Page 17

“Are we too old to have fun? No. Now, come on.”

“Why the hell not?”

With a shrug, I breeze past him into what is aptly named The Skate Barn, a roller rink.

The first thing I notice is the smell— old . It’s not entirely unpleasant, but it smells dated for sure. The second is the décor. There are old concert posters, flyers, and tickets stapled to the walls. It’s cluttered, but in an artsy sort of way.

To my surprise, the place isn’t completely dead. There are about ten people out on the floor flying around the rink, and a few stragglers in the middle moving more slowly. There’s soft music playing through the speakers and a couple kids running amuck in the small game room.

“This place is…”

“Awesome!” Dean claps his hands together. “Oh, man. I haven’t been in one of these in forever . I’ve seen it on my drive over the past year I’ve lived here but haven’t had the chance to come check it out yet.”

“I’ve never been in either. I don’t think I’ve even set foot in one of these since I was like five.”

“Really? We had one in my hometown. Throughout middle school, it was always packed on a Friday night. The hottest place to go, that’s for sure.”

“I take it you’re a great skater, then?”

He shrugs. “I can manage. You?”

It’s going to be embarrassing as hell and I am not looking forward to it. “I’ll manage too.”

“Good. Let’s go grab some skates.”

Dean places his hand on the small of my back, and my skin hums just like it did the other night when he made the same move.

It’s silly. It’s not like I haven’t had guys do it to me before.

But Dean’s touch…it’s different.

Firm, yet gentle. Like he’s touching me because he wants to keep me safe and close and because he can’t help himself.

I like it.

Dean requests skates in our sizes, then we make our way over to an empty bench and swap our shoes for the four-wheeled style.

He’s laced up first, while I struggle.

“Need help?” he asks, towering above me with his hands on his hips.

I glower up at him, shoving my hair out of my face. “I’m not a child. I can tie my own skates.”

“Are you sure? Because at this rate, we’ll be here all day.”

“You can go out without me.”

He gives me a look that says he believes otherwise.

Then, he drops to his knees, and I hold still as he curls his hand around my calf.

If I thought having his hand on my lower back was making my skin vibrate before, I was wrong.

This? It’s next level.

It’s not like this is the first time Dean’s touched me. He had me plastered against him in the diner just two nights ago, but I was too focused on food to pay attention to what it felt like to be in his arms.

If the way it feels to have his hand on my leg is any indication, I missed out big-time.

Slowly, like he can feel the difference too, he drags his hand down my calf, lifting my leg until my skate is resting against his giant thigh. His fingers move swiftly as he gets my laces straightened out.

“You should tie your hair up so it’s not flying around in your face out there.”

“I thought you liked my hair down?”

He peeks up at me, brow lifted. “Since when do you care about what I like?”

I don’t answer him.

Instead, I do what he tells me, wrapping my long hair into a bun and securing it messily on top of my head.

He sets my now laced feet back on the floor, then hops onto his with ease, like he was born wearing a pair of skates or something.

He reaches his hand out to me. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

I let him pull me up. I truly haven’t been on skates in a long time, probably since I was about eight or so.

That time, Maya and I both decided it would be fun to try to climb the pine tree near our house in them…

then proceeded to fall and scare the living shit out of our parents and ourselves.

We threw our skates in the Dumpster the very next morning.

“Come on.” He starts to lead us toward the floor. “I know you said it’s been a long time since you’ve been on these, so when we get out there, I can help guide you if you need it. I’ll?—”

He jerks to a stop and I run right into him.

Those comedians who do the exaggerated fall with their arms flailing and their feet swishing back and forth like they can’t find traction until they smack into the ground?

Yeah, that’s me right now.

My legs fly out from under me and I land straight on my ass.

Dean topples over right along with me.

“Shit!” he shouts as he goes down.

The air is driven from my lungs as he lands on top of me, all ten billion pounds of muscles pressing against me.

He scrambles up, pushing himself off me until he’s hovering like he’s about to do a push-up or some shit. “Shit! Crap! Shit! Are you okay?”

I groan, and he peers down with concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes?”

It’s a question because quite frankly, everything hurts.

He leans in so close I can see at least three different shades of green in his eyes.

“Please tell me you didn’t hit your head.”

“I didn’t.” He exhales, relieved. “But I’m pretty sure my tailbone is nonexistent at this point.”

He laughs, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to mine. “I can work with a broken butt, but not a concussion.”

I stop breathing again.

I stop moving.

I’m pretty sure time stops too, because I couldn’t tell you how long goes by as we lie here, Dean on top of me and me trying not to breathe, like I’m a corpse in a TV show and the camera is zoomed in on my face.

He sinks lower. I swear I can feel his lips ghosting against mine.

And I swear I want to feel more.

“River?”

“Yeah?”

He swallows. Once. Twice.

“I…uh…I?—”

“Well, this is an interesting turn of events.”

We whip our heads toward the voice coming from above.

“Hey, Lucy,” Dean drawls out casually.

Our building manager stands over us, her bright purple-painted lips stretching from ear to ear, hands on her hips.

Dean rolls off me, sitting beside me, drawing his knees up. I push up to sitting, my tailbone seriously aching with the movements.

“How are you?”

Lucy tucks her lips together at Dean’s ridiculous attempt to act like she didn’t just catch us almost kissing.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Dean Evans just almost kissed me!

And I almost let him.

“What are you kids doing here?” she asks.

“Skating.”

“On the floor? Horizontally?”

Dean’s face turns as deep red as my hair.

Lucy laughs. “I’m only teasing, but I am glad to see it’s finally happened. I always knew you two would get together.”

What is it with people saying that?

Furrowing my brow, I glance at Dean, and he appears to be just as confused as I am.

He clears his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Just getting some practice in.”

“Practice?”

Lucy nods. “Roller derby.”

His brows shoot into his hairline. “ You play roller derby?”

“Used to. I was a badass, too. Lawless is what they called me, because I was awful about following the rules.” She shrugs. “Now, I ref. I get to bust the balls now.”

I’m sure the Lawless nickname also had a lot to do with the fact that she resembles Xena with her long black hair and blunt bangs.

“That’s still pretty badass, especially for…” His words trail off, eyes growing wide as he realizes what he was about to say and how he’s completely helpless to talk himself out of it.

I might be enjoying watching him squirm under Lucy’s scrutiny just a bit too much.

“Someone my age?” she provides for him, tilting her head. “Just how old do you think I am, Dean?”

He swallows loudly. “I just meant…uh…I meant…”

She chuckles. “I’m only kidding. I’m aware I’m no spring chicken. Doesn’t mean I can’t have fun, right?”

She winks, and I wonder if she somehow overheard our earlier conversation outside because it sounds almost exactly like what Dean said to me.

“Right,” he agrees quietly.

I’ve seen Dean be a lot of things before, but never embarrassed like he is now, staring straight down at his lap and not making eye contact with our building manager.

Lucy gives me another wink and gestures toward the rink. “See you kids out there, yeah?”

She skates off like she was born on wheels, but neither of us make a move to follow her.

“She’s totally going to jack my rent up after that comment,” Dean says, staring after her.

“Nah, Lucy is way too nice. Proof: you’re still living in the building when you’re clearly being reported consistently. That reminds me…why do you think I’m the one reporting you?”

“Because you live next door and I probably annoy you the most.”

“That is likely one hundred percent accurate, but alas, it’s truly not me.”

“Why not?”

I peek over at him, and he’s watching me with intense eyes. “I’m not sure.”

I’ve wanted to report Dean for the last several months, but every time I pick up my laptop to log into the system and file a complaint, I never submit the form. I’ve written up at least ten over the last year. All of them end up in the trash.

I don’t know what stops me.

“Is it that soft spot you’re developing for me?”

Soft spot? For him? He wishes. There’s no way I have anything that resembles a soft spot for him. He’s the most obnoxious man on the planet. If aliens invaded Earth and we had to send a sacrifice with them to save humankind, I’d personally escort Dean onto their ship.

Then why haven’t you reported him? And the better question…why were you going to let him kiss you?

“Trust me, there’s no soft spot.”

“Right.” He chuckles, shaking his head. He pushes up to his feet with ease, then extends a hand my way. “Come on. Let’s go see how bad we suck at this.”