Page 40 of Wonderstruck

You ask yourself these questions overand over again until you remember thatfinding the answer won’t bring him back. So instead you go back to reading, or studying, or grabbing coffee, until you remember how wrong it feels to be getting on with your life, and then you lose your footing and suddenly you’re sinking into that pit of guilt again.

It’s a never-ending story. A tale as oldas the sun. And one I was sure I’d neverbe able to put down.

That’s all I was thinking about as I pulled doors that led to the Lions rink. Now ice-cold coffee still wedged in my hands.

I had to pull myself together, just for the next hour, at least.Because I had more pressing problems to worry about right now, namely the six foot something man circling the rink.

I quickly walked to the edge of the iceand sat perched on the edge of theempty bleachers, watching Finn weave across the rink. He wasn’t showy when he skated, not the kind to draw attention on purpose, but the way he moved—powerful, deliberate, effortless—commanded it anyway.

He scraped his stick back andpummeled a puck into the back of the net, then again, the sound ricocheting off the glass. Curving to a stop, his blades made a little wave of ice. For a split second, I forgot why I was here. I forgot everything except the sharp lines of his movements and the grin that tugged at his mouth as he straightened.

When he turned around just enough, his eyes found me, and the trancebroke, but his smile only got bigger, ifanything.

He skated toward the edge, scrapingto a stop until he was perched over the barrier. “Thoughts?” He breathed.

I shrugged, stretching up an headingtoward him, hoping my face didn’t betray the way my stomach had twisted with treacherous butterflies. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” He pressed a hand to hischest. “You wound me, Greene.”

I rolled my eyes, grippingmy skates to my chest. The blades clinked faintly together. "I'm sure you'll get over it."

Ignoring the quip and giving me nothing but a small smirk, his eyes dropped the skates, then slowlyraised them back to me. “Ready for this?”

I hesitated. My fingers tightened, the cold air biting at my cheeks like a warning. Finn noticed—I could tell by the way his teasing softened into something quieter.

My head tilted. “Are you sure we can’tstart with you first? How great doescoffee at Flo’s and a four-hundred-page textbook on vocab sound?”

He shook his head as he skated back,spinning idly before dropping his warm gaze back onto me. “Sounds better than great, but you know the longer you put this off, the harder it’ll be.”

In an instant, my head fell. My heart was beating faster by the second. So fast I’m surprised it wasn’t shaking the plexiglass.

“Hey,” he said, earning back my stareas he drifted back towards the edge. “I’ve got you, remember? There’s no pressure. We’ll go slow.”

Slow. Right.

My gaze flew around the rink, if onlyto give myself a moment, another one, tolet my heart simmer, as well as my mind.But only when they drifted back to Finn did they really calm down, as though he were a sunrise after a storm, a quiet promise that everything would be okay.

But how could that be? This was the boy who broke my heart. Why should I feel so safe?

The silly part of my mind answered for me.

Because you do. You always have.

I shook the insane thoughts loose and silently headed to the bench to get this over with. When I finally had my skates on, Istood, the blades felt alien under me, precarious and sharp. I forced my feet forward, one step, then another, until I was at the edge of the rink. My head drifted up to meet Finn, his figure just ahead of me.

I watched as his lips parted. “Do youwant me to go—”

“No.” I rushed, our stares burning, likehe was holding my hands as I took another step.

The thought surged through me.“If I ask you to hold my hand, please don’t laugh at me.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, but his dimples weren’t the only thing that appeared—something flickered in his eyes, something unreadable. Then, his voice dropped, slow and deliberate.“Holding your hand is no laughing matter. Trust me.”

My breath hitched. My eyes fell back to my wobbly skates, but not quickly enough to miss the way he was looking at me. Like he meant it.

So I ignored it. Kind of.

“Just… stay there.” I peered up athim. “Just in case.”

---