“Don’t get cocky,” I snap, no heat behind my words. If anything, his confidence in me is starting to rub off—just the babiestbit.
Easton grins, skating with ease, his hands still connected to mine, his steady encouragement just managing to keep me fromfreaking the frickout!
“Look at you go!” he declares. “You’re a natural!”
“Oh, stop.” I smile, likeno big deal. “Like riding a bike.”
“Exactly like riding a bike.” He nods, gaze locking on mine.
The corners of his mouth tip up into a smile, and there’s something about the way he’s looking at me…it has me shivering, a full-body shiver that’s a mix of nerves and the cold andexcitement. His eyes narrow slightly, catching the movement, and he tilts his head to study me.
“Are you cold?” he asks, his voice softening as he slows to a stop in front of me. “You want to go back? Warm up?”
“No!” I shake my head quickly. “No—I’m good.”
It’s a lie. I am cold—but that’s not the reason I shivered.
It’s him.
The way his thumb is lightly brushing the back of my palm. The way his eyes linger on mine. The way he looks like he has something he wants to say.
“What?” I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His gaze drops to where our hands are joined before flicking back up to meet mine. There’s a hesitation in his expression now, something nervous and deliberate—like he’s gearing up for something big.
Oh my god.
Is this it? Is he about to ask me to prom?
IS THAT THE SOMETHING BIG?
My heart pounds so loudly I swear can hear it drumming in my ears.
This has to be the moment.The dreamy gaze. The quiet tension. The fact that we’re holding hands in the middle of an empty rink like some kind of romantic comedy cliché.
Even though it’s not the public promposal I wanted, this is literallysoperfect!
I hold my breath, pulse racing as I breathlessly wait for him to say those seven words:WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME?
“Why are you looking at me that way?” I ask again, my voice tentative, the anticipation making my knees wobble.
He blinks, his grin faltering. “How am I looking at you?”
“Oh—you knowhow you’re looking at me.”Like you have something you’re dying to ask and you waited until Macy was in the car so you could do it privately!
SO ROMANTIC. I practically squeal in delight.
“Why are you being weird?” Easton raises an eyebrow, hand still holding mine as we glide across the ice. “Do you think I’m up to something?”
I nudge him as we slowly skate along. “Well…areyou?”
I keep my tone light—flirty—giving him the perfect opening for a grand gesture: the setting, the mood,the way he’s holding my hand like we’re on an actual date.
He cocks his head, giving me a sidelong glance, his grin widening as he moves, stopping in front of me. Oh god, oh god, oh god! This is it!
“Harper.” The teasing edge is gone. “You’re terrible at hiding what you’re thinking, you know that?”
“Pfft.” My pulse quickens, and I swallow hard. “You know what I’m thinking about?” How could he possibly?
