“Evan. Do I look like someone who packed a spare pair of skates?”
His eyes drag down once, taking in my boots, then lift back to mine. “No.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
His mouth twitches, but he’s already turning. “Stay there.”
He disappears with the rest of the boys to change, and while they're gone, the rink turns into happy chaos. Kids clamber off the bleachers, parents start collecting mittens and discarded hats, and Frankie gives me a look so pointed I pretend not to see it.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Her smile stretches. “Just enjoying the show.”
“I’m not a show.”
“No,” Remi says with a grin, bouncing Zela on her hip. “You’re definitely part of one, though.”
Before I can argue, Evan comes back through the gate in a black hoodie and track pants, with a pair of skates dangling from one hand.
“These’ll be close enough,” he says as he reaches the boards.
I hesitate only half a second before sitting down on the low seat and reaching out my hand to take them. But instead, he drops to one knee in front of me, and the rink noise fades a notch in my ears.
“Foot,” he says simply, patting his thigh.
I lift it, watching as he tugs it firmly to rest on his knee, then pulls my boot off.
His fingers brush the bare skin above my sock once, then twice as he drags the edge of my leggings down to overlap my socks. Warm hands wrap around my ankle as he slides the skate on gently. He tightens the laces with firm, practiced pulls, working from the bottom up, and my whole body jolts each time he tugs the laces tight.
“You don’t have—”
“I want to.”
He says it without looking up, instead concentrating on finishing the first boot and moving to the second.
“I won’t let you fall,” he says a moment later, almost absent-mindedly.
I ignore the butterflies swarming my stomach. “That’s a bold promise.”
“I don’t make ones I can’t keep.”
That makes two of us.
He ties the final knot and leans back on his heels for a second, assessing his work. Then he holds out his hand, and I look from him to his fingers, and slowly place my palm in his.
“Stand up slow.”
I grip his hand tighter, and my other flies to his shoulder without thinking as I push to my feet. I wobble immediately, and his hand tightens around mine.
“Oh no,” I mutter. “I—I can’t do this.”
He rises, and his hands settle at my waist before I can tip sideways. “I got you.”
I can feel him trying not to smile, which makes my own mouth twist. “You better, Prince. I don’t wanna fall on my ass.”
The ice is harder and slipperier than I anticipate when I step onto it, and the second my blade meets it properly, my balance shifts in a way my body doesn’t expect.
I grab his shoulders without thinking, and his hands instantly tighten at my waist.
