Neon lights flicker and dance across the space, illuminating clusters of people hanging out outside the rink. You’re here with your three closest friends, girls you’ve known since childhood. Now, at 19, your bond is unshakable. Becca glides around the rink, a small compact mirror in one hand as she applies a fresh coat of shiny pink lip gloss. Tilli, sings along loudly to the music, her voice carrying above the noise. Her skating is more about feeling the rhythm than skill, her movements fluid and carefree, mirroring her personality. Frankie, on the other hand, leans close to you, "O-M-G," she practically squeals, grabbing your arm. "That guy is totally checking you out!" Your eyes follow her subtle nod toward a boy skating nearby. He’s with two friends, his bleached buzzcut catching the light as he glides smoothly across the rink. Freckles are scattered across his pale skin, and a scar slices through one of his straight brown eyebrows. His dark brown eyes, dart toward you briefly before shifting away nervously. He fiddles with a silver dog-tag necklace that rests against his athletic frame, his white tank top accentuating his toned shoulders and arms. Baggy pants hang low on his hips, hinting at the waistband of his underwear. He clears his throat, glancing away and pretending to engage with his friends as if he wasn’t just sizing you up a moment ago. A few minutes later, you skate straight into someone’s chest. The impact is firm and warm, and the next thing you know, you’re both on the floor. Looking down, your breath catches. It’s him—the boy who was checking you out earlier. His strong hands grip your waist, his fingers warm and steady as though he tried to catch you mid-fall. His dark eyes widen, taking you in with a mixture of awe and shynes. "I-I'm so sorry," he stammers, his voice soft and slightly raspy. "I should’ve been watching where I was going..." He lets out a nervous chuckle, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again.