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Chapter Thirty-Nine
Avery
The ice rinksprawls before us, a glistening expanse under the starlit sky. Victor strides ahead, his breath forming puffs of white in the cold night air. My stomach knots up, and I force myself to follow, my feet heavy in my boots.
"Looks great, doesn't it?" Victor's voice cuts through the winter silence, thick with anticipation.
"Uh-huh," is all I can muster, the memory of the last time we went skating playing on a loop in my mind—the laughter, the fall, and that unexpected, heart-stopping kiss we've both pretended never happened.
We reach the bench, and I sit down with a shaky exhale. Victor grabs us skates from the rental booth nearby and hands them to me. I'm just as unpracticedthe second time around, fumbling with the laces. From the corner of my eye, I watch Victor, all easy grace and confidence as he bends over his own skates. His fingers deftly work the laces, no hint of hesitation.
"Need help with those?" His question pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up into those piercing blue eyes.
"No, I got it." The words are more defensive than I intend, a reflex from years of doing everything on my own.
"Okay." He stands, rolling his shoulders back, a casual shrug as if to say no offense taken.
I finish with my laces and stand, my legs feeling like they belong to someone else. Taking a deep breath, I try to find some semblance of the courage Victor seems to carry in spades.
"Ready?" he asks, his hand extended toward me.
"I guess," I reply, my voice steadier than I feel, and I place my hand in his. Victor's hand feels solid and warm, a contrast to the biting chill of the air. My grip is probably too tight, but he doesn't complain. Instead, he pulls me gently toward the ice, his confidence reassuring in a way that makes my heart do somersaults.
"Okay, slow and steady," he says as we step onto the slick surface.
"Easy for you to say," I mutter under my breath, but I trust him enough to follow his lead.
My first attempt is a disaster. My feet slide out from under me more than once, and I can feel my cheeks burnwith a mixture of cold and embarrassment. But eventually, I loosen up enough to have fun. Victor's laughter mingles with mine, a sound that's becoming more familiar—and treasured—than I ever expected.
"You're doing great, Avery. Just keep your eyes on me."
I do as he says, focusing on the dark locks of his hair, the broad set of his shoulders leading the way, and those eyes that are somehow icier than the surface beneath us. It's mesmerizing how effortlessly he moves, like each glide is just an extension of his will.
"Look at you, not even holding on for dear life anymore," Victor teases after a while, and I realize he's right. The death grip I had on his hand has eased into something gentler. His fingers are still encased around mine, strong and sure, but there's a new ease between us.
"Guess I'm a quick learner," I reply, my voice steadier than my skating.
"Or maybe you've got a good teacher." He winks, and the look is so disarming that I almost miss a step.
"Careful," he chuckles, "can't have you falling for me—literally or figuratively."
The way he smiles at me has me heating up to the point where my winter coat feels too warm and I just hope my cheeks aren't betraying what I'm feeling right now.
I start to feel a rhythm in my glide that's almost natural. My skates carve tentative paths, but withVictor's hand in mine, I'm starting to think I can do this. Confidence bubbles inside me.
"See? You're getting the hang of it," Victor says, his voice both a challenge and a comfort as we circle the rink.
"Maybe I am." A grin spreads across my face, and for a moment, I let go of all my worries. Everything fades away, leaving just the cold air and the thrill of the ice.
I push forward, trying a little glide on my own, and that's when it happens. My skate catches on something, maybe a groove or just my own clumsy timing, and suddenly I'm lurching forward. My hands flail, grasping at nothing, and I'm about to collide with a figure gliding past—a blur of grace and speed that I'm nowhere near matching.
"Whoa, Avery!" Victor's voice is close, filled with concern.
Then he's there, his arms around me, pulling me back from disaster. The world spins for a second, disorienting, before I realize I'm pressed against him, his chest firm and reassuring. I blink up at him, my breath forming clouds between us.
"Gotcha," he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Thanks," I manage, my voice shaky. I'm not sure if it's from the near fall or his sudden proximity. His eyes are a clear blue, even in the evening light, and they hold mine with an intensity that sends another kind of shiverthrough me. My heart pounds as I realize this is exactly what caused our kiss the last time.