Page 28 of Unromance

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “I find nothing romantic about this. Why did you put it on the list? What about this does it for you?”

Mason laughed, placing a hand at her elbow to steady her as they queued up to get onto the rink. Glancing around, the smile on his face took up permanent residence as he watched the numerous couples holding hands, their gliding steps in sync as they skated beneath the canopy of twinkling lights, the instrumental Christmas music soft enough for whispered, intimate conversation. “Everything?” he breathed.

Sawyer rolled her eyes. “But it’s so crowded.”

He nodded toward a couple on the other side of the plexiglass, the way they grinned, eyes only for each other. “They have no idea there’s anyone here but them.”

Sawyer stumbled slightly as the toe of her skate snagged on the padded walkway. She heaved a heavy sigh. “You paid way too much for these rental skates.”

Mason shrugged. “Experiences are worth it.”

Sawyer pointed out a woman hitting the ice bum-first. “You’re so right,” she drawled sarcastically. “Nothing screams ‘romantic experience’ like a broken tailbone.”

As soon as the words left her lips, a man circled back to help the fallen woman up. The woman got back on her feet—albeit a little clumsily, like a colt using its legs for the first time—but there was no mistaking the mirth in her eyes as the man encircled her in his arms, the two of them laughing it off together.

“C’mon, that’s pretty cute,” Mason insisted.

Sawyer pursed her lips up at him obstinately, and he mimed adding a tally mark under his name midair.

They’d reached the edge of rink, and Mason stepped onto the ice, holding out a hand for her. She took it, and he could practically hear her teeth grinding together as she stepped onto the ice and… froze. Her other hand shot out, grasping his arm in a death grip.

At the sheer look of panic on Sawyer’s face, all plans of proving to her that this was romantic flew from Mason’s mind. A crowd was forming behind her, glaring at her to move so they could get onto the ice. He glared back before refocusing his attention on getting Sawyer through this list item safely.

“Sawyer,” he said quietly, her eyes snapping to his. “Walk toward me.”

She stared down at her feet like she was wearing cement blocks instead of skates. Tucking his hand under her chin, he guided her to look at him. He offered her a reassuring smile, turning so he was facing her fully and extending his other hand for her to hold. “Walk toward me.”

She took one wobbly step forward, careening into his chest. “Well, I think this cliché is sufficiently ruined,” she joked half-heartedly. “Let’s go.”

“We can leave whenever you want. Exit’s right there.” He gestured across the rink. He could see by her thousand-yard stare that it was taking everything in her not to go against the stream of skaters and walk backward out of the entrance they’d just come through.

“One lap,” she bargained, straightening, pride tingeing her cheeks pink. “I can do one.”

“You can totally do one,” he agreed heartily.

She took another hesitant step, and he mirrored her, keeping his hand at her elbow. She flinched as the speedy skaters zipped by, and he positioned himself in front of her again. “Don’t worry about them. Just look at me and I’ll look out for them.”

She nodded, taking another step, both her hands grasping his forearms for balance. Her steps grew more certain, Mason skating backward and glancing over his shoulder occasionally to make sure he didn’t plow over a toddler. Speaking of, the girl with the skate trainer glided past on slightly less wobbly legs.

“Oh God,” Sawyer murmured. “Did we just get lapped by a five-year-old?”

Mason couldn’t help but laugh.

“How did you learn, anyway?” she huffed, her breath clouding in front of her.

“My sister, Margot, was really into it when we were younger, though I think she was mostly into it for the costumes.”

Sawyer gasped. “Why didn’t we get costumes?”

“Next time,” he promised.

“Yeah?” She gave him a shit-eating grin. “I’d love to see you in head-to-toe bedazzled Lycra.”

“Whatever does it for you, I guess.” He wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore, but she was skating now, paying more attention to their conversation than on moving her legs. Confident that shewouldn’t face-plant, he shifted so he could skate beside her. Sawyer swallowed thickly, her eyes trained on the exit. “It wouldn’t be very inconspicuous.”

“Are you worried about that—being recognized—here?” she asked disjointedly.

He shook his head. “We should be fine.” He hoped that wasn’t a lie.

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