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“I like you too.”
“You’re… different.”
“I prefer quirky,” I say.
“It’s a compliment.”
“Even so.” I fold my hands in my lap. This is… We’re… God, I don’t know. I want to push him. To ask him to open up. But only if there’s a chance he’s sticking around.
But he can’t stick around. It’s a logical impossibility. So there’s really no reason to think about it happening.
Unfortunately, that impeccable reasoning does nothing to convince my heart to quiet.
It thuds like a war drum. Need Wes. Need Wes. Need Wes.
“I like that you’re quirky.” His lips curl into a half-smile. “And that you give me shit.”
I don’t, usually, but no reason to argue with a compliment. “I have an idea.”
“Oh?” His voice drops back to that seductive tone. He catches himself. Shakes his head. “Sorry. Habit.”
“You’re kinda a player.”
He holds up his thumb and forefinger a little.
“I… I need you to be honest with me.”
“I am.”
“So, um… I have an idea for what we could do. But later. First—”
“I have an idea too.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll have to take your clothes off.”
I shoot him a get real look.
He laughs. “And put on others.” He gives me a long, slow once-over. “Not sure you’ll want to wear that.”
“You’re pushing your luck.”
“Good thing I’m handsome.”
“It really is.”
“Oh my God.” I reach for something steady. Find only air. This is… I…
My legs wobble.
My feet splay.
I’m a v.
My feet refuse to straighten.
They keep sliding outward.
Until—
My inner thighs tug. That’s too much stretch. That’s—
“I got you.” Wes laughs as he wraps his arm around me.
I try to pull my feet back together, but it’s not happening.
“One at a time, angel.”
Right. One at a time. “How are you so still?”
God, this place is weird. Like it’s stuck in time. Lacquered hardwood floor. White walls. Blinking neon lights.
Older patrons in roller skates and leg warmers.
Teenagers in rollerblades.
A couple doing a partner’s routine in the center of the rink.
Spinning.
God, they’re moving so much and I—
I lean my back against his chest. Reach for the railing. Find air. Again.
In the last hour, our positions have switched.
I’m shaky.
He’s steady.
But, God, it feels good leaning on him.
I mean, it’s literal at the moment.
But there’s this promise of more.
Of really leaning on him.
And letting him lean on me.
It’s different. Thrilling. Good.
Oh God.
My right leg—”shit.”
He hooks his arm under mine.
I lift my right foot and place it directly below my body.
Then I do the same with my left.
A kid on speed skates whizzes past us. Shoots me a flirty wink.
He’s about fourteen. But points for confidence.
Wes laughs. “Bet he wishes you were his babysitter.”
“Isn’t he a little old?”
“Tutor.” He shifts backward. “You want to try again?”
“No.” I want his body pressed against mine. I feel steady with his arms around me. Without them—
This is impossible.
The movement pattern.
And the whole not getting attached thing.
“Try anyway.” He releases me, chest first, then hips, then hands.
I’m on my own.
I have to skate on my own.
I lift my left leg.
Move it forward.
Attempt to glide as I place it on the slick surface.
It works. Ish.
The next is a little better.
I’m walking more than I’m rollerblading.
But I’m not falling.
Wes does a circle around me. He smiles as his eyes meet mine. “Fuck, if you were my tutor…”
“Yeah?”
“I’d have to fuck myself before our sessions every week.”
Jesus.
My knees knock.
I go down.
Hard.
Land right on my ass.
Ow.
It’s softer than concrete, but it’s not exactly cushy.
“Shit. Sorry.” Wes drops to his knees.
I look up at him. “You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s cruel.”
“Testing your balance?”
I flip him off.
He grabs my hand and brings my finger to his mouth. His lips close around my finger.
He sucks on my skin.
Softly.
Then harder.
Then it’s the scrape of his teeth.
Thank God I’m already on the ground.
My balance is gone.
He’s so…
I’m so…
Totally and completely fucked.
God, he has a nice smile.
And those eyes.
They’re so gorgeous.
He offers me his hand.
My stomach flutters as I take it.
Something is different.
Everything is different.
I just…
Really like him.
But uh… “How do I get up?”
“Don’t think about it.”
I shoot him that you’re ridiculous look.
He nods. “You trust me?”
“Maybe.”
“You got someone else here who will teach you how to rollerblade?”
I scan the rink until I see the teenage boy who winked at me. Motion to him.
Wes laughs. “Fuck, he’s better than I am too.”
“Exactly.”
“But my lesson ends with something a lot more fun.”
“Oh?”
His expression gets wicked.
Oh.
So much for getting up.
I’m just…
Sitting is good.
Maybe forever.
Or at least until the rink closes.
Or my heartbeat slows.
“On three,” Wes says.
I shake my head.
He nods. “One, two, three—” He takes my hands and pulls me up.
I climb onto my knees. Then my right foot. Left. Okay, I have it. Sorta.
“Perfect.” He slides his arm around my waist. Holds me close. To steady me. Or maybe just because he wants me close.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Wes flirts.
He can’t help himself.
It’s fun, yes, but it’s not about me.
It’s just Wes.
His eyes shift to me. “Fuck, I ever tell you how much I like your glasses?”
