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Well, empty if you didn’t count the lone figure skater over on his side, working on jumps with a harness and a coach who did more barking than encouraging. I recognized Kenji Kelly immediately, not because hockey and figure skating cross, but because he looked a lot like my favorite figure skater, Olympian Nathan Chen. Of course, Kenji was the same age as me and Jonah, and only in-training, rather than on the circuit. We’d also connected at a skating club when I was about ten or so—at the height of my dad being an asshole—and he’d been kind to me. We followed each other on Instagram, and we’d exchanged DMs a few times. I waved at him, and he acknowledged me with a quick nod as he started a complicated sequence of movements. I skated closer to Jonah and leaned on the barrier, resting my hand on his, then unpeeling his fingers and lacing them with mine.
“I’m not scared,” he lied.
I pushed my skate a little, so it nudged his, then I reached up and kissed him, cradled his face with my free hand and actually devoured his mouth in the middle of a skating rink. Or the edge, at least.
He relaxed against me, and I softly tugged him from the barrier, taking his weight into balance, and pushing off backward, him coming with me, chasing for a kiss. Before he realized he’d let go of the side, I had him in the middle of our small part, and then, he froze and gaped at me.
“And how do you think I’m going to get back?” he asked, tension in every line of him. He wobbled, which I countered, and then, he wobbled in the other direction, and I shifted to balance him out again.
“I’ll help you. Hold my hands.” He slid his free hand from my arm, down to hold on for dear life. “Push forward,” I instructed, as I began to skate backward, and he glided with me.
I wasn’t going fast, but to listen to him grumping, you’d think I was trying to set land speed records. After a while, he stopped warning me he was going to hurt me and seemed to settle into the gentle circles. Every time we completed a small loop, I kissed him, and we slid, quite literally, into a sweet routine of skate and kiss, and by the tenth time, he was smiling and tried letting go of one hand. The disconnect didn’t last long, but he whooped and hollered like he was winning gold. We’d stopped for a drink—bottles of water in my bag—and I glanced at the clock, seeing we had a couple of minutes left.
“One last go-around?” I asked.
He kissed the question right out of me. “On my own?” he asked, or rather told me, as he pushed away from the boards.
Only he pushed too hard, he wasn’t fully upright, his center of balance was off, and he was so fast that when he fell over, he slid right under the small barrier and into the figure skaters’ side of the rink. I couldn’t get there in time, landing at his side in a few seconds, but Kenji had reached him first, stopping him from sliding any further, and offering him a hand up. Between us, we got him standing, and despite the pinwheeling, he was finally up and steady.
“Sorry,” I apologized to Kenji, who smiled at me as if nothing fazed him.
“It’s all good,” he murmured, then brushed off Jonah’s jeans, which had shavings of ice on the butt. I wasn’t so sure I wanted the cute-as-fuck Kenji anywhere near my boyfriend’s butt, but what could I say. “First time?” he asked Jonah, who returned his smile.
“Is it that obvious?”
Was Jonah flirting with Kenji? I grasped Jonah’s hand and kissed him right there and then, because there was no way I was losing the best thing ever to a cute and sexy figure skater, no matter how many jumps he could do.
“Kenji!” his coach yelled.
Kenji’s smile dropped, and I swear his shoulders tensed, which surely wasn’t a good look for someone who was aiming for fluid on the ice.
“Work calls,” he said, and skated, swirled, and jumped away from us, Jonah staring after him.
“He’s cute, right?” I asked Jonah when we reached the side.
“You think he’s cute?” Jonah asked with a frown, and I thought I heard a hint of jealousy in his tone. I wanted to punch the air—Jonah wasn’t interested in Kenji; he was interested inme.
“Well yes,” I began, and he narrowed his eyes at me, “but not in a boyfriend-I-want-to-kiss-as-badly-as-I-want-to-kiss-you kind of way.”
He gave me an upnod. “Same.”
One more kiss just to seal that deal, and then, we were off the ice, back in street shoes, and heading for pizza.
“How was that for a first date?” I asked him over a slice of pepperoni.
He reached for my hand. “Terrifying, thrilling, and perfect, but it’s my turn next and we’re going to see a movie sitting down in safety. Agreed?”
I’d go anywhere he wanted. Do anything he wanted.
Like was rapidly turning to love.
ChapterFifteen
Jonah
I tried.I really did. But getting the girls to sit still for me to finish their hair was impossible. Lana said she was old enough to do her braids by herself—I had serious doubts, but whatever—while Gemma demanded that I use just red and green barrettes. There were only three because the others had disappeared into a black hole in space or were under the fridge, which was the same thing—and Polly was too tired and cranky to let me try to tame her curls.
“Mom, I did my best,” I said as I paraded the trio of girls into the kitchen where my parents were frantically getting food ready for the Christmas Eve party. Dad glanced over the shoulder of his white dress shirt—Mom had insisted everyone dress up because Soren and his fathers were coming, like Tennant and Jared were royalty of some sort—and his eyes went wide.
