She rolled her eyes, but she was fighting a smile now. This felt almost normal, like before, when we could just exist in the same space without the heaviness of everything pressing down on us, suffocating us. I wanted, no, I needed this more than anything.
“Fine.” She pushed off, skating past me with casual grace. “But don’t come crying to me when I leave you in myinferiordust.”
I abandoned the puck and followed her, matching her pace easily. Side by side, we carved loops around the rink; the only sounds were our blades slicing into the ice.
“So,” she said after a moment of silence. “Last night was... nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She glanced over at me. “It felt like old times. Before everything got so...”
“Complicated?”
“I was going to say weird, but that works too.”
Everything had gotten so complicated, all because I couldn’t get my shit together, and I honestly had no idea how to fix any of it, but I wanted to.
We skated in silence for another lap.
“Thank you,” she said suddenly. “For coming over and for the pizza and for...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “For not making it weird.”
“I thought you said it was already weird.”
“It is. But last night was...” She searched for the word. “Somehow less weird.”
I laughed. “I’ll take it.”
She smiled, and I felt it with my whole heart.
“Show me something,” I said impulsively.
“Like what?”
“A figure skating thing. One of your twirly moves.”
She gave me a skeptical look. “You want me to perform for you?”
“Not perform. Just...” I struggled to explain what I wanted. I wanted to see her in her element. “Show me what you love about skating.”
She studied me like she was trying to figure out if I was serious.
“Okay,” she said finally. “But you have to stay over here. I need space.”
I raised my hands in surrender and drifted toward the boards, giving her the center of the rink.
Harlow sucked in a deep breath, rolled her shoulders, and then she was moving.
It was different, watching her like this, not from the shadows of the stands like some creepy stalker, but up close, invited. She built speed with long, powerful strokes, her form perfect, and then she launched into a spin that started slow and accelerated until she was a blur of blonde hair and graceful limbs.
When she came out of it, arms extended, she transitioned perfectly into a series of footwork that I couldn’t begin to understand but knew was technically demanding.
She was breathtaking.
Not just physically, but the way she moved, the joy that radiated from every ounce of her body.
She finished with a slower spin, and when she stopped, her chest was heaving, her cheeks were flushed, and she was smiling.
“Well?” She skated toward me, slightly breathless. “Still think it’s just twirly stuff?”
