I think maybe I was overestimating my ability to be normal around Rose. I force myself to look at the ceiling, and the walls, and the rink—anywhere except for her. And when she softly places her hand on the side of my calf, I tell myself not to care, or notice, that she leaves it there for way longer than I think she needs to. I mess both directions up immediately. I’m gritting my teeth so hard it hurts.

She pauses until I look down at her. “Do you want Theodore to come in?” she asks. I guess she’s noticed my body language, and is trying to figure out why I’m so on edge.

If he comes inside, there will be zero tension, right? It’s impossible to imagine chemistry that doesn’t exist while some random guy stares you down. What an awesome idea.

“No, it’s fine,” I say.

My brain groans at me.

Rose doesn’t even slow down as she steps onto the ice, like there’s no difference between walking and gliding for her. Her hair whips around as she skates, and she’s alight as she turns backward to look at me. I wonder if she knows how beautiful she looks like this. Like, maybe she wanted to bring me here not so she could teach me, but so someone could witness her being completely, totally perfect.

As for me, I sort of drag myself along while clutching at the barrier for dear life. I manage to keep myself upright doing that for ten whole seconds, but then my legs shoot out in different directions out of nowhere and I go down hard.

Rose doubles over laughing at me, and I would hate her a tad for it, but my elbows and tailbone hurt too much for me to focus on anything else. At least she apologizes when she helps me back up.

“I’m going to make you learn snowboarding,” I grumble as I try to straighten my wobbling legs. “And I’m gonna laugh at you the whole time.”

“You should, I deserve it. But I’ll warn you now, I’m a fast learner.”

“I’ll find something to laugh at,” I promise. My back is straight now, and both of my hands are in Rose’s. She’s wearing a pair of woolen gloves, and they’re fuzzy against my bare skin. She holds eye contact with me, and it’s like when she touched my leg. A little too soft, and a little too long. And it burns, just a little too hot.

“I’ll make sure I give you something,” she says. “Just to be fair.”

My nerves are fucking frayed. I hope to god she can’t tell.

“But seriously,” she says. “I do want to hold you to that ski race sometime. If you can bear the thought of being cooped up in a chalet with me.”