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No one ever told me it was okay to fall.

As I sit on the bench and remove my skates, I glance back at the ice. The kids are still laughing. Still falling. Still getting up.

And for a second, I let myself think maybe this city’s doing something to me.

I like it here.

Too much, maybe.

My contract is one year. No guarantees.

But I’m starting to hope I get to stay.

That thought sticks with me as I head out of the rink, shove my hands into my pockets, and start the walk back toward home.

It's close to 9:00pm and cold and dark outside. As I round the corner near my building, I spot someone walking alone, head down, with her backpack slung low.

Mandy.

I cross the street without thinking. “Does the library kick you out when you start looking too stressed?” I call out.

Mandy startles, then grins when she sees me. “Only when I threaten to set fire to my flashcards. You know, normal Tuesday behavior.”

I fall into step beside her. She’s bundled up in a coat that still doesn’t look warm enough, her cheeks pink from the cold. “You walk back this late often?”

“Only when I lose track of time. The bar exam doesn’t care about personal safety.”

“You should text me next time. I’ll walk you,” I say without thinking.

She gives me a look. “So now you’re my bodyguard?”

I sneer. “Only if the job comes with a badge and the authority to arrest guys who look at you too long.”

Her laugh is low, a little tired, but real. “And Kira would absolutely turn it into a full-blown rom-com. She’d have popcorn, a fake Oscar ballot, and color commentary about your ‘sultry scowl.’”

We reach the block leading to our building. The air between us tightens with each step. It’s quiet, but not uncomfortable. She breaks the silence.

“I think my brain is going to liquefy. The reading. The practice tests. And every time I finally hit a groove, Kira starts blasting EDM or on the phone with her latest online match.”

“You know…” I glance sideways. “I have a spare room. It’s quiet. Has a desk. Decent lighting. You could study there if you need to.”

She blinks. “What?”

“I’m gone half the time. And even when I’m here, I’m not throwing house parties. You need a quiet place, and I’ve got one.”

She smiles, and it hits me right in the sternum.

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s say I’m interested. What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just rules.”

“Rules?”

“One: no inviting Kira. Two: no judgment if I heat up frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Three…” I pause, lowering my voice. “Don’t rearrange my furniture. I’ll notice.”

She grins. “Did you practice that?”

“Just making sure we’re aligned.”