“These skates are terrible but I can work with terrible skates.” He’s picking up speed now. “Want to see something cool?”
“Rodriguez—”
He takes off, cutting across the rink. Does a tight turn at the far end then comes racing back.
He hockey stops right in front of me, so close that ice chips spray up.
“Show-off,” I say.
“You love it.” He’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed. “Okay. Your turn. Show me something.”
“On these skates? Absolutely not.”
“Come on. Just a little jump. Something easy.”
“Rodriguez—”
“Please?” He’s got his puppy dog eye out now. “For me? Because it’s Valentine’s Day and I want to see you do something beautiful?”
I glance around. The rink is crowded but there’s a clear patch. The ice is terrible. The skates are worse.
But he’s looking at me like that. Like I’m capable of magic.
“Fine. But just something small. These skates are death traps.”
I skate to the clear patch. Check my surroundings. Find my balance.
And I do a simple waltz jump. Nothing complicated. Just a small rotation.
When I land—barely, the dull blades almost catching—Rodriguez is staring at me like I just landed a quad.
“That was—” He skates closer, fast. “You just?—”
“It was nothing. Basic stuff.”
“That wasn’t nothing.” He’s in front of me now, hands on my waist. “That was perfect.”
“It was barely a rotation?—”
“JuJu. You just flew. On rental skates that are older than we are. On ice that’s basically gravel.” His eyes are bright. “That was incredible.”
“Flattery will get you no where.”
He pulls me closer. “Again. Do it again.”
“Absolutely not. I’m lucky I landed that one.”
“Fine. Then I’ll do one.”
I blink. “What?”
“A jump. I’ll do a jump.” He’s already skating backward. “Watch this.”
“Rodriguez, you can’t?—”
He takes off. Building speed. And then he actually attempts a jump. A full rotation. In rental skates.
He gets maybe halfway around before completely bailing, landing hard on his hip, sliding across the ice.
