NHL 8

If an emergency had occurred, I knew he would have spread his arms and caught me just like before, so I felt relieved knowing I could stop easily and without getting hurt. I had that much faith and trust in Dylan.

However, when skating side-by-side, I cannot rely entirely on a teacher who is no longer there to catch me. My unstable center of gravity kept making me tense.

Even so, Dylan watched Joeon—who was trying his best to match his speed without a single complaint—with an affectionate gaze.

“You’re doing well. If you feel like your body is leaning forward, pick up a little more speed.”

“I’m scared I’ll fall again.”

“Once you find your balance, you can just slow down again.”

Dylan continued to skate with Joeon even while giving advice. He kept his arms extended long to the sides so their skate blades wouldn’t accidentally clash. Even though it must have been cumbersome, he insisted on this new position.

“John, by the way, do you know what?”

Joeon waited for what would come next, but when Dylan said nothing, he turned his head to find him. Dylan, standing only a short distance away, was waving both hands in the air.

“Huh? Huh?”

Joeon immediately turned his head back to the front. Dylan’s light voice drifted over from the side as he drew circles and stepped freely on the ice.

“You’re skating well on your own now without holding hands. Very good. You learn really fast, don’t you?”

“What did you say?”

Joeon, who had retorted in a tone of disbelief, moved his legs with all his might. Every now and then, whenever his balance wavered, he had to flap his arms like wings, but because his speed was so fast, he had no choice but to keep moving forward. It was because he still didn’t know how to stop skillfully. Only after moving a few more meters in that state did Joeon open his mouth.

“No, I want to stop now, I’m going to stop. It’s hard. Stop…, please help me stop. Yes?”

“Try it on your own.”

Dylan danced, drawing smooth S-shapes on the ice rink—white like drawing paper—as if he were teasing him. If it weren’t for his large frame, one would have guessed he was someone who had learned figure skating for a long time, not hockey.

“Can’t you catch me a little? Yes? I feel like I’m going to fall.”

“Don’t be scared. You’re doing fine.”

“Dylan!”

When Joeon shouted urgently, only then could the sound of crunching ice be heard. Dylan, who had blocked his path, grabbed his shoulders and brought his body—which had frozen like a log—to a halt. Perhaps because he had skated so hard, Joeon’s eyes, terrified, were as bloodshot as his red-flushed cheeks.

“I’m going to stop now. I can’t do it.”

At the declaration of giving up that he gasped out with difficulty while catching his breath, the expression of Dylan, who had been standing quietly, turned quite serious. He soothed Joeon in a low, quiet voice.

“Is it because I was teasing you? I’m sorry. But don’t give up.”

His expression changed like an uncle soothing a sulking nephew. Joeon shouted while his wrist was being held by the man who kept trying to soothe him.

“That’s not it…. I’m not someone who runs much anyway. I’m dying of exhaustion!”

“Ah…”

Dylan burst into laughter.

“It’s maintenance time. Everyone, please come out.”

Right on cue, the employee’s instructions were heard. Dylan supported the exhausted Joeon and headed toward the gate. As soon as he walked on the rubber mat laid out on the floor and barely reached the bench, Joeon plopped down.

He was completely drained after only running a little bit. If you looked at Joeon, you could see how stiff a person’s body becomes when they are tense. Because the moment he let go of that tension, he became limp like an invertebrate. The contrast in his muscle changes was enough to surprise Joeon himself.

As he hurriedly took off his padded jacket due to the heat rising from his body, sweat trickled down his spine. He had worked out so hard that steam was rising from his body and his leg muscles were twitching.

“You’ll catch a cold like that. Keep at least this draped over you.”

Dylan, in the middle of packing his bag, draped the padded jacket that had slid off Joeon’s shoulders back over him. Then, with skillful hands, he took off his skates. Having changed back into his walkers in an instant, he sat on the floor and placed his hand over Joeon’s skates.

“It’s okay, I’ll do it.”

“Just loosen the other side. We have more work left to do.”

“Work? Is there anything else?”

Because Dylan wouldn’t tell him more, Joeon silently changed into his snow boots. Even though he was touching the ground in shoes that were flat without skate blades, he still felt like he would slip if he stood on tiptoe. His body, which had become accustomed to the ice, still remembered only the friction of the ice. It was a strange feeling.

Joeon, who had shaken off all the ice stuck to the blades and put them in his bag, looked up at Dylan and adjusted his beanie.

“What do you mean there’s more work left to do?”

Dylan tilted his head as if asking why he was asking something so obvious.

“Are you not going to pay the tuition?”

“…”

One, Dylan is not smiling. In other words, it doesn’t seem like a joke. He really means to pay the tuition.

Two, Tyler said he is a pro—probably an athlete. If that’s true, his annual salary must be quite high. Since I took up the time of such an impressive person, the amount would be considerable even if calculated by the hour.

Three, Joeon is an ordinary citizen earning a regular salary. Considering that the financial situation of a third-year office worker who has just graduated from being a fresh graduate isn’t exactly plentiful, it seems like if I pay Dylan his tuition, I’ll have to tighten my belt and live for the remaining month.

“Should I… um, how much should I give… in cash?”

After finishing his conflict, Joeon asked about the market price hesitantly, and Dylan burst into laughter, crinkling his eyes. Because he was laughing so hard that he was even holding his stomach, the eyes of the people changing their skates nearby were all focused on one spot. Joeon, flustered, pulled his beanie down and covered his mouth with his muffler.

“John, you really are…”

Dylan, who had been laughing while even wiping away the tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, finished his bout of laughter and straightened his waist. Even when he wasn’t wearing skates, he was a full head taller than Joeon.

“You’re cute. You’re so quirky that it reminds me of Lucas.”

“Who?”

“My nephew. Though he is five years old.”

“Yes? A nephew…”

Are you saying I resemble a five-year-old kid right now? Just as he was about to argue in disbelief, Dylan turned Joeon’s shoulder and pushed his back.

“Come on, let’s go! To collect my tuition.”

🏒🥅

The sound of footsteps of the two people walking side-by-side on the path leading to the main road echoed softly. Charming residential buildings decorated with warm-colored light bulbs wrapped around, with reindeer, Santa on a sled, or Nativity scenes in the front yards, continued along the street.

There were houses built with red bricks common in storybooks, and houses with white wooden planks that looked like they would fly away if the wind blew.

These days, modern houses built with rectangular frames by reviving a modern sensibility have also appeared quite often. After passing a town house block where the exteriors were identical like carbon copies, a large road appeared.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re here. Students first.”

Dylan opened the door and signaled inside with a nod as he held it for him. The place Dylan took Joeon was Tim Hortons. Although it was a cafe representing Canada, the fact that the price was excessively cheap was both an advantage and a disadvantage. This was because, at this time of year, the homeless, having escaped the cold, would often reach out with Tim Hortons paper cups and beg for money. However, perhaps because it was a late hour, the inside of the store was quite empty.

“What would you like to drink? My nephew likes hot chocolate. Once babies taste something sweet, they can’t get out of it.”

“Just a moment.”

Without even recognizing the fact that he had reached the same level as a five-year-old nephew, Joeon turned around and grabbed Dylan’s arm. He lowered his head after staring up at the menu.

“If the tuition Dylan mentioned meant something like this, wouldn’t it be better to go to a different cafe than at least here…”

“There’s only this one around here. And I’m satisfied with this place too. Hurry. I’m going to drink the same thing as John, so choose my menu.”