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“How come you don’t walk as wobbly in these things on the rubber mats?” I grumble.
He chuckles and steps on the ice, twisting to me and taking both my hands when I try to reach for the boards. My chest is pounding as he pulls me along with him, heading toward the center of the rink. My eyes are glued to our feet and my heart is thundering against my chest.
I don’t think it’s because I’m balancing on thin blades or afraid of falling again. I’m pretty sure it’s the way he’s focused on me. It’s the way his warm hands wrap around my icy fingers.
I swallow.
“Keep your head up and your eyes on me.”
Tall order.
But I don’t cower. I lift my chin and look into those piercing eyes. They flash as if he’s saying, Good girl.
And I almost…wish he did.
My body heats. My mind swirls. And don’t even get me started on what’s happening in my core right now with the way he’s looking back at me.
Oh my gosh. Can he read my mind? Am I readable?
My knees weaken, and I wobble, gasping and gripping his hands. Effortlessly—as if he expected it—he captures me. “Always keep your head up. Even if you fall.”
“How’s that possible?”
He doesn’t answer. His eyes dip to my lips, and for a moment, it feels like he’s lost in them.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper, silently noticing our bodies are almost flush. So close, I can feel the heat of his body.
“Relax. No one’s asking you to do any triples here. You’re just sweeping and acting like you’re having a good time out there.”
“Cheering on my man, right?”
His lips part before he answers, and a tiny thrill jolts through me to have caught him off guard. “Right.”
Before yesterday, when Lonnie dragged me onto the ice headfirst, it had been almost nine years since I’d laced up my old skates with my cheerleader besties. None of us were pros. We just had a good time.
I stop gingerly as he lets go of my hands to check my balance. He skates a few feet from me, watching me expectantly.
My bones still ache from last night—and I don’t need more judgment.
“Come to me.”
I clench and bite the inside of my cheek as I do, my eyes flicking away.
“What’s the matter, Woods?”
“I don’t need to give you more reasons to laugh at me.”
He smirks. “I’m laughin’ at you now.”
I huff. “Well, cover your eyes or somethin’.”
He cocks his head, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. “Not a bad idea.”
Skating up to me, he holds up a black and white handkerchief. “For you though—not me.”
“Why do you have one of those?”
Why is that the first thing I say instead of ‘Are you out of your mind’?
