“You’ll what?”
“Nothing. Shut up. Skating isfun.”
I can’t stop grinning. She’s concentrating so hard, cheeks flushed, breath puffing little clouds between us. This close to her, the peachy scent of her shampoo makes it hard not to bury my face in her hair.
The music changes, and my chest goes tight.December Days.Felix’s band. I used to hear this song every night while I checked the soundboard and cables, half-drunk on dreams and cheap beer. Hearing it now, with Noelle’s hand in mine, is like coming home.
“Oh, I love this song,” she says quietly. “I used to play it on repeat when…” She stops, biting her lip.
“Yeah?” My voice roughens. “Felix would be pleased.”
She smiles. “I still can't believe your brother wrote this. F.J. Frost, the small-town boy who made the big time. This whole town was so proud when The Wolves hit the charts.”
“Not too big. He's back here for good now, grumpy as ever.”
“I remember when you left to tour with them.” She looks down at our joined hands.
I'm floored she remembers. “You followed the tour?”
“I maybe had a mild interest. In the music.” Her cheeks go pink. “And possibly checked the band's Instagram for tour updates.”
“For the music?”
“Yep.”
“Noelle Jolly, were you stalking me online?”
“Absolutely not. I was just… staying informed about local success stories.”
“For the town newsletter?”
“Exactly.”
“Except… you don’t write for the newsletter.”
“Icould.”
We’re both grinning now, bodies swaying slightly as we glide. Around us, people laugh and skate past, but it feels like the song and the lights have wrapped around just us. The lyrics drift through the air:‘Coming back for December, home where my heart belongs…’
“I need to tell you something,” she says.
A kid in a pink coat barrels into her before she can finish. She yelps, stumbles, and I catch her. Her body crashes against mine, her hands fisting in my jacket. My arms lock around her waist on instinct. For a second, we stare at each other, breath mingling in the cold. Her eyes flick to my mouth.
The kiss starts soft and tentative, but deepens fast. Her lips are cold and sweet. I cradle the back of her neck, thumb brushing her skin, and she makes a soft sound that nearly knocks me off my feet. She rises on her skates, one hand sliding into my hair, and the rest of the world falls away.
When she pulls back, her breathing’s uneven, lips pink and swollen from kissing. Her eyes are wide.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t?—”
“Noelle, talk to me.”
She shakes her head, backing away, unsteady. “This was a big mistake. I’m sorry.”
“Wait…”
“Please. Don’t say anything, okay? Just take me home.”
The drive back is silent. She stares out the window, fingers tight in her lap, like she’s holding herself together. I want to reach across, to touch her knee, to sayyou’re not a mistake.But something in her face stops me.
