I let out a laugh, bright, unrestrained, alive, and it echoed through the cavernous rink like music.
When I coasted into the half-wall, breathless and flushed and utterly exhilarated, Alex was there waiting. And the look on his face was pure awe and warm pride.
“You,” he said, voice low, “are unbelievable.”
My heart stuttered. “Alex?—”
“No, really,” he said, stepping closer, eyes shining. “Look at you. You’re incredible.”
I felt myself glowing. Literally glowing. Heat simmered under my skin, not from skating, but from him, from being seen in a way I’d almost forgotten was possible.
Before I could catch my breath, Mel rolled up beside us, smirking like she’d been waiting for her cue.
“Well, well, well,” she purred. “Look who’s found her groove.”
I laughed, still panting. “I don’t know if I’d call it a groove.”
“I would,” Alex murmured.
That didn’t help my blushing situation.
“All right,” Mel said dramatically, hands on her hips. “Time for phase two.”
“Phase two?” I squeaked.
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Backwards skating.”
“Oh God.”
She demonstrated effortlessly rolling backward as smoothly as breathing, knees soft, hips loose, arms trailing in easy balance. She made it look like the simplest motion on earth.
“Start by making a C with your skates.”
I tried.
I failed. Immediately.
After a few minutes of me nearly reenacting every wipeout moment from a ‘90s skate video, Mel lifted her hands in surrender.
“Okay,” she declared, “you need a break, and I need to go check the chili. Don’t die.”
Her eyes flicked to Alex.
“And Prince Charming? Don’t let her die.”
Alex grinned. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Mel pushed off toward the back, gliding like her skates were extensions of her body.
Then, because she was Mel, she hit a switch on the wall as she disappeared.
Instantly, the rink changed.
The overhead lights dimmed. The disco ball flickered to life in a wash of silver sparkles. Soft pink and purple lights drifted lazily across the floor. And a warm, poppy love ballad filled the air.
I stared.
“Really?” I muttered.
