“I do. And it’s going to break you.” I bend down and slide her foot into her skate.
“I thought we were going to let me make my own decisions.”
“I’ll tell you eventually. Just not now. I want to skate and breathe, if that’s okay.” I grab her laces, wrapping them around my fingers and pulling tight.
“What are you doing? I can do that myself.”
“I want to make sure they’re nice and tight, it’s important.”
“Yeah, I know. I was—” She cuts herself off mid-sentence. “Wait. You don’t know.”
I look up and meet her eyes, sparkling with mischief. “Know what?”
“Help me up, please,” she says sweetly. I slip my hands under her arms and lift. She wobbles like she’s Bambi on ice, and I tighten my hold, arms wrapping around her and tug her to me.
“Easy there, tiger. Did you want to come out here so I’d have to hold you? Because I’m jealous I didn’t think of that first.”
She snuggles closer to my chest. “Shh,” she whispers. “I’m busy pretending I’m not a World Junior Figure Skating Champion.”
I still. “I’m sorry. What?”
She shrugs, then pushes off the edge and glides across the pond. Smooth. Effortless. Her blades whisper over the ice. Like a lovestruck idiot, I stand near the bench, my hands hidden in my pockets, and watch her twirl on the ice, as if the frozen surface were her home.
She jumps. Spins. Lands clean. Graceful.
Out of all the accolades I could pour over her, graceful would be near the bottom, but at this…she’s a natural. It feels like we were both born here.
My chest aches. She’s not just beautiful. She’s everything.
She catches me staring and I don’t bother to hide it admiring her flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and red hair spilling out of her hat and sparkling in the lights. Every time she looks at me, I swear I forget how to breathe.
The ice has always been my home. The place where a quiet mind and mouth was okay. Since yesterday, Natalie’s been slowly fading into the same feeling, like my internal screaming is finding a chair with a footstool by a fire, settling in, and quieting. So finding that she and I can share a home here, well, she really couldn’t be more perfect for me.
She circles back and glides right up to me with a grin spread wide across her face. “Whatchu thinking about sugarplum?”
“You really don’t want to know what’s going on in my head right now,” I say. My voice comes out hoarse.
“I really do, though,” she teases, grabbing fists of my jacket and pulling me closer.
“You. Always fucking you,” I murmur, pressing my forehead to hers.
She laughs softly. “That sounds terrible.”
“It’s usually miserable,” I admit. “But you… fuck, Natalie. You’re incredible.”
“You really like me, huh?” she teases, her lips just inches from mine.
“I liked you when I met you.” My hands grasp her waist. “I don’t know if there’s a word for how I feel now.”
She kisses me—quick at first, just a brush of her lips against mine—but I don’t let her go.
I sigh softly and kiss her back. The kiss develops into something deeper, and our lips move together in a slow dance. My hands tighten at her hips, pulling her flush against me. Powdered sugar still faintly lingers on her lips as I taste every ounce of her.
When she finally pulls back, her breath catches, fogging between us.
“Maybe,” she murmurs, voice low enough that it vibrates straight through me, “if you’re agood boylater, I’ll let you show me how much you like me instead.”
My heart stutters. Heat shoots through me, sharp and hot despite the cold.
