He looks at my ice fox, then at me.
“You finished it,” he says.
I nod. “Jamie said not to stop until I could give it a nine out of ten. Not sure it’s done.”
“What’s it missing?”
I look at him. “I don’t know.”
We stand there, quiet. The distant clang of people closing down for tonight is buffered by the newly fallen snow and the cold air.
Roe moves closer, looking at the sculpture. Looking at me.
“I had fun today. On the ice.” The warmth of his breath creates a little white cloud that dances over my own skin.
“Me too.”
He steps forward. Closer. Roe doesn’t break eye contact until his eyelashes flutter against his face as he takes a deep breath, realizing I’m not stepping back, not creating distance between us.
“Gabe.”
And then—
It just happens.
Later, it’ll seem inevitable. Obvious.
His hand finds mine—tentative at first, like he’s testing it—and when I don’t pull away, he steps in closer. Close enough to feel his breath now in the cold. Close enough that the world falls away. Close enough to tangle us together.
There’s something raw about the look on his face. Something that tells me he wants this as much as I do.
His other hand finds my face then his mouth brushes mine—soft, cautious, a question.
I answer.
It’s not perfect. It’s a little clumsy, a little unsteady. But it’s also electric—like flying down the ice for the first time or seeing what a piece of wood could be and freeing it from it’s formerlife. Things that make you feel like you’re coming apart. Defining kinds of things.
When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his, my breath fogging between us, betraying the unnatural way I’m breathing.
“One kiss isn’t enough,” he whispers, tugging my mouth back to his.
“Ground rules,” I say, meaning to put a hand between us, but I end up pulling him closer for another kiss instead of setting any rules.
“Ground rules are for tomorrow,” he argues against my lips.
Chapter eleven
Roe Monroe
The Bench Social Media Group
Marge: In a development that shocks no one but has melted all available ice in Fox River Falls, I think I stumbled upon an intimate moment between Thatch and Roe
Riley: What did you see?!
Marge: One hell of a kiss. Also, please, someone check on Roe. He looked like he saw God and then remembered he still has to play hockey
Alex: I hate to break tradition, but we need to let this be. At least for a bit. They have this now.
