Page 27 of Make Me Mean It

I lift my head, his face right there.

Close enough that the green of his eyes breaks apart into colours I’ve never noticed before, flecks of gold cutting through the darker green beneath the harsh rink lights.

My eyes flick between his, Theo’s brow lifting.

“Thought you said you could skate?”

I clear my throat, loosening my grip on his shoulder, heat creeping beneath my collar when I realise quite how hard I’ve been holding onto him.

“It’s been a while.”

Theo’s hand stays against my waist even after I let go, his grip easing until his palm is simply resting there, keeping me steady while I concentrate on getting my feet back where they’re supposed to be.

I know how to do this. My body just needs to remember.

His thumb shifts against my side, barely more than a small sweep against my t-shirt, but whatever comes after knees bent disappears somewhere beneath the pressing awareness of his palm still resting against my waist.

I stare harder at the ice.

Weight centred.

That was it.