Swiveling his eyes to the bank of numbered buttons, he nodded, then pressed P1 with a frown. The door opened at the lobby, and I said, “See you in a bit!” before he could question why I wasn’t going down to parking.
I waved to the concierge as I hurried past, pulling out my phone to check on my ride. Fuck. Fuck! It’d been canceled and the app was searching for another driver. It wasn’t always easy to get someone out here midday for some reason. In the distance, cars zoomed by on the 401, the major highway cutting across Toronto.
Since the Ice Chalet was in the middle of nowhere, some drivers didn’t want to go up there. It was weird that they’d built an arena so far away in the seventies, but apparently there had initially been a big outdoor adventure park beside it that was long gone now.
I’d tried the bus, but I had to take three to get close to the rink, and it took way too long. At least I’d convinced Manon and Bill for a one p.m. start on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Only problem was that this was Monday.
I’d missed not only the obligatory team session at the crack of dawn, but by the time I’d woken, there was no point in going until after lunch. I’d texted Manon my apologies and explained that my alarm hadn’t gone off. Which was true! Because I’d blanked on setting it. My phone usually reminded me at night, but it had betrayed me.
“Come on, come on…” I almost shook my phone like that would help somehow.
Henry had surely been at the rink obscenely early and had likely come home for lunch before heading back. An engine rumbled close by, a red Civic passing the front doors on its way down the driveway. It was Henry, and because I’m an idiot and didn’t keep my head down, our eyes met through his window.
He kept going. Which was both a relief and annoying because what a dick for not offering me a ride. Not that he owed me anything, but most people would have at least asked since we were going to the same place. My mother would surely praise his killer instinct.
An icy wind blew crunchy orange leaves around my Converse. My fingers were going numb. It was expensive paying for a Lyft to and from the rink, but it was the best option since I couldn’t rent a car.
Red flashed in my peripheral vision. I gaped as the Civic returned after a precise U-turn. It pulled up to the curb, and the passenger window rolled down.
When I leaned low to see him, Henry asked one question. “Why?”
Excuses popped onto my tongue, but after a moment I went with the truth. “I can’t drive.”
His brows met with a little furrow that was honestly adorable. “Why?”
“My mom didn’t want me taking time out from skating to learn. I should have done it when I moved to California, but there was another skater who had a car. Emily Lee? She has a sweet Jeep Wrangler, and she gave me rides.” My face burned, and I knew I was beet red. I’d been lazy not to learn when I’d had the chance, and now here I was. Not that I cared what Henry thought.
Still, I squirmed. “My ride will be here any minute, so.”
“Who drives you?”
I held up my phone. “Whoever’s working Lyft.”
A frown pinched his face. “That’s expensive.”
“Yeah, well. My fault for not learning how to drive.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then he faced forward and popped the lock on the passenger door, which released with a little thunk.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
He just gave me a long-suffering glare, so I hopped in before he could change his mind. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”
Being unfailingly friendly would surely chisel a dent in his brick wall eventually. I’d get him to like me. Or at least coax a real smile out of him if it killed me.
After clicking on my seat belt, I ran a hand over the immaculate dashboard. “Nice car! I’m surprised you got red. I’d think you were more into gray or black or maybe white? It’s a nice cherry red too. Is there a backup camera? Do those come standard these days? Ohh, do you have seat warmers?” I flipped a switch under the heating controls.
Henry sighed as he took a right turn and headed north. “The car was used for test drives. The price was excellent, and it costs too much to repaint.”
“Ah, that explains it. Oh, my ass is getting toasty! This must be awesome on those cold winter mornings.”
“Mm.”
Henry’s phone was connected to the radio, and I blinked at the words on the screen. “Dua Lipa? You’re not listening, to, like, NPR? What else is on here?” I scrolled through the playlist while Henry gave me stink eye. “Is there K-pop? Lady Gaga? I love this song!” I tapped it.