Page 10

The days after that evening on the rink felt different, as though the air between Amara and Liam held a quiet, fragile truce.

They'd shared something real that night, a rare glimpse into each other's guarded hearts.

It was a moment neither could quite forget, yet both felt the need to bury it, lest it awaken something they weren't ready to face.

Instead, they fell into an unspoken routine—crossing paths at the rink or around town, each encounter marked by a mix of tension and warmth, their words playful but their gazes lingering just a bit too long.

When they weren't together, they found themselves thinking of the other, wondering if the other was doing the same. Both tried to focus on their own worlds, yet they kept colliding, drawn together by some invisible thread neither could name.

One morning, Amara arrived at the rink early, determined to get in an extra hour of practice.

She had barely begun her warm-up when she noticed Liam standing at the edge of the rink, watching her with a half-smile.

His presence had become almost familiar by now, but she felt the familiar flutter in her chest all the same.

"You're up early," she called, trying to keep her tone light.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Couldn't let you have the whole rink to yourself, could I?"

She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. "I was hoping for some peace and quiet. You're not exactly known for blending into the background."

Liam chuckled, leaning against the boards. "Trust me, Amara, if I wanted to blend in, I wouldn't be here." There was something in his voice—an openness that hinted at more than he was saying. "I just... wanted to see you skate. You seem different out there, like nothing else matters."

Amara's cheeks warmed, and she forced herself to shrug. "Maybe that's why I love it. Skating's always been a world apart from everything else."

He nodded, a look of understanding in his eyes. "I get that."

She took a deep breath, glancing down at her skates, fighting the emotions that seemed to bubble up whenever they were alone.

She was torn between the comfort she felt around him and the guarded caution that came with getting too close.

She'd worked too hard to let someone disrupt her focus, to let herself feel vulnerable to someone who'd once seemed so far removed from her world.

"I know you have this... dream," Liam continued, his voice low but earnest, "and I know how much it means to you. But even champions need friends, Amara."

The honesty in his words took her by surprise. She'd kept people at arm's length for so long, fearing that letting anyone in would weaken her focus, make her too dependent. But with Liam, there was an ease, a naturalness she hadn't expected.

"Friends, huh?" She smiled, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't think anyone's ever accused me of being a good friend. Skating's always taken up so much of my life."

He returned her smile, a hint of warmth in his gaze. "Then I'd say it's about time you had one."

They fell into an easy silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Liam took a seat by the rink, watching her as she moved into her practice routine.

The music began, filling the empty space, and Amara let herself fall into the rhythm, the familiar comfort of movement soothing her nerves.

With each glide, she felt her body settle, her focus sharpening, but she was acutely aware of Liam's presence. She caught glimpses of him at the edge of the rink, his attention unwavering, and her heart raced despite herself.

She didn't want to feel this pull, this subtle yet undeniable attraction that seemed to hover between them. But each time she looked his way, her resolve weakened, her heart threatening to betray her guarded intentions.

After her practice, they met outside, the early morning sun casting a golden light over the quiet street. They walked side by side, their steps matching in rhythm, as if the connection they both tried to deny was a natural, unavoidable part of them.

"I have to admit," she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, "you're different from what I first thought."

"Different?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Should I be offended?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know. I guess I assumed... well, that you'd be like every other businessman—detached, only interested in success and profit."

He chuckled, his gaze softening. "I suppose I can understand that. But it's strange—you're the first person I've met in a long time who sees beyond the business, who doesn't just want something from me."

Amara looked away, feeling her cheeks warm again. "I guess we're both pretty good at keeping our walls up."

"That we are," he agreed, his voice quieter. "But maybe it wouldn't hurt to let them down... just a little."

The weight of his words lingered between them, a subtle invitation that neither could ignore.

But both knew that letting those walls down would mean facing the undeniable spark that flared whenever they were close.

It would mean acknowledging the possibility that their connection went beyond friendship, that it was something deeper, something neither had been ready for.

They reached the edge of the street, the moment stretching out, and Amara searched for words that could convey what she felt, but none seemed right. She took a breath, steadying herself.

"Liam... I don't know what this is, but I don't want it to ruin everything I've worked for. I can't afford distractions."

He nodded, a hint of understanding in his gaze. "I know. I don't want to interfere with your dream, Amara. That's the last thing I'd want."

But there was a sadness in his eyes, a resignation that made her chest tighten. She hated the idea of closing herself off, of keeping him at a distance. But the risk of letting herself fall for him, of letting herself be vulnerable, felt too great.

"So maybe we should just... take things slow," she said, her voice softer. "See where this goes, without any expectations."

A small smile touched his lips. "A tentative friendship, then?"

She nodded, returning his smile. "I think that sounds about right."

They stood there, facing each other, both aware of the delicate balance they were trying to maintain. And in that moment, despite the walls they'd both tried so hard to keep up, Amara knew that whatever this was—friendship or something more—she didn't want to lose it.

And maybe, just maybe, they could find a way forward, without sacrificing their dreams or risking their hearts... even if, deep down, she knew that was easier said than done