"Okay," he says. "Let's hit the terrace."

We walk a few blocks and suddenly we're standing in front of one of the most magical-looking places I've ever seen.

Waves from the lake lap lightly against the shoreline. People everywhere sit on yellow and green and orange chairs with pitchers of beer covering every table. Colorful patio lights hang above them and there's a live band playing inside a small gazebo.

"I...wow."

Shane looks over at me and smiles. "Pretty cool, right?"

"It's amazing. I love it."

"I thought you would. Let's see if we can grab a table."

I follow him through the maze of brightly-colored chairs and laughing, smiling people. There's a buzz in the air, a low hum, an electricity dancing around the terrace that's so easy to feel that I'm surprised I don't see sparks shooting through the air.

The patio lights cast a dim glow on the smiling faces, everyone looking even happier in the muted tones.

Shane stops walking and turns around to look for me. I'm a few feet away from him, scooting past a guy with his chair sticking out into the aisle.

"Found one," he calls, pulling out a yellow chair for me.

I smile at him as I drop into the seat. He walks around to the other side of the table, and I'm disappointed he isn't sitting right next to me.

"What do you think?" he asks.

The band's music fills my ears but it isn't so loud that I can't hear Shane or the buzz of conversation nearby. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"It's one of the best places I've ever seen," I say. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"I knew you'd end up liking Wisconsin."

"Madison isn't so bad. I mean, it's not home and I still would rather be there, don't get me wrong," I say. "But if we had to move somewhere, I'm not so upset anymore that it was here."

"I think you're going to find it a lot harder to leave than you think."

I don't meet his gaze. I've spent the last five months counting down to the day I could go back to Arizona and now, in just two stupid weeks, the idea of picking up and moving actually makes a small pit form in my stomach. And it isn't that I don't want to leave because I do -- Arizona is home and it always will be -- it's just that I never thought there could ever be even a moment where it'd be anything other than the easiest choice.

I'm about to say something else, change the subject, talk about something that suddenly doesn't sound so hard when three guys walk up to our table. One reaches over and claps Shane on the back.

"Whaddup, Stanford."

They're each dressed in the same red fleece jacket with the hockey emblem and jersey numbers on it that I saw Shane wear at practice last week. They glance over in my direction and raise their eyebrows.

"This your girl?" another asks.

It's easy to see Shane's cheeks grow bright red even in the dimly-lit night. I smile, thinking back to our waiter's comments earlier this evening. Maybe he's been talking about me to the team. They all seem to think I'm his girl, and my stomach twists. I don't hate it.

"I'm Natalie," I jump in before he has to come up with an awkward response that might ruin my buzz.

"Steve," one says, holding out his hand to me. "We play with your boy."

"I figured based on your jackets."

Steve gives a small half-smile. "True."

I glance over at Shane, not sure what else to say to his friends.

"What're you guys up to tonight?" he asks them.

One of the guys who didn't bother to introduce himself to me shrugs. "Not sure. Molly and Kara are having some kind of thing at their place. Maybe the bars later. You in?"

Shane's eyes dart over to me and I quickly look down at my hands folded in my lap. "Uh, no," he says. "I think I'm busy."

"A'ight, man," Steve says. "Lemme know if you change your mind."

"I won't," Shane replies, his voice strong and unwavering, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling too hard. I don't want to embarrass him.

"Cool cool," one of his friends says. "Catch ya later, bro."

Shane nods and the three guys walk off.

"Sorry about them."

I shrug. "For what? They're your friends."

"Yeah, kinda. Teammates, friends, whatever."

I nod and don't say anything else but I can feel his eyes on me, burning and hot.

We lapse into silence as the buzzing words and strumming guitar fill the electrified air around us. It's comfortable and lovely, and I like just knowing that Shane's next to me.