She hated it. Not a fan of skating, which honestly, I don’t get. Skating’s one of the best things in the world. But she alwaysloved watching me play. She used to sit in the stands, her feet swinging, a bag of Skittles in her lap. She made signs for my games, and I kept every single one tucked in my closet.
We talk for a few more minutes. She complains about math, I threaten to call her teacher. She makes fun of my taste in music, I tell her she has none. It’s easy, fun. I love this kid.
After we hang up, I peel off my clothes and step into the shower. When I’m done, I wrap a towel around my waist and I wipe the fog off the glass, staring at my reflection for a few seconds.
Still the same mess.
Still pretending like I’ve got my shit figured out when I have no clue what I’m doing.
I pull on some sweatpants and flop back onto my bed, grabbing my phone. I check for any new messages from the one girl who’s been occupying my head every damn day.
I don’t even know her real name, but every time my phone lights up, I hope it’s her.
I check my phone. No new messages from Cherry.
Instead, I end up scrolling mindlessly through social media until something makes me stop.
Maisie Wilson followed you.
I click on her profile immediately. It’s pretty minimal, with only a handful of pictures, but my gaze catches on a pinned video, and I click on it.
I hit play, not really expecting much, just out of curiosity, I guess. But the second the video starts, I’m frozen.
She’s gliding on the ice so gracefully, I blink in shock. How is this the same stubborn girl who barely glanced at me the other day? Her leg lifts as she leans forward, moving around the rink like she owns it.
And then she starts spinning. Fast. Like, crazy fast. She lifts her arms above her head as she rotates, and a few secondslater, she launches into a jump, spinning in the air. She lands it perfectly, gliding backwards with her arms stretched out.
I blink. Rewind five seconds. Watch it again.
Jesus.
I knew she skated. But this? This is another level. She’s not just good, she’s incredible. Sharp and focused and so fucking graceful it kind of makes my brain short-circuit.
I blink. Scroll to another one.
This one’s set to some old Adele song—definitely not my usual vibe—but shit, it fits.
She dips into a turn, her leg sweeping behind her, and it’s so fucking beautiful, I can’t stop staring. She moves like the ice is an extension of her.
I didn’t know she could move like this.
Didn’t know anyone could.
I double-tap without thinking.
Then, because I can’t help myself, I send her a message.
Me:
u stalking me freckles?
She unfollows me.
Immediately.
I bark out a laugh. Ballsy move.
Before I can even decide whether to message her again, my phone buzzes and my lips tip into a grin when I see it’s a reply from her.
