The Perfect Escape (The Perfect Escape #1) - Suzanne Park Page 0,35
up.
Nate’s hand.
Damn it, Lord, why have you forsaken me? All I needed now was an embarrassing hairnet and a missing wig.
While he helped Raina to her feet, I moved my legs from a mermaid position to a kneeling one, and used all the upper body strength I could muster to push myself up. My shins pulsed with pain.
Once stable on my feet, I rolled to the nearest bench two feet away and sat with a hard thump. Raina talked to the blond beauty while Nate sat down next to me.
“So,” he said with a smirk, “how’s your day going?”
“Fantastic,” I said, rubbing my right calf, wanting to die right there. “My floor warm-up is done. Time to go out there and slay it.” I nodded toward the rink, then I focused on retying my skates, making precise loops and knots, hoping that if I kept looking downward he wouldn’t notice my sweat surfacing on my forehead and upper lip. Or the red rashes flaring up on my hands.
Neither of us discussed the girl. Neither of us said much of anything at all. But it was the kind of comfortable silence that was natural between familiar friends. Quiet and relaxed. Easy.
The song medley on the overhead speakers soon came to an end, and the DJ rattled off a long list of announcements into the crackling mic. Skating ended in an hour. Half-price hot dog special ending soon. Someone had parked their Tesla in the fire zone and it would be towed. Half the crowd booed, half cheered at that last one.
Next came the most dreaded words for any boyfriendless person, just as I finished tying the most perfect bow on my skate. “And now it’s tiiiiime…for couples’ skate! Where are my couples at? Wooop-woop!”
The lights dimmed, and the rink cleared fast, leaving only a handful of couples still skating, holding hands. A few daring singletons stayed in the center area, twirling and sweeping their arms to some shitty Maroon 5 song. A round white L sticker under Nate’s shirt pocket glowed in the black light. I yanked it off and handed it to him.
Our eyes met. “Thanks.” He stuffed it into his shirt pocket and didn’t break his gaze.
One of Nate’s guy friends came over to bum some quarters. The interruption gave me a chance to think about my options.
Did I go home, or sit here like a bored lump waiting for couples’ skate to end? Did I go all carpe diem and ask Nate to hit the rink with me?
As Nate put his wallet back into his pants pocket, I pressed my palms into my thighs and leaned forward, nearly ready to spring into action. A hard lump formed in my throat, yet one more thing to get in the way of me simply saying to Nate, “Hey, let’s go skate!”
A small voice inside my head pleaded for me to just do it. Get up. Ask him! Go skate with Nate, Kate. Stop giggling to yourself about how that rhymes. Don’t make me bitch-slap you later about this.
A voice cut through my meandering thoughts. “Let’s skate!”
But it wasn’t Nate’s voice speaking to me. It was what’s-her-name blond chick, talking to Nate in a smooth-as-silk, velvety voice. Dang it, even her voice was sexy.
Her arm outstretched daintily, like the paintings I’d seen of sirens in Greek tragedies.
Nate breathed unevenly, “Me? Um, now?”
She tossed her hair and laughed, then pointed at the nearest overhead speaker. “Yes, before it ends. I love this song!” Then, she giggled, “Let’s skate, Nate. Hey, that rhymes!”
I hated her for pointing out the rhyming. And I hated the song “Moves Like Jagger.” And hated her for loving that song.
Nate cocked an eyebrow and shot me a long look, like he was telepathically asking me a question, but I couldn’t read him. Was it regret? Sympathy? Damn it. Surely he didn’t expect me to throw my hat in the ring and ask him to skate too, now? Compete against the bombshell? I froze, and that was on me. I blew it.