Books About Ice Skating Novels & Stories

I see my words have done no good to clear the confusion. "Yeah, I'll show you when we get to your pack." "Our pack," she insists. "Yeah." I go quiet for a second before clearing my throat again. "So uh, we'd go ice skating at a local rink. And I remember it would feel so cold, even through our shoes and layers. But I'd be having so much fun with her that it wouldn't matter. Not until the little in-between moments. Then we'd go back to skating and I'd be lost in the fun again."

Zeke was fast, too fast, the second I almost grabbed his vest, he'd swerve to another direction. I would lose my balance and try not to land flat on my face “Even if you don't touch me, try not to fall down.” Gosh, this was so hard, but if I want a chance against Adrian. I have to be committed. I spent an hour skating after Zeke, not once did I manage to touch his vest. My legs shook like I had been lifting weights, and I was drowned in sweat. “No offence Zeke, I don't see how this is going to help me.” I panted.

It was like something Dylan had never seen before. And still, he was wrong. Because there is nothing more attractive than seeing the way Andre hovers behind his little sister as she gets the hang off skating with much more weight on her shoulders than she’s used to. Their trainer, Evan, made it clear that he wouldn’t even let her touch her hockey stick until she could skate confidently with all of her gear on. Considering she did a lot of bragging about being the ‘fastest ice skater in her school’, Dylan hadn’t expected her to be so adorably clumsy.

I arched a brow and crossed my arms over my chest as I watched Haletta. “Need help?” I said. She looked at me and shook her head. “No.” I found it entertaining that Haletta doesn't know how to walk in roller boots. It is not difficult. I learnt how to ice skate when I was five, which led me to having an interest in roller skating. After that I was an expert in skating but sadly I haven’t participated in any competitions. My father said it would be dangerous since it involves traveling, international competition. She sighs and clasps my hand. “Be careful.” Haletta warned. I smirked. “Sure.”

My pace slowed as my gaze found the lake that she was eager for me to see. It wasn’t the lake, per se, that caught my breath away. It was how it was frozen that made it look more magical. It was the most magnificent ice rink I’d ever seen. It was out of this world, as clear as the glass mirroring a sapphire stone with the reflection of the blue sky. The mountain backdrop, it made it more majestic and quintessential. There were a couple of people who skated enough to know it was safe. “Do you skate?”

“I just don’t want you to learn, Tri. I know it sounds selfish, but once you learn, you won’t ride with me anymore, and you will ride on your own.” “I told you that the rink might crack and melt, I lied, and you know that, but you didn’t pry. You thought that you have a phobia. I’m the worse best friend you’ve ever had. I was afraid that someone might ask you out if he sees you ice skating. I like girls who know how to skate. Remember when we watched frozen? You like Emma while I like Elsa.” I glance down at her. I’ve never thought I’m capable of loving someone so much that I can't breathe without her.

I put the earphones on both of my ears and hit the play button on my phone. I entered the rink and started gliding, through the music that have been playing through the earphones. I close my eyes and I immediately pictured my mother, skating beside me. My mother is the one who taught me how to ice skate. Eleanor I'm here outside the ice skating rink, watching Hestia ice skate gracefully. She's skating gracefully, Hestia is leaping, Turning, and spinning gracefully against the ice. She occupied the whole ice rink, and I noticed that as she Skates, her eyes were closed I saw a tear fall from Hestia's closed eye, but I can see that she is smiling, she's reminiscing something.

Armor that keeps me safe yet makes me ache to move, to explode, to be uncontainable. I crave the puck drop like a lifeline. That first slice of skate against ice the resistance, the glide, the raw, violent grace of it all. The cold wind biting my face, the muscles springing into action, the shock of collision, the rush of the chase. Each moment a spark, a pulse, a release of every part of me tethered and restrained.

Even in that moment, with my body genuinely failing me, some deeply trained instinct insisted I could manage this the way I’d managed everything else — quietly, invisibly, without anyone noticing the wall was actually cracking. I skated back to my position as the whistle blew again, telling myself to focus, to breathe, to do exactly what years of training had prepared me to do. My vision narrowed instead, the edges of my sight going soft and unreliable, the ice in front of me somehow both too close and impossibly far away at once. My glove felt heavier than it should have. My legs, seconds earlier fully responsive, now seemed to be operating on a slight delay, as though the signals traveling

It could also be because I had been on this damn treadmill for an hour and thirty minutes, forcing myself to the point where I felt how my legs were about to give out. I pressed the stop button on the side of the machine and got off it, almost throwing myself on the safe floor, letting the coldness of the floor cool my burning skin. I hated running. I know the sport I played was all about running and speed, but weirdly enough, I have never disliked ice skating because of it. Quite the opposite actually — I loved the sport and everything about it. The torturous outfits, the coldness, and the long hours of training did not bother me. Losing did.