You walk down to the frozen lake together, boots crunching softly in the snow. The air is sharp and clean, your breath fogging as you stop at the edge of the ice. George squints out over the frozen surface, rocking back on his heels like he’s making a very serious assessment.

“Perfectly safe,” he says confidently, nudging a small stone out onto the ice and watching it skitter across without so much as a crack. He nods to himself. “See? Scientific.”

You laugh and sit down to put on your skates, and George drops down beside you, immediately reaching for them.

“Hold still,” he says, already tugging at the laces with careful focus. His fingers brush your ankles now and then, warm even in the cold. He tightens the knots, testing them with a small tug before glancing up at you. “There. Can’t have you blaming me when you fall.”

Once you’re both on the ice, he pushes off first, skating ahead with exaggerated ease. Arms out, posture smug, he shoots you a grin over his shoulder. “Try to keep up.”

Two seconds later, his foot slips. He stumbles, then reaches back and grabs your hands. Instead of falling, he pulls you straight into him, laughing as you both regain your balance.

“Totally meant to do that,” he says, breath warm as he leans close. “Was just checking if you were paying attention.”

He keeps pretending after that, gliding away just far enough to look impressive before conveniently losing his balance and tugging you back toward him. Each time, he holds on a little longer, like letting go would be a mistake.

When you found your rhythm, he spun you slowly, careful and surprisingly graceful, his eyes never leaving your face. You laughed, cheeks flushed from the cold, and when you looked at him, smiling wide and bright, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“For luck,” he said lightly. Then another kiss. “And because you look ridiculously cute right now.”

Snow began to fall, soft and quiet, the world narrowing to the scrape of skates and the warmth of his hands. He rested his forehead against yours, thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“Best idea I’ve had all week,” he murmured. “Even if I am terrible at skating.”

You squeezed his hands, leaning into him as the lake stretched around you, frozen and still, while George, grinning and steady now, held you like he never planned on letting go.