Her entire face lit up like she’d swallowed the sun. She spotted me instantly.
Before I could stand fully, sheran.
Straight to me.
Laughing breathlessly, eyes bright, she barreled into my arms with enough force that I staggered back a step. I caught her anyway. Of course I did. My arms wrapped around her like they’d been designed for exactly this moment.
“Oh my god,” she gasped into my chest. “Alex. I did it.”
I held her tighter, dizzy with pride. “You did more than that. El, you were incredible.”
She pulled back enough to look at me, and her smile, God, that smile, hit me right in the sternum. No one should be able tosmile like that after skating for an hour straight, but she could. She did.
“Really?” she asked, a little breathless, a little disbelieving.
“Really,” I said. “I watched the whole thing. You were one of the best out there.”
Her cheeks flushed deeper than they already were. “I was terrified.”
“I couldn’t tell,” I said, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. “You looked strong and confident.”
She laughed, a soft, disbelieving sound, and rested her forehead against mine for a second, just long enough to steal my breath.
The rink slowly emptied as Mel dismissed everyone, and the skaters trickled off the floor, some limping, some laughing, all sweaty and exhausted. I grabbed her skate bag before she could protest. She was still riding the post-tryout high, talking faster than I’d ever heard her talk. We crossed the parking lot together, her steps light and bouncy even though she’d just spent two hours pushing her body to its limit.
“And then Mel said my crossovers were actually improving, and Robin said I wasn’t terrible, which I’m pretty sure is derby for pretty good, and they’re announcing who made the team this week—Thursday or Friday?—but there are only two openings, and I don’t want to get my hopes up, because that’s?—”
She kept going, breathless and glowing, hands flying as she described every drill, every whistle, every moment she thought she’d messed up but didn’t.
It was adorable.
We reached the car, and I opened her door for her. She barely paused in her story as she slid in, buckled her seatbelt, and launched into another explanation of the weave pattern and how shealmosttripped but didn’t.
I wasn’t hearing all of it anymore. I was watching her. Her flushed cheeks. Her spark-bright eyes. The blue streaks slipping loose around her face. The way her lungs filled with pride, not fear. The way she finally,finally,looked like someone who took up space on purpose.
She kept talking.
And I leaned in.
Before I knew what I was doing, before I could think about timing or hesitating or whether this was smart or reasonable, I slid one hand to the side of her jaw and kissed her.
Just a small kiss at first, gentle, tentative, a question I didn’t say out loud.
But she answered it.
She made a soft sound, barely audible, and her hand curled into my shirt, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened instinctively, like something we’d both been holding back broke free all at once.
I poured everything into it. The pride I felt watching her, the way watching her skate had knocked the breath out of me.
She pulled back eventually—breathless, wide-eyed, lips flushed.
“What . . . what was that for?” she whispered.
I didn’t even try to hide how dazed I felt. I leaned back in and kissed her again. Though it was quick this time, soft, but full of truth, and then rested my forehead against hers.
“I just wanted to,” I murmured.
Her breath hitched.
