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“Maybe we should hold off. We don’t want to crowd them. She looks so nervous.”
I felt for her, coming from her quiet British lifestyle into the crazy of Los Angeles, not to mention that her boyfriend was a famous soccer player, and many of his friends had spent more than their share of time splashed all over the news. I’d be intimidated if I was in her shoes.
“Shall we skate?”
I nodded. “Yeah.” I gestured down to the floor where I’d dropped my evening’s footwear. “I brought my own because I’m cool that way.”
With a chuckle, Miguel nodded towards where he’d sat before I arrived. “Me too.”
A few minutes later our skates were on and a bunch of us joined the other skaters as they whizzed around, weaving in and out of the slower movers with ease. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d skated but the moment my wheels hit the floor I sped away from my friends, enjoying the fast pace, figures blurring when I passed. The sound of Journey singing Don’t Stop Believing added to my sense of freedom and I let everything else around me fade away.
Bliss. This was what Bryce meant when he told me to let go. I’d tried and tried, but in the real world there was always something pulling me back. I needed to do something different, to shuffle past a little more of my grief and guilt, and transporting myself back to an era I barely remember unlocked a small part of me that had been in chains since the day Will died. I actually laughed out loud as my feet carried me round and round, my hair flapping wildly behind me.
A night out, a change of scenery. I’d tried those things before, but maybe time was finally beginning to do its thing, allowing some of the hurt to be stripped away and revealing layers of me I hadn’t seen in a long time.
When the song ended I was still laughing as I slowed and rested against the barriers, facing those still skating. The world around me eased back into my consciousness, but I held onto the small piece of joy I’d found; held it tight in my mind and my heart. A camera flashed, and I blinked in surprise then grinned when I spotted Miguel in front of me.
“Sorry.” He slipped his camera back into his pocket, but smiled as he skated towards me. “That seemed like a moment that needed to be captured.”
He was right, and I threw my arms around him and kissed him on the cheek again. “Thank you. I don’t know what just happened but right now, I feel really good.”
Miguel’s hands pressed lightly into my back, sending warm tingles up my spine, and as I pulled back slightly, I noticed his breathing had become a little shallower, his eyes focused intently on mine. My own breathing sped up, my mouth suddenly dry, and I ran my tongue over my lower lip to moisten it so I could speak.
Almost as quickly as it had happened, it was over and Miguel said, “You wanna skate with me?”
There was a husky tone to his question, and all I could do was nod as he took my hand and we started skating again, slower this time.
Please, no.
It only takes a single second to plunge everything back into uncertainty again, and I felt my bubble of happy drifting away.
Warm tingly feeling with Miguel. Not okay. Not okay at all. This hadn’t happened before, not since the night we slept together when I’d welcomed those feelings, any feelings, and let him wrap me up in his affection and given him the same in return.
Well. Maybe it had happened since then. Once or twice when I let my guard down because feeling nothing was almost as unbearable as the pain. But just a moment ago, we could have… kissed. We could have made a tiny move and nothing would have been the same again. Not for me, not for Miguel, not for anyone.
“Freya.”
Staying upright on my skates meant keeping my focus straight ahead, and I was grateful because tears swam in my eyes. I didn’t want to look at him.
“Relax,” he said, his voice soft. “Please. Nothing happened, everything’s the same.”
I gave a single nod, willing myself to believe him, but if he believed it was true he wouldn’t have mentioned it. Wouldn’t have felt it.
“I need a break,” I told him.
We skated to the edge of the rink together but as soon as we stepped off, I left Miguel behind and skated towards the doors.
“Freya!”
It wasn’t Miguel’s voice but Bree’s, and I stopped and swivelled around to face her. Bree actually had dressed as Madonna; she wore a white wedding dress similar to the one from the Like A Virgin video and she looked stunning, as if this was something from her normal, everyday - or night - wardrobe.
“You’re
not leaving, are you?” she asked. “I wanna skate with you!”
She did that thing with her eyes that nobody could ever resist; sweetness radiated from them so I couldn’t say no.
I was still shaky from my moment with Miguel, but if anyone could take my mind off it, it was Bree so I agreed and we rolled back to the rink. Miguel must have gone to the bar because he was nowhere in sight and I tried to relax again.
