Page 17 of For Pleasure Or Worse

"How is it that no one has given it an update since 1986?" I laughed.

"I don't even think they've hired anyone new since ‘86," he said, nodding at the old man behind the skates counter. "Guy smells like rotting leather."

I kicked off my sneakers and tucked them under the bench. Before I could reach down, Mateo sank to a knee and grabbed my ankle, bringing my foot to rest on his thigh. My skin prickled to attention, and a swallow got stuck halfway down my throat. I’d been so deprived I was losing my mind over the muscle in his quad that I could feel through the thin layer of my sock.

God, his legs. He was stretching that denim to its limit, tight across his lap, but I wasn't looking… No, I was definitely not looking.

"I'm…I'm probably going to embarrass myself out there," I said to fill the silence as Mateo guided my heel gently into the skate. He pressed his thumb into the toes, testing the size, like a parent to a child with new shoes, and when he must’ve been satisfied, he started on the laces.

"That's okay." He smiled. "Embarrassment is a state of mind. I'll be with you every step of the way."

His fingers made quick work of the thin brown strings, weaving them all the way up and around the back of the skate once before giving me a double knot. We swapped ankles. This time, his thumb crept higher under the seam of my jeans, rubbing against skin. It was so inconsequential, he probably hadn't even realized he'd done it, and yet I was pleading silently that he’d planned that secret touch and knew exactly the effect it would have on me.

He laced the other skate up just as fast, twisting it into a knot that cinched at my ankle and giving me two pats of approval. "You're nice and tight."

My mouth twitched and Mateo caught it.

"And cheeky," he added.

"I'm trying to be good," I admitted. "First impressions and all."

"Don't be good," he said. "Be yourself."

"All right." I nodded. "I wasn't going to say anything but you probably caught chlamydia from that carpet."

"That’s all right. I like the view from down here."

My lips parted and warmth settled low in my stomach. "Who's cheeky now?"

He clambered to his feet again, rubbing dust off his jeans and clapping it from his hands. "I can tell that you and I are just scratching the surface."

The rink itself was surrounded by four-foot walls, little slats of empty space to enter and exit back onto the safety of the rug. I hobbled from our bench to the wall a few feet away, one skate in front of the other, and swiveled back around. Mateo was still sitting on the bench with his skates tied, his hands clasped and elbows on his knees.

"Coming?"

"I have a secret." He scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's nothing cool. It's actually more of a confession than a secret. But depending on how the rest of tonight goes, it might be a secret for us."

"That's quite the burden to bear. It better be good."

"Now"—he lifted his finger to no one, conducting his own dialogue like I'd noticed he often did—"you have to promise me, okay? That this stays close to your chest."

"God, the suspense is killing me."

Mateo took a long breath, filling his cheeks with air and blowing it out. "I don't know how to roller skate."

A short laugh burst out of me. His expression remained flat and I recouped. "Wait, what?"

"Never been."

"Mateo." I was still catching up to reality. "Why did you put that on the cards?"

He shrugged. "What were the odds of you actually choosing that one out of all of them?"

"Pretty fair," I said. "As good as anything else. You could have told me to pick a new one!"

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