“Ten,” Eli said.
“Perfect.” Noah grabbed a pair, then brushed his mittened hand gently against Eli’s shoulder, a casual-but-not-casual touch.
They sat on a wooden bench, the river stretching out like a ribbon of silver before them. Noah slipped on his skates with practiced ease.
Eli did not.
“Okay, are these meant to feel like medieval torture devices?”
“Yes.” Noah smiled. “That means they’re on correctly.”
Eli groaned.
Noah chuckled. “All right, up you get.”
Eli stood, and immediately grabbed Noah’s arm as though the ice was out to kill him.
Noah fought a smile. “Easy, easy. I’ve got you.”
“I hate this,” Eli muttered.
“You haven’t even moved yet.”
“I hate theideaof this.”
Noah slid closer, his hands steady on Eli’s arms. “Look at me.”
Eli did, his cheeks pink from cold and probably a good dose of nerves.
“You’re not going to fall,” Noah said in a low voice.
“That’s optimistic.”
“No, that’s faith.”
Eli’s breathing hitched. “You have more faith than I do.”
They stepped onto the ice together, Eli clinging to Noah with both hands, his knees locked, his expression somewhere between terror and indignation.
“Why do people do this voluntarily?” Eli hissed.
“Because it’s fun.”
“This isnotfun.”
“It will be.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Itwill,” Noah promised. “Mostly because I know a secret cheat.”
Eli glared. “What cheat?”
“Let me move your feet for you.”
“No—”
Noah took Eli’s hands in his, backing up slowly, guiding him forward. Eli stumbled once, twice, but Noah kept him steady, their arms locked, their breaths visible between them in the crisp air.
