Finally, the jig is up: he pulls off a main road down a narrow street that winds into the town forest. He drives slowly through the heavy thicket of pine trees until we reach a clearing. There’s a cul-de-sac full of cars streaked with winter grime parked near an outdoor ice-skating rink. Although it’s a dark night, the rink itself is bright, thanks to white floodlights and golden Christmas lights wrapped around aluminum poles. I’ve been to this rink a few times for my elementary school classmates’ birthday parties, but it’s only now, as an adult, that I see how charming this spot really is.

“This is so sweet!” I exclaim, getting out of the car.

“Do you skate?” he asks.

He looks hopeful but hesitant, the way people do when they hand you presents with the tags still attached in case you want to return them.

“I haven’t skated in years, but I always liked it as a kid,” I say.

“Me, too,” he says.

A rink attendant in a red clapboard shed asks for our shoe sizes and hands us clunky skates. We lace them up and totter to the edge of the rink. He steps over the threshold first, then extends his hand so I can steady myself as I step onto the ice. I take a few tentative glides with my hand hovering over the railing in case I lose my balance.

We make a slow first lap side by side, getting used to being on the ice. There aren’t many other people here—three couples in casual clothes and a single skater in athletic gear who makes sharp turns and elegant spins—so it’s calm enough to go at our own pace.

“So far, so good, but I bet I’ll fall flat on my ass at least once tonight,” I say.

“I’ll catch you,” he says.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll probably pull you down with me,” I warn.

“You’re not gonna fall,” he predicts. “I remember you on beam back in the day—your balance is absurd.”

“Don’t jinx it,” I say.

He’s right, though; by our second lap, I feel sturdier, and by our third, I’ve regained my confidence. I slip my hand into his and trust my balance enough to plant a kiss on his cheek as we glide. I can’t help but see flashes of the future—maybe we’ll hike this spring, canoe this summer, train for a half marathon together this fall. We’re both used to solitary sports, but there’s something appealing about tackling new adventures as a pair.