Tudor stood up on hearing my yelp, looked back and for the second time in our short friendship, I smacked into him, taking us both to the ice at an ungodly speed. Tudor’s arms gripped me around the waist and he twisted, taking the brunt of the fall, leaving me directly on top and straddling him.

He looked up at me, my gloved palms resting on either side of his head. We said nothing for a long time.

I tried to wriggle off him and he sucked in a pained breath and stopped me with a tightening of his fingers on my hips. “Don’t. Move,” he said through gritted teeth.

Then I felt it, a hardening, and I blushed. Tudor’s eyes squeezed shut and his chest was rising and falling in an erratic motion.

Say something, break the tension. Erm, what the heck do I do?

“My, my, Mr. North. Is that a puck in your pants or are you just pleased to see me?” I quipped in a breathless voice.

Tudor instantly opened his eyes and just stared at me. I couldn’t break away from the tractor beams pulling me in.

Shit, wrong time to joke?

He sighed heavily, lifted my hips up with his hands and proceeded to shake his head and laugh.

“Come on, smart mouth. Time to call it a day.”

We got up carefully, trying not to press on any forbidden body parts, and he adjusted the crotch of his jeans discreetly, but not so discreetly that I couldn’t sneak a peek at the extra-large hockey stick he was trying to tuck into the waistband of his jeans.

We reached land, changed into our shoes and sat for a few silent minutes on the verge, just taking in the stunning winter wonderland in front of us. I didn’t know what to say. Talk about an awkward situation.

“You did well today, Tash,” he said, finally breaking me out of my embarrassed trance.

“Ha! Yeah, I reckon I could go to the next Olympics,” I answered sarcastically.

He grunted in amusement once under his breath.

I grimaced. “Sorry about practically dry-humping you.”

He stared at me and slowly lifted one side of his mouth in amusement. “You certainly have a way with words, Tash, eh?”

“For sure!” I replied, mimicking his Canadian accent.

He patted my leg. “Come on let’s go get a coffee, I think we could use one.”

He helped me up, and tied my skate laces together to put them over his shoulder along with his own to carry back to his Jeep.

We were about to head back to the car when I heard my favourite song, ‘Beneath Your Beautiful’, playing quietly. I began looking around for the source when Tudor unzipped his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. It was his ring tone.

He answered the call, staring piercingly at my gaping expression, his body as stiff as a board. “Hello…Yeah… I’m out at the minute…When? I’ll come immediately… No problem… I’ll speak to you soon.”

He shut off his phone without even saying a goodbye to the caller and dropped his head, shuffling his feet. My mouth opened and closed. I tried to say something. Anything. But nothing came out.

Why did he have that song as his ringtone? Does it remind him of me? Of that night? The night we have never addressed? Come on, Tash, embrace it. Now’s a good time to tell him how you feel. Man up! You like him, so tell him.

I edged towards Tudor and said in a hushed tone, "Tudor? Why do you have that song? I'm probably totally off the mark, but... but... do you like me? Because, I... I like you, and–"

He snapped his head up, his eyes penetrating mine with an unforgiving and icy stare. “I really like that song, don’t read anything into it, okay? It means nothing. We are nothing. I don't like you like that. You’re not my type and you’re my sister’s teacher for God’s sake!” he barked out harshly.

I swallowed and flinched, moving my head away from the sharp edge of his cutting words.

He took a step in the same direction, refusing to move from my direct line of sight. “Understood?” he growled.

I couldn’t say anything. How could I, when a hole the size of the Grand Canyon had just been punched into my heart?

“Tell me, damn it!” he snapped.

I nodded my head once in comprehension. Don’t worry Tudor, I’ve got it. Message received.

"Completely understood." I whispered in mortification.

And that was that, he turned and began striding away, silencing any further conversation on the subject.

I stood for a minute on my own, controlling my breathing and rubbing my chest, soothing the pain piercing my heart. Eventually, I forced my feet to move and set off, leaving the pond and my dignity behind.

When I got to the car, Tudor was already inside with the engine running, his fists clenched around the steering wheel, causing his knuckles to turn white. I climbed in the back, as far away from him as possible, and he drove off, turning the radio on loud and taking me straight home without any form of communication.

He pulled to a stop outside of my complex and kept his gaze straight ahead, grinding his teeth so hard it was audible. “I have to go back home, my agent needs to speak to me. I don’t know when I’ll see you again. I have a lot on at the moment,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

As I started to reply, he cut in adding, “Actually maybe it’s best if we don’t see each other again. I'm not so sure our friendship was such a good idea after all. You have feelings for me that I don’t return.”

He sounded distant and cold, not the Tudor I’d come to know.

I let out an exhausted, humiliated sigh, willing myself not to cry. “Fine, Tudor, have it your way. See you around… maybe. Just, do me a favour and forget what I said back at the pond. I don't know what I was thinking, it was silly of me... obviously, and probably the most embarrassing moment of my life, not that you’d care, but...”