The Valley, California, 1984.

The neon lights of the roller rink cast a soft glow on Daniel’s face as he wobbled beside you, gripping your hand for dear life.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’m cut out for this,”

he muttered, nearly stumbling again.

You and Daniel were on a date, a little break from all the drama going on.

“Just hold onto me!”

You said.

Daniel did just that—probably a little too enthusiastically—as his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you both to a slow glide. His nervous chuckle melted into a quiet sigh when you turned to face him, hands sliding up his chest.

The disco ball spun overhead, reflecting little dots of light as Daniel leaned in. His lips met yours in a soft, slow kiss, the faint taste of cherry slush lingering. When he pulled back, his brown eyes were locked on yours.

“Hey, I think I finally got the hang of it,”

he said, standing up straight, fighting for his dear life not to stumble over .

“You must be my good luck charm.”