My heart is beating so loud I'm convinced he can hear it.
"Still not attached?" he murmurs.
"Still not."
He narrows his eyes. "Good."
My heart lurches.
And finally,finally-
His lips press to mine.
The kiss starts soft. Testing.
Then it deepens.
It's not frantic, not reckless like some of our other kisses. This one seems . . . more somehow and that scares me.
His hand slides up my back. Mine tangle in his hair. The world narrows to breath and warmth and the scrape of blades shifting under us.
The heavy rink door slams.
The sound echoes through the building.
We shift apart and I almost fall in my haste to put space between us. If it weren't for Asher's hands still on my hips I think I would've hit the ice.
Footsteps on rubber flooring.
My stomach drops.
"No one comes here this late," I whisper. I'd never seen anyone here when Charlotte and I came to use the rink.
He's already scanning the ice, the stands.
"Locker rooms," he mutters.
He grabs my hand and we push off fast.
We don't stop to untie our skates. We stumble down the rubber hallway, blades clacking awkwardly.
I laugh bubbles up my throat; one I try to squash.
"Now?" he hisses, trying not to smile.
"This is ridiculous."
"Shit."
He pulls me into the nearest room and shuts the door.
It's an equipment cupboard.
Dark. Narrow. Shelves stacked high. The smell of rubber and tape and cold air.
It's only once we stop and take a breath, I realise how small the cupboard is and that every inch of Asher is pressed against every inch of me. That we're still holding hands. That my heart is beating a too hard, too fast. And I don't know if that is because of Asher or the fact we were almost just caught.
I breathe hard, looking up at Asher through my lashes.
