I want him far beyond what I can have and what he's willing to offer me. I want to show him new things. I want to be the reason for his surprised looks and thrilled laughs. And although it riles me up like nothing else, I want him to tell me I have a weak-ass backhand. I want to chase him across the ice just to hear him tell me to try better next time. I settle for sliding my hand over his hip, letting it rest there carefully. I’ve never dreaded the end of a season more than this one.
