“You’re going to be incredible.” I squeeze his hands, then push off with more confidence than skill. Miraculously, I manage something that almost resembles a glide.
“See? You’re getting it.” The pride on his face makes the victory all the more sweet.
“I’m barely moving.” I shuffle a little more, but don’t pick up speed.
“You’re doing it.” He circles me, one hand out in case I need it. “Want to try on your own?”
I clasp onto him. Part of me wants to prove I can do it—my gaze drops to where our hands are linked—but then I wouldn’t havethis. “Absolutely not.”
We keep at it. Miles eventually lets go, hovering close and catching me every time I start to fall. Which is still often. But slowly, I get the hang of it.
By the time the sun dips low, casting long shadows across the ice, I’m actually skating. Sort of.
“Now, teach me to do one of those spinny things.”
“Nope.” His laugh carries across the ice as he watches me, hands tucked into his pockets.
“Why not?”
He moves to keep me in sight. “Because I’d like you to leave this pond without a concussion.”
“Do you see me?” I call out, slowly looping around the small pond. “I’m skating. I’m a natural?—”
The toe of my skate catches, and I windmill my arms,barelystaying upright. When I recover, I throw my arms out to the side and bow a little.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. Then louder, “We should head back. Sun’ll be going down soon.”
I tilt my face to the sky. Orange bleeds at the edges, but there’s still light left.
“I don’t wanna.” It comes out petulant, but I don’t even care.
I don’t want this day to end. Don’t want to return to the real world, where Boone’s waiting with his impossible standards that I’m constantly failing to meet.
Here, on this pond with Miles, I’m not the struggling songwriter. I’m just… happy.
Friendship was an impulsive decision, and not a particularly well-thought-out one on my part. I knew that even when I said it. But I figured the chemistry between us would cool. I didn’t think I’d keep finding new things to like about him. My coffee made just right, the way he clearly cares but can’t quite decide whether he’s allowed to show it, how he brought me to this hidden pond—one of his favorite places. Chemistry, I could’ve handled. This is something else entirely.
He moves, fast and unfairly smooth. When he reaches me, he turns and skates backward, keeping pace with my short strides. His expression softens.
“What?”
“You’re like a kid.” He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his mouth. “I like seeing you like this. Unguarded and present. Happy.”
“You make it easy.” My heart pounds at my own honesty. “Your company isn’t so bad,” I add, lighter.
He drifts closer and closer, until his breath practically fans my lips.
My heart hammers. I tilt my face up, just slightly. An invitation I don’t mean to give but can’t help. His eyes drop to my mouth. Only for a second. Just long enough for me to know he’s thinking it, too.
Then he pushes back, offering his hand. “Before it gets dark.”
Right.
We head off the ice. He makes quick work of unlacing our skates and getting us back into our boots. The walk to his truck is quieter, but still comfortable.
He tosses the skates in the trunk, and we climb in. I slip off my gloves and hold my hands up to the vents, flexing my fingers as warmth seeps back into them.
Miles starts the engine but doesn’t put the truck in drive. He sits there, hands on the wheel, staring out at the darkening woods.
