I snorted out a laugh as I clumsily got to my feet. The beta was growing on me.
“Come on, slowpokes!” Westin shouted.
“I thought omegas were supposed to be quiet and reserved,” Henry said, his knuckles white as he gripped the side of the rink.
“Like you’d want her any other way,” Liam said, cracking a smile.
“So true,” Henry said. He took a deep breath and then stepped onto the rink, clinging onto the edge for dear life as he started shuffling around the edges.
I stepped into the rink, clenching my muscles as I tried to look calm and collected. The ground looked fucking far away.
Westin skated up next to me, almost taking me out in her effort to stop. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re trying to torture me,” I grumbled.
Her smile fell slightly and I cursed myself. I grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight. “I’m sorry, just ignore me, love.”
“We don’t have to…”
I cut her off with a kiss.
“The only thing you need to worry about right now is having fun, princess.”
“Thanks, daddy,” she said, giving me another kiss before skating away to “Get Down On It.”
I made a few slow rotations around the rink, secretly pleased that I at least hadn’t fallen. The same couldn’t be said for Liam and Henry, who had both given up and were sitting in the middle of the floor as Westin skated circles around them.
“Now it’s time for limbo,” the old man announced in a bored monotone over the speaker system.
“Is this a fever dream?” Henry asked as the old man and pimply teenager walked onto the rink with a wooden pole, holding it up between them.
“Yeah!” Westin shouted, skating towards them at full speed. She ducked in time, but then slammed herself into the back wall.
A bolt of anxiety shot through me that she’d hurt herself, and I skated as fast as I could toward her. She whirled around as I approached the limbo pole.
“Limbo time, Gray!” she shouted, throwing both hands in the air.
I hunched down and shuffled under the stick, only because it was the fastest way to get to her.
And because she wanted me to.
“Are you okay?” I asked, grabbing hold of her once she was within my reach.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you don’t fucking know how to brake, apparently.”
“Are you stressed?” she asked, twirling out of my hold.
“Yes,” I answered dryly.
She just snorted.
“And this music is horrible,” I said.
“Aren’t these the songs of your youth?” she asked.
I looked down at her with disbelief. “How fucking old do you think I am?”
