He laughs at something the other player says, his head tipping back slightly. The sound doesn’t reach me, but I can see it in the way his shoulders loosen.
I wonder, suddenly, what it would feel like to be that comfortable in your body.
To not be bracing for impact all the time.
I focus on the rink, on the noise, on the warmth of the cup in my hands. I can do this. I can stand here. I can be perceived for another hour. I can survive.
I last exactly forty-seven more minutes at the rink.
Which is impressive, considering my body is still vibrating with a mix of adrenaline, humiliation, and that particular brand of social exhaustion that comes from being watched.
The next part of the charity event is an auction. Silent auction tables line the concourse, covered in clipboards and display cards that scream wholesome fundraising: spa packages, restaurant gift cards, and a signed Grizzlies stick that has a group of dads hovering around it like moths to a porch light.
Leo hovers too, because Leo is never not hovering. At one point, he points at the Grizzlies’ stick and says, “I should bid on that.”
Tess doesn’t even look up from the clipboard she’s reviewing. “You don’t need a stick.”
“It’s not about need,” Leo says solemnly. “It’s about dominance.”
“Leo.”
He smiles sweetly at her. “Yes, my love?”
Tess closes her eyes like she’s counting to ten. “Do not start a charity bidding war with Rex Chen.”
Leo perks up. “He’s here?”
Tess’s eyes open. “Yes. You didn’t see him?”
Leo’s gaze scans the crowd with the intensity of a man hunting for sport. “Where?”
“Oh my God,” I mutter into my hot chocolate.
I follow their line of sight and spot Rex Chen about fifteen feet away, immaculate as always, like he was poured into a coat that costs more than my monthly groceries. He’s standing beside Leo’s friend Julian, the one from their Midnight Mavericks crew.
Julian is animated, gesturing with one hand as he talks, his expression bright and sharp. Rex looks like he wants to throw Julian into Lake Michigan.
Enemies. Noted. Filed away for later gossip consumption.
Leo spots them too, and his whole face lights up like Christmas came early.
Tess catches his sleeve. “No.”
Leo turns to her, scandalized. “Yes.”
“No,” she repeats, firmer.
Leo looks at me, pleading. “Gwen.”
I take a slow sip of hot chocolate. “I am neutral. Like a cat. Watching. Judging.”
Tess shoots me a look. “Do not encourage him.”
I shrug. “I’m not encouraging. I’m supporting his journey.”
Leo beams. “Thank you.”
Tess mutters, “I’m surrounded by chaos goblins,” and tightens her grip on Leo’s sleeve.
