Page 261 of Burn Bright

Ankles, ouch.

“Now we’re calling it.” He catches my hand, but I pull back. “Harriet?”

I eye the exit with too much glee. “I might not be made for this, but you are. You skate some more. I’ll go grab a hot chocolate.”

He’s uncertain. “You sure?”

“Not to be a creepy stalker fan, but I wouldn’t mind watching you fly like a bird.”

His smile explodes into a laugh. “Not to be a creepy stalker fan, but I wouldn’t mind watching you sip a hot chocolate.”

“Oh, I’ll be pounding a hot chocolate, Cobalt boy, and you can watch me from the ice.”

“Deal.” He seals this with a tender kiss, bending a lot lower to reach my lips, and I’m grateful when he helps me back to the exit.

Once my skates are removed, my anklesveryred, and my boots firmly back on, I buy a hot chocolate and an apple cider. I nestle near an open spot at the railing overlooking the rink.

Then I see him on the ice.

My breath leaves my lungs.

Ben really isflying. It’s not his speed that has me awed. He’s skating fast but respectfully for a semi-crowded rink. It’showhe’s skating. Lithe, graceful movements as if you can’t tell where his body ends and the ice begins. It looks like he was born here. Like his soul finds comfort here.

It registers so powerfully that this is the very first time I’ve ever seen him skate.

My throat swells watching him. I’d like to think that’s how I look when I play the drums. When I talk about medicine. Totally and completely enraptured.

Music and medicine—that decision has become a terrorizing stressor.

I’mnineteen, and I need to make the biggest choice of my life. I’m terrified of my future being mired in regret. Of wishing I took the other path I left behind. I’ve been starting to look forsigns to give me a hint at the right one. Even thesmallestof signs. Heard Green Day on the radio yesterday—I should choose music. Last night, Ben asked me for a Band-Aid after he cut his thumb on a can of garbanzo beans—I should choose medicine.

It’s silly to think the universe will point me in the right direction. But I am holding out hope for divine intervention because at this point, I havezeroclue which one I’ll choose.

I’m fifty-fifty.

My heart lies with both. How do I even begin to pick?

Luckily, I still have time…I think. Tom hasn’t exactly hung a deadline over my head, but whenever I run into him, he asks me if I’m nearing a decision. I do need to pick classes for next semester, so my goal is to decide by Christmas. It gives me a few more weeks at least.

I avoid the stress by watching Ben. Seeing him skate floats my anxieties into the ether, and I’m doubly impressed when he zips over to me and slices against the ice in a quick stop.

I fight a pinched smile. “Show off.”

“I have to flex somewhere,” he grins. “This is the only thing I excel at.”

“That’s so far from true.” I gulp my hot chocolate, then he glances at the extra cup in my hand. So I tell him, “Apple cider. No honey.”

His smile reaches his baby blue eyes. “Let me get my skates off. We can find a place to sit.” I’m soaking in the hours I get to spend with Ben before he heads to Philly later tonight.

It’s Wednesday.

The day of fucking mystery. I’m not invited to the Cobalt family dinner, and I don’t expect to be, nor do I want an invite. I respect their family traditions, and I sure as hell wouldn’t bring a new relationship to a sacred fam event.

Ben also needs that time alone with them. He’s tried pushing them away in an effort to protect them from himself. It’s goodhe has these opportunities to figure out how to manage his OCD when he’s solely around family.

We find a vacant bench in view of the ornament and garland-strung tree. Mariah Carey belts out Christmas staples through speakers somewhere. Really, the holidays have never been my favorite time of year. They’re typically solitary affairs between me and my TV. I’d even work extra shifts at Wendy’s. Stay busy. Earn some cash. So “holiday cheer” is taking on an entirely new meaning being with Ben.

Little kids giggle as they put on skates, and I catch Ben smiling as the boy practically drags his dad toward the rink with excitement.