𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ₊˚｡❆

The rink was glowing — strings of fairy lights looped above your heads, casting soft yellow halos on the ice. Music floated in the background, the kind of dreamy playlist that made everything feel like a rom-com.

Your hands were shoved into your coat pockets, your scarf slightly crooked, and your skates? Untied.

“You’re stalling,” Silas said from beside you, already laced up and standing steady on the rubber mat.

You shot him a look. “I am not stalling. I’m… mentally preparing.”

He knelt down beside you with that soft half-smile he always wore when he knew you were nervous. “Let me help.”

You extended your foot with a mock sigh. “Fine. But if I fall, I’m suing.”

He tightened your laces gently, his fingers warm despite the cold. “You won’t fall.”

“Statistically, that’s a lie.”

He stood up and held out a hand. “I won’t let you fall, then.”

You stared at his outstretched hand for a second too long, then took it.

The cold hit your cheeks the second you stepped onto the ice — the kind of chill that bit through your coat and made your nose red instantly. You wobbled the second your skates touched the surface.

Silas was already steady beside you, holding your hand, the other casually tucked into his hoodie pocket like this was nothing.

“Okay, you’re not even struggling,” you muttered, clinging to him. “How do you already know how to do this?”

He gave you that calm shrug. “Skated every winter when I was little. Muscle memory, I guess.”

“Well, my muscles are scared.”

He gently tugged you forward. “Then we’ll go slow.”

You shuffled like a baby deer, clutching his arm, both of you laughing every time you slipped just enough to panic but not enough to fall. Silas never let go — even when he skated backward to face you, guiding you along, his gloved hands wrapped around yours.

“You’re doing better,” he said after a few laps.

“I still hate this.”

“You don’t. You’re smiling.”

“Fake smile.”

He raised a brow. “Fake smiles don’t crinkle your eyes like that.”