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“Next date?”
He flashes me a grin.
I chew my lip. Should I give up trying now rather than inevitably land on my backside in front of everybody? Bryn already knows my co-ordination is crap.
“Why did you suggest this?” I ask as I gingerly move along, hanging onto an edge still.
“The same way I usually decide what to do: first thing that came into my head.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. So, could've been worse. Plus, I think I saw a movie once where the guy took the chick ice skating. I thought it must be romantic.”
I stop. “Romantic?”
Bryn bumps into me, steadying himself with a hand on my shoulder. “Don't you like romantic guys?”
“No, it's just I didn't think–”
“Oh. Friend-zoned.” His eyes glint in amusement. “Is that what you’ve come to tell me? One more date and we’re over? I really need to work on that kissing thing; it always puts you off.”
At this point, my words have floated across the ice somewhere because I can’t respond. What is he expecting me to say?
“All good,” he says. “I told you I’m probably not a good idea right now.”
My lack of vocabulary gives him the wrong answer and I want to smack myself. Hard. “Right.”
“But we can have fun?”
“Here? I expect so, but if I break my leg, I'll bloody kill you!”
“And if I break my arm, Steve will bloody kill me. One handed drumming on tour isn't going to work.”
We continue to teeter across the ice as confident skaters whisk past us, ice spraying in their wake. Surprisingly, I'm not as wobbly as I expected and I experiment with a few wider strokes.
Without realising, we've branched out, further across the ice as we skate slowly side by side. The cool air smarts my face, my long coat and matching gloves a sensible idea for the evening. Bryn's hands are bare but he's wrapped himself in a grey scarf and leather jacket. Of course, leather, the rock star is never far away.
“Too slow! The kids are overtaking us!” exclaims Bryn, as a couple of young boys pass at a speed I don't intend to try anytime soon, laughing at us.
Bryn grabs my gloved hand and skates away. I'm dragged behind, attempting to match his pace as he pulls us toward the path leading to the trees. I try to tug my hand away but he grips tighter.
“Bryn!”
“Keep going! You're less likely to fall then!”
We round the corner, along the narrow pathway beneath the white lights in the trees. My panic turns to a weird sense of enjoyment as he slows and keeps his hand in mine, matching my speed. Other couples skate by and I smile a little too smugly to myself when I compare my date with theirs.
Bad, Avery.
“Are you sure you haven't skated for ten years?” I ask.
“Yeah. I guess I'm a natural.” He winks.
“You've done this more recently than ten years ago!”
“Might've done…”
“That's not fair!” I attempt to drag my hand away in disgust but he keeps hold. “I'm surprised I haven't landed on my backside yet.”
