Chapter 35 Alex #3
“I couldn’t tell,” I said, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. “You looked strong and confident.”
She laughed, a soft, disbelieving sound, and rested her forehead against mine for a second, just long enough to steal my breath.
The rink slowly emptied as Mel dismissed everyone, and the skaters trickled off the floor, some limping, some laughing, all sweaty and exhausted.
I grabbed her skate bag before she could protest. She was still riding the post-tryout high, talking faster than I’d ever heard her talk.
We crossed the parking lot together, her steps light and bouncy even though she’d just spent two hours pushing her body to its limit.
“And then Mel said my crossovers were actually improving, and Robin said I wasn’t terrible, which I’m pretty sure is derby for pretty good, and they’re announcing who made the team this week—Thursday or Friday?—but there are only two openings, and I don’t want to get my hopes up, because that’s—”
She kept going, breathless and glowing, hands flying as she described every drill, every whistle, every moment she thought she’d messed up but didn’t.
It was adorable.
We reached the car, and I opened her door for her. She barely paused in her story as she slid in, buckled her seatbelt, and launched into another explanation of the weave pattern and how she almost tripped but didn’t.
I wasn’t hearing all of it anymore. I was watching her. Her flushed cheeks. Her spark-bright eyes. The blue streaks slipping loose around her face. The way her lungs filled with pride, not fear. The way she finally, finally, looked like someone who took up space on purpose.
She kept talking.
And I leaned in.
Before I knew what I was doing, before I could think about timing or hesitating or whether this was smart or reasonable, I slid one hand to the side of her jaw and kissed her.
Just a small kiss at first, gentle, tentative, a question I didn’t say out loud.
But she answered it.
She made a soft sound, barely audible, and her hand curled into my shirt, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened instinctively, like something we’d both been holding back broke free all at once.
I poured everything into it. The pride I felt watching her, the way watching her skate had knocked the breath out of me.
She pulled back eventually—breathless, wide-eyed, lips flushed.
“What . . . what was that for?” she whispered.
I didn’t even try to hide how dazed I felt. I leaned back in and kissed her again. Though it was quick this time, soft, but full of truth, and then rested my forehead against hers.
“I just wanted to,” I murmured.
Her breath hitched.
And in that tender, quiet little space between us, with her hands holding onto me and her blue hair brushing my cheek, I felt like I had found my home.
When we pulled up to Becca’s, the front door burst open, and Leo came flying out like shot confetti.
“DID YOU MAKE THE TEAM?!” he shouted before she even stepped out of the car.
Eleanor laughed as he wrapped himself around her waist. “We won’t know until later this week, buddy.”
Ava appeared behind him, clipboard tucked under her arm. “We require updates.”
“You’ll have them,” Eleanor promised.
The kids chattered all the way back to the porch as Eleanor and I sat on the porch swing.
Then Leo gasped dramatically. “Can we have a sleepover?”
Ava’s eyes widened. “Yes. Can we?”
Eleanor and I spoke at the same time. “It’s a school night.”
Both kids groaned.
“But,” I added, exchanging a look with her, “the first weekend of summer? We can do a big sleepover then.”
“A beginning-of-summer celebration,” Ava said thoughtfully.
“With pancakes!” Leo added.
“And haunted houses,” Ava said.
“And popsicles!” Leo shouted.
They ran inside toward Becca before any adult could add conditions. Probably for the best.
Eleanor turned toward the driveway, brushing her hair off her forehead. “We should go help them clean whatever . . . chaos they created.”
“Absolutely,” I said. Though if I was honest, I wasn’t in a hurry to move.
She took two steps toward the house, and I couldn’t help myself. I reached out, gently catching her hand and tugging her back toward me. She stumbled right into my space, right into my warm breath, right into every reckless thing I wanted.
I kissed her again. I just couldn’t get enough of her today.
When I pulled back, she looked a little dazed.
“So,” I murmured with a smile I couldn’t hold back, “maybe . . . when the kids have their summer sleepover . . . we could have one too?”
Her breath caught instantly.
The fear flashed across her face so fast that I stepped back without thinking.
“Hey—hey,” I said softly, hands lifting in apology. “Sorry. Too fast. Forget I said anything. Really.”
“No.” She pressed her hand to her chest—trying to steady herself, maybe. “No, I . . . I want to.”
I froze.
Her eyes were shiny, honest, and wide. “I really want to. I just . . . ” Her lips pressed together. “It would be the first time since Ethan.”
That landed deep.
I stepped closer but not too close—just enough to let her choose the distance. “El,” I said quietly, “I get it. Really. I don’t want to push you. Ever.”
“I know.” She swallowed hard. “It’s not that I don’t want . . . you. I do. I really do.”
“We go at your pace. Don’t forget that,” I said. “Any pace. Whatever feels safe.”
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. Enough to let hope in.
“And,” I added, “we already have a plan if you’re ready.”
She blinked. “We do?”
“End-of-school sleepover. Kids at Becca’s. And you . . . ” My voice softened. “You with me.”
Her lips parted. Her cheeks flushed that beautiful, soft rose color that always made me want to kiss her again.
“Okay,” she whispered.
I let her take my hand again, her fingers warm and trembling slightly, and we walked together toward the other house, toward the mess the kids undoubtedly made, toward a plan that suddenly felt like the promise of something real.
Something we were both ready for.
Or at least ready to try.