Page 57 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

We get another few rounds of laughter in, followed by poor attempts to get up. I finally use the wall to pull myself up, then exert all my strength to get him standing as well—he’s still laughing too hard to get up by himself.

“If I make it one time around before this place closes, it’ll be a miracle.”

He straightens up. “If you make it one time around, I’ll let you keep that scarf.”

“For real?”

“Sure.”

I stick my hands out to him. “Okay, let’s go.”

Now he’s the one staring at my hands like they’re bombs about to go off. His hair is all disheveled and I feel like running my fingers through it to get all the bits of ice out, but I don’t trust myself to move without his help.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh, unable to keep the smile off his face. He glides up in front of me and guides my hands up on his shoulders, latching my fingers behind his neck. Tingles travel up and down my coat-covered arms as he settles his hands on my hips as if we’re dancing. I can’t stop looking into his eyes. He can’t seem to stop looking into mine. There’s this crazy energy I haven’t felt in years—so many years that I start to question if I’ve ever felt it at all.

“Don’t move,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Relax and trust me, ’kay?”

“Trust you?” I tease.

“Work on the relaxing part, then.” His dimple creases in, and he bends a little at his waist and shoves off the ice.

My arms immediately lock around his neck. “Don’t take me backward!”

He laughs. On the turn,heturns us, and I scream, but it’s a happy scream. One that comes from deep inside my heart and makes me smile when it comes out. He’s now pulling me down the ice, not pushing me, and I swear my ankles are going to give way and we’ll be another pile of limbs on the rink, but I look at his steady feet and almost subconsciously my body relaxes into his.

It’s been too long since I’ve trusted a guy like this. Even though it’s just ice-skating, I feel like I’m trusting him with so much more. Trusting him not to judge me, trusting him to catch me, trusting him even after we fell. It’s all metaphoricalandliteral, and I can’t wrap my head around it just yet. All I know is that I’m genuinely happy in this moment.

“That’s twice, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

His hands feather up my sides to my elbows, and he gently coaxes me to loosen my grip. “We made it two times around.”

I glance around the huge rink, noticing the stiffness in my arms and legs for the first time. Alec’s eyes capture my attention again, and I slowly—very slowly—raise my arm into the air and give God a fist bump.

“I did it!”

“Think you can do it on your own?”

“Don’t you dare let me go.” I slam my hand back down on his shoulder and hold him tight. He grapples at my fingers, trying to pry them from his coat, but I’ve got a hell of a grip. So instead he tickles my sides.

“Don’t, Alec, don’t, don’t!” I squeal, refusing to recoil and lose my hold on him. But he laughs because he thinks this is hilarious, which it so isn’t, and the next thing I know his face goes from humorous to scared shitless as he loses his footing. He catches himself (using me!) and then lets out a sigh of relief.

But that relief only lasts half a second, because he’s destined to fall. And as he slips, I let go, determined not to go down with him.

He slams on the ice hard, and a couple of bozos say some stupid-ass remark not worth repeating. My arms are straight out to my sides like I’m about to take flight when really I’m just hoping for balance, which is twice as difficult since I’m laughing hard enough that my donkey snorts are coming out every other second.

“Are you okay?” I ask through my amusement. He looks up at me, nose wrinkled, and a low groan issues from his throat.

“I’m not going to feel too bad,” I tell him. “This wasyourgenius ide-e-e-e-e-a—” As I say that last word, a passing skater knocks into my arm, making me wobble on my unsteady feet and windmill my arms in an effort to keep myself upright.

“Well, at least whenyouwent down, I gave you a soft landing.” He smirks.

“Soft?” I pointedly look at his crotch. “That’s debatable.”

A burning red douses his ears and speckles his cheeks as he tries to laugh it off, and I feel all wobbly for an entirely different reason. He sticks his hands out to me so I can help him up, but I shake my head furiously at him.

“Use the wall, friend. I’m not moving a muscle.”

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