Page 71 of All Our Almosts

“Fuuuck,” he laughs out through the pain.

“Oh my god.” I’m laughing too, forehead collapsed onto his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes and letting his head rest back on the ice. “Ow. But yeah.”

“Okay good, because Andy?”

“Yeah?” He peeks an eye open.

“That was the worst bunny hop I’ve ever seen.” I pinch his cheek in a tease, then start to push up to stand.

“Not yet.” Andy wraps his arms tighter around my waist, trapping me there. “I’m not ready to face the public.”

“Okay,” I laugh, “but I think I’m flashing everyone in this dress.”

“Fine.” He takes one more long breath before loosening his hold. I help him to his feet as a biting gust of wind slices past us.

“Alright hot shot, I think we’re done for the day.” I adjust his jacket and give him a consoling pat on the chest.

“Why do I feel like this wasn’t the way to impress you on our first date?”

“I hate to break it to you, Walsh, but the time for impressions has come and gone. My image of you is set in stone.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, following me out of the rink onto safe ground. “And what image is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

“Well, I guess you should’ve won the bet and made that your prize. Here, sit down.”

I lead us to a bench by the side boards where we can take off our skates. There’s a tree above us, sparkling with bright white string lights, the snow glistening in reflection.

“You know,” Andy says, struggling with his laces, “despite the evidence, I still can’t imagine you actually going out onto a frozen pond to skate.”

“Why not?” I pull off my first skate and reach for the second.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to believe you did stuff before you met me.”

I give him a look that I hope conveys extreme incredulity.

“Okay, that sounded bad.”

I laugh. “Ya think?”

“I—I meant—” He stutters, nervous now, and I feel bad for giving him a hard time. “I guess I forget there was ever a time before we knew each other. It feels like we’ve always been on the same path, even though we haven’t.”

And that was actually really sweet. Sweeter than I know what to do with. So I shoot him a wink as I say, “I promise to never stop surprising you.”

I meant it to be teasing, but it comes out sincere. His eyes catch mine, and suddenly my palms are sweaty. I reach down to pull off my second skate, but my hand slips and I elbow him in the side. “Ope, sorry.”

He laughs. “That’s okay.”

I feel like I’m a teenager again, fumbling and hopeful and trying ridiculously hard.

“I think I know what you mean though,” I offer. “Sometimes when it’s just the two of us it feels like we’re the same person, but then we go out in the world and I’m reminded how different we are.”

“Like at karaoke.”