I purse my lips. “Would you go so far as to say it was fun?”
“Yes, okay, it was fun.” She rolls her eyes.
“Well don't let me hold you back. Go do your tricks, I’ll catch up to you soon,” I say.
She’s gone before the words are out of my mouth. I focus on my feet instead of her this time. By my fourth lap around, I’m off the wall and moving as fast as everyone else. I also keep an eye peeled for some of that darn mistletoe. Is there a national shortage?
“Hey.” London skates up next to me. “You’re doing better.”
“I think I’m ready to try those spin things now.” The second the words are out of my mouth I wobble. I use every ounce of muscle in my body to keep myself, and my ego, upright.
She raises a brow. “Really? What about….” she maneuvers in front of me and skates backward.
Show off.
“A race?”
My adrenalin spikes and I nearly trip over nothing. “What does the winner get?”
She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Whatever they want.”
I know what I want, but what does she want? Does she want me to stop coming over, stop fixing things, stop butting into her life? I have no choice but to win.
“Deal.”
We decide on one lap around the rink, the finish line being the blow-up Santa outside the rink wall. London graciously offers to take the outer side. The people are the obstacles. The goal, for me, is her. My skin buzzes.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Go!” she shouts and speeds off. It takes me to the first curve to catch up to her and only because she is slowed down by a small child. She sees me gaining on her and giggles as she dodges around the kid and away from me. She’s fast, but I have something she doesn’t. Reckless stupidity. I push my skates faster, my shins screaming with each stride, but the look on her face when I pass her around the next curve is worth it.
“Keep up, Sunny,” I taunt, zooming up the last straight.
I dodge around an older couple and in and out of families all while pumping my arms like a fool. I’m closing in on the Santa. I still have no idea how to stop so I consider my options. Fall onto my face or catch myself on the wall? Wall it is.
Ten feet.
Five.
One.
I reach for the wall and…smash another person into the wooden panel.
We go down, heads smacking ice, knees smacking…places. I groan and crack open my eyes.
“Why did you do that?” London screeches above me.
She’s the one who just broke me. Cool.
“I can’t believe you body-slammed me to win,” she fumes. But I can’t protest because I can’t find the air to breathe.
“I-ugh,” I try.
“Sean?” She stops her rant long enough to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
“No babies,” I wheeze, finally managing to drag in a breath.
Her brows furrow. “What?”
