“Yeah,” she says eventually, her voice small. “I guess I have.”
“Not anymore.”
She looks up, and the intensity in her eyes pulls me under. For a moment, it’s like time slows; it’s just me and her. I want toreach out, to brush that stubborn strand of hair back from her face, to give her something solid to lean on, but I don’t.
“Jesus,” she says finally, a weak, uneven laugh breaking the stillness. “When did you get so… wise, or whatever?”
“Been wise for years,” I say with a grin, keeping it light ‘cause I can tell she needs that. “You’re just finally catching on.”
That earns me a faint laugh, real this time, and my heart beats out of comfort instead of concern.
“God, your head must be so big. All that wisdom stuffed in there,” she shoots back, her lips curving into something closer to a real smile.
“It’s exhausting, really,” I deadpan.
She nudges me lightly with her knee, but her eyes dart to mine just a second longer than necessary. The warmth in that look hits me straight in the gut, and I find myself leaning in, just barely, caught between wanting to pull her closer and holding myself back.
Before I can say anything, she clears her throat and glances out the window like it’s way more interesting than whatever just happened. Her shoulders go stiff, and the moment’s gone before I can hold onto it.
“So, what now?” I ask, pushing through the sudden tension binding my shoulders. “You sticking around here for a while?”
“I don’t want to intrude,” her fingers returning to the strap of her bag, twisting again.
“You’re not intruding,” I say firmly. “And if you want to stick around after skating, you’re welcome to. Serena won’t objectas per your bestie policy, and Ma? She’ll guilt you into staying afterwards for dessert. Bet on it.”
She allows space for silence, her fingers freezing mid-twist before her hand falls into her lap.
“Thanks, Jared,” she says, pausing in between words, like she’s letting herself settle into their weight. “I mean it.”
I nod, my throat tightening because it feels like the most honest thing I’ve heard all day.
Her phone buzzes from her bag. She glances at it, typing out a quick reply before locking her phone and meeting my gaze.
“My mom,” her brow furrows, then she chuckles in disbelief. “She… she said she’s proud of me. Said no one’s ever stood up toTíaMary like that.”
I can’t help the satisfied smirk that pulls at my lips. “Told you.”
“Yeah, I guess you did.”
Before I can say anything else, Serena’s voice barks inside, her head popping into the entryway. “Are you two still sitting there? Hurry up and eat so we can go!” Her grin is pure, noisy joy. “What, did I miss something?”
“Not a thing,” I say flatly, pushing up to my feet.
Alli looks up at me, hesitation flashing across her face before she reaches for my hand. The instant her fingers slide into mine, the heat of it burns deeper than it should. For half a second, she doesn’t let go when I pull her to her feet, and when she finally does, my palm feels colder.
“Let’s go,” her voice barely audible as she brushes past me toward the door.
And like a goddamn moth to a flame, I follow her.
The rink’s packed, twinkling lights throwing a warm glow over the ice. Families and couples skate hand in hand, their laughter drifting through the cold night air. Serena and Tyler are already out there, gliding like pros—because of course they are. Tyler’s annoyingly good at everything.
Alli kneels beside me, carefully tying her skates, her brows pinched together in concentration. She yanks the lace tight, and I hear her hiss as it slips through her fingers.
“You’re going to cut off your circulation,” I say, keeping my voice light, smiling despite myself.
Her scowl deepens. “I’m tying them tight so I don’t fall.”
“Falling is half the fun,” I counter, crouching down to help, my fingers brushing against her leg as I gently nudge her hands out of the way.
