Page 56 of Perfectly Faked

I stand, testing out my skates before I join her on the ice. “I can’t dance. I’m an athlete, remember?”

She rolls her eyes. “You want to be a good partner, right? This is basic synchronization. And all athletes can benefit from dancing. You’ve heard about football players who take ballet, right? It’s the same idea.”

“I’m not a football player, Vic,” I remind her. “I have two left feet.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll lead,” she says.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” I say with a grin. Teasing her is the only thing keeping me from losing my focus completely around her.

“Alright, you two,” Eugene calls, “less banter, more skating. Show me you can get along on the ice this time.”

I let out a breath and enter the rink, following Victoria to the center.

“Okay, Ego,” she says. “Are you ready to dance?” I turn to face her as she moves closer, watching me with the same intensity she always has when she’s performing—all business. “Take my hand. Right hand on my back.”

I follow her instructions, one hand holding hers, my palm pressing against the small of her back. Her body tenses slightly under my touch, and I force myself not to think about how soft and warm she feels—or how dangerously close my hand is to her waist.

“Pull me in closer,” she says, glancing down at the gap between us. “This won’t work if you’re holding me like a middle schooler at his first dance.”

“I just don’t want to trip you again,” I say, which is only half true. The other fact is that it drives me crazy to have her soft pink lips only inches from mine and try to pretend I’m not affected.Ever since our last kiss, I don’t have to imagine how it would feel for my mouth to crash into hers—I’ve already experienced it firsthand. With one kiss, she made me forget the world existed.

“You won’t trip me. You just need to loosen up,” she says, pulling my wandering thoughts back to the moment. She shifts slightly, her body brushing against me. My shoulders tense, and it’s all I can do to keep my head in the game. “You’re holding on to me like you’re afraid of dropping me.”

“I’m not scared of skating with you, Victoria. I’m scared of falling for you again—and this time, not being able to get back up.”

Her eyes flick up to mine and she pauses. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why? We’re supposed to be dating.”

“Pretenddating,” she adds in a whisper. “What if somebody hears you?”

“You mean Eugene?” I frown. “There’s no way he can hear us at his age.”

“Be nice.” She gives me a look of warning. “And no more flirting while we’re practicing. We’re going to skate forward, then backward. Try to keep your movements in sync with mine.”

“No promises,” I say. “Just remember, I’m no dancer.”

She glides forward and I focus on the ice and move in time with her. Our strides fall into rhythm quickly, almost like we’ve done this before, and I can feel the subtle press of her hand guiding me.

“Better than I expected,” she says after a few smooth strokes. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“Careful,” I say. “You keep complimenting me, and I might start thinking you like me.”

She laughs before her gaze flicks to Eugene, a subtle reminder to get back to business. “Now, let’s try it backward.”

I follow her lead, mirroring her movements as we pivot into a backward glide. Skating backward has never been difficult for me, but now that I’m responsible for her balance too, there’s more pressure not to mess up.

For a brief moment, we get out of sync, and I tighten my grip on her back, shifting her body against mine. Her breath hitches for just a second as she quickly adjusts her footwork. It’s a tiny gasp—the same sound she made when I kissed her at Boots and Buckles—but it’s enough to send my brain spiraling into dangerous territory. I want to hear that sound again. Butonlywhen my lips are on hers.

“You’re tense,” she says. “Relax. You’re supposed to glide, not hustle for a puck.”

“Relax?” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow. “I’m trying not to crash into you.”

Her lips curve into a smile. “You’re not that bad. Here—” She stops abruptly, pulling away from my arms and skating behind me. Her hands land on my shoulders.

“What are you doing?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.

“Let me guide you,” she says.

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