Chapter 6: Evening Dance

Eyes were on him.

Kirsch was no stranger to people watching him. He was a beautiful and well-known (if not famous) figure skater in Clover. Kirsch loved attention, soaked it up like a sponge. However, Kirsch was not accustomed to Zora watching him.

At first, Kirsch paid no mind to Zora's glances, while they started the sixth lesson for the children. But it went on through the lesson. What had Kirsch done to have Zora observing him so closely? Did he insult him? Or did Kirsch have some sort of blemish? Was his hair a mess? Why was Zora looking at him as though Kirsch was a puzzle needing to be solved?

Having been acutely aware of Zora's presence for years, the attention set Kirsch on edge. He thought that he'd enjoy it more, but it just made him jittery with nerves. He skated gracefully around the rink focusing on the children's wobbly attempts to push off the wall, trying to avoid Zora's gaze that followed him relentlessly.

Around and around, they went, forty minutes into the lesson, Kirsch, out of years of habit of sneaking glances when Zora wasn't looking, looked over to Zora. Instead of admiring Zora's form or his handsomeness, Kirsch and Zora's eyes met across the ice. Kirsch wondered what was going on in Zora's head.

Zora gave him a half-hearted wave and went back to lecturing the several children around him.

Kirsch's heart thumped loudly in his chest. Curse you, Zora Ideale, why must I like you so much?

"Mr. Kirsch, I think I'm ready to try again," said one of the children, determined but frowning.

"Alright, give it a go. Remembering falling is just part of learning," said Kirsch.

Eyes were on him again, he shivered, and Kirsch hoped to survive the next twenty minutes.

After the lesson, Zora had to leave for physical therapy. Zora told Kirsch that he'd talk to him later to talk about the next class. It was good to have a moment to breathe without Zora's gaze on him, as Mimosa arrived for training. They had no luck in finding a teacher who was free to take on another student this season. Kirsch felt that he was a poor substitute for a proper teacher for Mimosa. Men's singles and Women's singles were a bit different after all and Kirsch and Mimosa had different strengths and weaknesses, as well differences in their athleticism.

Mimosa worked all afternoon with him on the choreography he made for her. They were many changes to be made per Mimosa's requests. After practice, Kirsch and Mimosa went to their childhood home to have dinner with their parents.

And despite spending hours on the ice, Kirsch found himself entering the rink around seven at night. He hadn't been wrong when Zora said that they were people raised on the ice rink. Kirsch never tired of being out on the ice.

He laced his skates tight enough and then, headed out on the ice. Wednesdays were quiet in the evening since many liked to get training earlier in the day and the lesson for the kids was in the middle of the day.

One foot in front of the other without thinking as he glided across the ice. He began to perform the choreography for Mimosa and make changes.

Some time must have passed, though Kirsch never would have known it, if it weren't for sudden clapping echoing off the walls.

Kirsch's head whipped around to find Zora at the edge of the rink, clearly here to get some training as he carried his hockey stick as he skated onto the ice. Kirsch's face warmed as his heartbeat louder. "Zora! Were you watching?"

"A bit," said Zora, amused. "Is that what Mimosa is gonna do for the competition?"

"Yeah, it's a work-in-progress," said Kirsch, easily. "How did your PT go?"

"Fine, my arm's healing nicely," said Zora. "Just wanted to get some footwork training in before tomorrow. I'm helping the guys tomorrow, in a limited capacity."

"Well, they lost to the Silver Eagles last week by a point and Purple Orcas' defense is near perfect, so they need the help," said Kirsch. "Heard all about it at Sunday dinner, by the way. Nozel is so smug."

"Runs in the family," said Zora, teasing.

"He wishes that he was as amazing and graceful as me," said Kirsch, glibly. "Not a graceless hockey player."

"Hockey players aren't graceless," said Zora, rolling his eyes and scoffing. "We have balance while we're chasing a frozen puck around the ice, trying to hit it was a stick."

"Balance is one thing, gracefulness is another," Kirsch countered.

"Those are fighting words, pretty boy," said Zora. There was a trace of competitiveness in his voice, which made Kirsch grin (and not because Zora called him pretty boy). "Dance with me then? If you're sure that I'm such a clumsy, blundering hockey player, I'll be on my ass in minutes and I'll buy you dinner."

Ignoring his heart hammering in his chest, Kirsch held his hand out, and said, "You're on."

When Zora grabbed Kirsch's hand, Kirsch's heart stuttered. His stomach clenched as Zora pulled him close and glided to guide Kirsch in a dance. Kirsch spent years dancing with his sister, but he usually led, so relenting the control to Zora was unintentional as Kirsch tensed. Zora snorted with a huff, "I'm not gonna stomp your toes, Kirsch."

Kirsch didn't respond, memorizing the way that Zora's rough hands felt in his, because he may never get the chance again.

And so they danced.

Kirsch, on pure instinct, followed Zora's lead, just so he could stare at Zora's masked-covered face. Zora was far more graceful than Kirsch gave him credit. Of course, both hockey and figure skating require great skill on the ice and Kirsch never doubted Zora's skill in that arena. But who knew that he knew how to dance on the ice?

Biting inside his cheek, Kirsch resisted the urge to throw himself in Zora's arms and kiss him senseless. Zora spun Kirsch around with ease and then pulled Kirsch far too close to his body. Kirsch wondered idly if he needed a doctor with the way his heart ached and his chest tightened as he held his breath.

I love you. He breathed out at the thought. Dammit.

The dance ended as abruptly as it started, but Zora, to Kirsch's infinite surprise, didn't pull away from Kirsch and still had hold of Kirsch's hands. He hoped his face wasn't too red or that his hands weren't too sweaty.

Zora stared at him with his pretty blue eyes. "Do you wanna come home with me?"

Kirsch sucked in a breath and said, impulsively, "Yes."

~to be continued