“Yeah, yeah. The guys were giving me shit every time you’d leave, about the little redhead who comes in to spy on me.”
“Ohmygod,” I moan, burying my head in my gloved hands. I think I’m going to be sick. Is throwing up a better option than running away? “It’s not like that,” I mutter, but the words are muffled by my hands, and they sound more like is mowt like tha.
Mason pulls my hands away from my face, a teasing smile on his lips. “No need to get all flustered like that, Legs. They’re just a bunch of jealous assholes.”
“They’re your friends,” I point out unnecessarily.
“Doesn’t make them less of jealous assholes. Did you know that they keep staring at your legs?”
“What?” I didn’t think my blush could grow deeper, but I’m sure it just did.
“You’re always wearing those leggings and guys notice shit like that. I know from the fact that some of them pass by the ballet classroom just so they can take a peek when you girls are doing your stretching stuff.”
“That’s gross! Don’t tell me you’re doing that too.”
Mason looks away guiltily.
“You’re awful! And then I’m the one spying on you? Are you serious right now?”
His brown eyes sparkle with mischief when they meet mine. “Well, I never said I didn’t spy right back, now did I?”
“No.” I suck in a breath, just now realizing how close we are to each other. His jacket brushing against mine, the tips of our toes touching. “You didn’t.”
We stand like that, just looking at each other. I can feel his warm breath touch my chilly cheeks, the brush of it against my skin making me shiver.
Then, just as quickly as it started, the moment is gone. Mason pulls back, starts rubbing the back of his head, only to realize he’s still wearing the beanie so he lets his hand fall by his side.
“You want to skate?” he asks finally, breaking the silence.
“S-sure.” My answer comes out shaky, but he either doesn’t notice it or doesn’t want to comment.
It doesn’t take us long to rent skates and change, and in no time we’re out on the ice. The holiday music is playing, bright lights illuminating the dark sky and ice, creating a postcard-worthy picture.
I look over my shoulder, expecting to find Mason struggling behind me, but he’s as graceful on the ice as when he’s out on the court.
“Basketball and ice skating?” I lift my brows.
“Don’t expect any fancy moves, but I can keep my balance okay.”
“Well, damn, and here I expected to see you twirling around like a pro.”
“Are you teasing me, Legs?” There is mischief shining in his eyes.
“Ma—”
I don’t get to finish because somebody shoves me away, making me lose my balance and stumble forward.
My eyes fall shut as I try to struggle against gravity, although I know it’s a losing battle. I’m prepared to fall, but I never reach the ground.
My head jerks up, only to find Mason standing next to me, his hands preventing me from faceplanting.
He helps steady me, but even then he doesn’t let go of my hand. The gloves cover both of our hands, a firm barrier from feeling his skin against mine, yet I can still feel the warmth of his hand enveloping mine.
Mason tsks. “If you wanted me to hold your hand all you had to do was ask.”
My mouth opens in surprise, but no words come out.
“C’mon.” Mason tugs at my hand and we’re skating once again.
For a while it’s the only thing we do—skate, in silence. Snow slowly starts to fall from the sky, giving the night even more of a magical feel.
Mason is the first to break the silence, asking about ballet, which leads to a conversation about my family. He keeps asking questions, so I tell him about how I started going to the center and why I decided to keep coming even after J.D. and Sienna came into my life.
It’s another half an hour before they tell us that our time is up and we have to get out.
“How about some hot chocolate?” he asks as we unlace our skates.
“I’m always down for hot chocolate.”
After returning the skates, we join the line in front of the stand that sells hot beverages. Although I’m dressed warmly, the cool night air is sneaking under all the layers. Hot chocolate should help, since I’m not ready to call it a night just yet. Thankfully, the line moves relatively fast so it’s our turn in no time.
“Two large hot chocolates,” Mason says and looks at me.
“One with extra marshmallows, please,” I supply.
He rolls his eyes. “One with extra marshmallows, one regular.”
“You’re so boring. Who drinks regular hot chocolate?”
“Umm… a lot of people?”
“A lot of boring people.”
I offer to pay, but Mason gives me a glare that rivals J.D.’s, so I shut up and let him pay.
“Let’s keep walking to stay warm?” I suggest as we pick up our steaming cups. I bring it closer to my face to warm my chilly cheeks.
“Are you cold?” There is worry in Mason’s voice as he takes me in.
“I’m fine,” I reassure him. “But I think it’ll be better if we keep on walking.”
We talk about his spying friends and basketball as we walk through the park. He tells me about a basketball camp he’s hoping to get into over the summer, and my heart aches at the idea of not seeing him for weeks, although a bigger part is happy for him. Mason is so talented, it would be a shame if more people didn’t see him play.
“Let’s take a picture,” I say when I see one of those cartoon standees with holes instead of faces. It’s silly, but he doesn’t protest. Instead he lets me drag him there, each of us taking one snowman. He takes my phone and directs it at us, snapping a few photos, before we move, letting a family take their turn.
Next on the path is an elf village. We stroll through, and Mason doesn’t give me shit when I stop to check something out on one of the stands.
“These look pretty.” I point at some leather bracelets, each one having a different charm interlaced with the leather strings. “Oh look, they have ballet slippers! And a basketball.” Without thinking I snatch the two and hand them to the saleswoman. “Can I get these?”
She smiles warmly at me. “Sure thing, hon.”
She takes them and puts them each in a little bag. Before I can even get my wallet out, Mason’s hand shoots from over my shoulder, handing the woman a bill.
I turn around and find him standing right behind me. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he says and shrugs, and if I didn’t know better I’d think he’s embarrassed about it. I stare at him until the woman gets back, giving us the bags and change.
Moving out of the crowd, I stop and open the bag, letting the leather band slip onto my palm. “Gimme your hand.”
Mason obeys. I tug down his glove and push up the sleeve of his jacket so I can put the bracelet on. My fingers skim over his soft, warm skin.
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks, chuckling once I tie the bracelet on his wrist.
“Nope, that’s the right one.” I offer him the other one, the one with the basketball, extending my hand toward him. “Can you put this on?”