Free Crossing the Ice by Jennifer Comeaux

Ronnie said. “If you know any other popular songs, feel free to get creative. Just keep in mind who your audience is.”
    Josh and I smiled at each other, knowing very well the crowd’s demographic. Ronnie moved from behind the bar to greet two regulars, and I turned to Josh with my arms folded and my head cocked to the side.
    “So, you’re an athlete, a dancer and a musician? If you tell me you’re a skilled artist, I’m gonna have to hate you.”
    He laughed. “I can barely draw a stick figure.”
    “Whew.” I swiped my hand across my forehead.
    “Even if I was the next Picasso, though, I wouldn’t have told you.” He paused and held my gaze. “I don’t like the idea of you hating me.”
    My stomach fluttered. Josh didn’t often make extended eye contact, but whenever he locked those sinfully blue eyes on mine, I became a mesmerized puddle of swoon.
    “I um… I could never really hate you.” I broke away from his gaze as my heart beat in double time, and I scrambled to laugh off the whole thing. “You’re too good a tipper.”
    I zoomed away and kept myself busy with the other bar patrons, not returning to Josh’s spot until he’d departed for the piano. I picked up his empty plate and found underneath it my tip and a beverage napkin containing a doodle. Looking closer, I saw it was a stick figure person playing a very lopsided piano. Written below it was — Any requests?
    I grinned and slipped the napkin into the pocket of my apron. After clearing the dishes, I plucked a dollar bill from my purse and went over to the piano.
    “There shall be no judgment passed on my request.” I dropped the money into the empty glass on the piano. “I’d like to hear ‘Over the Rainbow.’”
    His eyebrows rose with amusement. “ Wizard of Oz fan?”
    “I was obsessed with it as a child. I drew a yellow brick chalk road down the sidewalk by my house. There was also a very unhealthy attachment to a stuffed dog named Toto, but I digress…”
    Josh chuckled, and I continued, “I know the sheet music for the song should be here because I’ve heard Barry play it.”
    He cracked his knuckles. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”
    He set his fingers lightly on the keys and rattled off the first few bars before looking up at me with a smile. I rested my elbows on the shiny black lid of the piano and leaned forward.
    “You really know that song by heart?”
    “If I tell you something, you promise not to hate me?”
    Dude, if you only knew how far I was from hating you.
    “You’re some kind of musical savant, aren’t you?” I asked.
    “I have this thing where I can learn music by ear and never forget it.”
    “And I ask you again — why are you going to be a lawyer?”
    “Courtney!” one of the waiters called to me from the bar.
    “Oops, I gotta go. I’ll be waiting for my song!”
    I scrambled back to my post and hurriedly filled the drink order waiting for me. Josh looked very serious as he flipped through the song book. Soon the sounds of dinner chatter and clinking utensils were joined by the melodic tinkling of the piano, and I immediately recognized the song as “I Could’ve Danced All Night.”
    Mrs. Cassar, one of our weekend regulars, slid onto a barstool and spun it so she faced the piano. “I’ve seen that boy here before.”
    She was a brassy lady who always cracked me up, a widow who wanted to spend all her husband’s money in as many creative ways as possible.
    “His name is Josh. He actually skates at my rink.”
    “He’s simply adorable.” She ogled him shamelessly. “I could put him on a cracker.”
    I giggled and poured Mrs. Cassar’s customary glass of merlot. She took the glass in hand, but her eyes never left Josh.
    “If he skates as well as he plays piano, he must be marvelous,” she said between sips.
    “He does. He and his sister are a really beautiful pair.”
    “He skates with his sister? Isn’t pairs skating supposed to be romantic ?” She breathed out the