Chapter 39Avery
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Avery
The ice rink sprawls before us, a glistening expanse under the starlit sky. Victor strides ahead, his breath forming puffs of white in the cold night air. My stomach knots up, and I force myself to follow, my feet heavy in my boots.
"Looks great, doesn't it?" Victor's voice cuts through the winter silence, thick with anticipation.
"Uh-huh," is all I can muster, the memory of the last time we went skating playing on a loop in my mind—the laughter, the fall, and that unexpected, heart-stopping kiss we've both pretended never happened.
We reach the bench, and I sit down with a shaky exhale. Victor grabs us skates from the rental booth nearby and hands them to me. I'm just as unpracticed the second time around, fumbling with the laces. From the corner of my eye, I watch Victor, all easy grace and confidence as he bends over his own skates. His fingers deftly work the laces, no hint of hesitation.
"Need help with those?" His question pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up into those piercing blue eyes.
"No, I got it." The words are more defensive than I intend, a reflex from years of doing everything on my own.
"Okay." He stands, rolling his shoulders back, a casual shrug as if to say no offense taken.
I finish with my laces and stand, my legs feeling like they belong to someone else. Taking a deep breath, I try to find some semblance of the courage Victor seems to carry in spades.
"Ready?" he asks, his hand extended toward me.
"I guess," I reply, my voice steadier than I feel, and I place my hand in his. Victor's hand feels solid and warm, a contrast to the biting chill of the air. My grip is probably too tight, but he doesn't complain. Instead, he pulls me gently toward the ice, his confidence reassuring in a way that makes my heart do somersaults.
"Okay, slow and steady," he says as we step onto the slick surface.
"Easy for you to say," I mutter under my breath, but I trust him enough to follow his lead.
My first attempt is a disaster. My feet slide out from under me more than once, and I can feel my cheeks burn with a mixture of cold and embarrassment. But eventually, I loosen up enough to have fun. Victor's laughter mingles with mine, a sound that's becoming more familiar—and treasured—than I ever expected.
"You're doing great, Avery. Just keep your eyes on me."
I do as he says, focusing on the dark locks of his hair, the broad set of his shoulders leading the way, and those eyes that are somehow icier than the surface beneath us. It's mesmerizing how effortlessly he moves, like each glide is just an extension of his will.
"Look at you, not even holding on for dear life anymore," Victor teases after a while, and I realize he's right. The death grip I had on his hand has eased into something gentler. His fingers are still encased around mine, strong and sure, but there's a new ease between us.
"Guess I'm a quick learner," I reply, my voice steadier than my skating.
"Or maybe you've got a good teacher." He winks, and the look is so disarming that I almost miss a step.
"Careful," he chuckles, "can't have you falling for me—literally or figuratively."
The way he smiles at me has me heating up to the point where my winter coat feels too warm and I just hope my cheeks aren't betraying what I'm feeling right now.
I start to feel a rhythm in my glide that's almost natural. My skates carve tentative paths, but with Victor's hand in mine, I'm starting to think I can do this. Confidence bubbles inside me.
"See? You're getting the hang of it," Victor says, his voice both a challenge and a comfort as we circle the rink.
"Maybe I am." A grin spreads across my face, and for a moment, I let go of all my worries. Everything fades away, leaving just the cold air and the thrill of the ice.
I push forward, trying a little glide on my own, and that's when it happens. My skate catches on something, maybe a groove or just my own clumsy timing, and suddenly I'm lurching forward. My hands flail, grasping at nothing, and I'm about to collide with a figure gliding past—a blur of grace and speed that I'm nowhere near matching.
"Whoa, Avery!" Victor's voice is close, filled with concern.
Then he's there, his arms around me, pulling me back from disaster. The world spins for a second, disorienting, before I realize I'm pressed against him, his chest firm and reassuring. I blink up at him, my breath forming clouds between us.
"Gotcha," he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Thanks," I manage, my voice shaky. I'm not sure if it's from the near fall or his sudden proximity. His eyes are a clear blue, even in the evening light, and they hold mine with an intensity that sends another kind of shiver through me. My heart pounds as I realize this is exactly what caused our kiss the last time.
"Anytime, Avery. That's what I'm here for." His grip on me loosens, but he doesn't let go completely, as if he knows I'm still unsteady on more than just the ice.
"Let's keep going, okay? You were doing great," he encourages, and I nod, trying to find my center again.
"Watch where you're going, idiot!" The harsh words slice through the crisp air, snatching away the comfort of Victor's rescue. The skater I almost knocked over comes striding up to us. She's a haughty blonde in a figureskater's suit. Someone is standing near her with a camera. Clearly she is some sort of influencer, trying to record for social media.
"Sorry," I mumble, my face heating up as I meet her glare. Her eyes are unforgiving, her stance aggressive.
Victor's hand tightens around mine before he smoothly steps forward, placing himself between me and the oncoming storm. His body is a shield, his blue eyes now icy with anger. He doesn't raise his voice; he doesn't need to. "Back off," he says, each word clipped like the sharp crack of ice beneath a skate.
The woman looks ready to argue but seems to think better of it when she gets a good look at Victor's unwavering gaze. With a dismissive huff, she turns and skates away, tension trailing behind her.
"Let's get you off this ice," Victor murmurs, guiding me back to the bench with a warmth in his touch that belies the coldness of the night.
I can't help but glance up at him, my heart fluttering unexpectedly. "Thanks for, you know, stepping in."
He shrugs, though I catch the hint of a smile. "No big deal." But it is. It's a really big deal.
Sitting down, we peel off our skates, and I try to ignore the lingering embarrassment. Victor tosses me a look, his eyes softening. "Don't let that jerk get to you. She's got issues."
"Okay," I say, though I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy. "But it's getting late."
"Want me to take you home?" He sounds casual, but there's an undercurrent of something else, something... hopeful?
"Home?" I echo, the word feeling strangely intimate on my tongue. We lock eyes, and there's a beat, a breathless pause where everything else fades away.
"Home," he confirms, and something flickers in his expression.
"Yes," I whisper, feeling the weight of the unsaid. "Yes, take me home."