Page 49 of Sinful Pride

On that first date, I finally got to celebrate my promotion at the Embassy with Raphael and Beelzebub. They could understand what it meant for me to be officially forgiven by Zachariel because they were there when I took strikes of a whip for the sake of redemption. So now, when my insecurities made me insist there had to be something else going on besides them just liking me, I had those wonderful moments that highlighted how we were creating a relationship between us to go back to.

A relationship needed work from everyone in it, so this week I would be the one to organize the date for the three of us. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. Raphael’s and Beelzebub’s interests often ran in opposite directions, and fitting that with my own likes and dislikes was even harder. A neutral event like going to a good, though not too stuffy, restaurant, was an option, but I wanted to create an experience they could look back on fondly and remember it in their darker moments like I did. I had a list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough. I even asked around to get a new perspective.

“Take a cooking class together,” Zachariel suggested. “Preparing a meal can bring people closer.”

That was an interesting concept, but I didn’t want anyone else to come between us, and a cooking class would involve a chef who would guide us through the preparations, so I crossed the idea out.

“Go to a sport event with them. The more violent, the better. Football, rugby, hockey… something that gets the blood pumping. Use that to reap some benefits afterwards.” Hellion wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

I crossed that option out exactly because of the ‘benefits’. I didn’t know if either Raphael or Beelzebub were into such games, but if one of them got too excited watching the sport I didn’t really want to rush things and end up in a compromising situation. My preference was a fun, but not too exciting date.

Maybe instead of just watching a game we could do something sports-like ourselves? That’s when it clicked. An ice rink! It was perfect, especially because it wasn’t the season now and I had no trouble getting the whole rink reserved only for us. That gave us the privacy perfect for a date.

With borrowed skates on our feet, we made our way onto the rink.

Beelzebub pushed onto the fake ice confidently and immediately did a little spin. Nothing outrageously complicated, but it showed he had some experience. I went next, and the ice welcomed me. I was admittedly rusty, but I have never pursued ice skating as anything other than leisure, so that was okay.

Raphael, on the other hand, was not okay.

“Oh my God, you are like one of those baby gazelles that can’t keep their legs under them,” Beelzebub nearly bent double with laughter when he saw Raphael clinging to the banister of the rink while his legs slid from under him in opposite sides.

Alarmed, I went up to the angel and helped him steady himself.

“I guess it’s not as easy as it looks,” Raphael said, his eyes shooting daggers at the demon.

“Tens of thousands of years and you have never tried ice skating?” Beelzebub teased.

“I did, thank you very much. And I ended up on my ass, so I didn’t try again.”

“Don’t worry, I will teach you,” I assured.

“It’s not that hard. Just takes a bit of practice and falling on your ass more than once,” Beelzebub said sagely. “That kinda comes with the territory. How about I show you how it’s supposed to be done?”

The demon took off with a smirk and danced to the music coming from the speakers. He weaved through a beautiful step combination, his body lithe and limber, flowing like water. Then he jumped, his leather coat spinning and fluttering around him as he spun. I wasn’t knowledgeable about figure skating as a sport, but it looked impressive, especially when he landed flawlessly, turning the continuing movements into another figure. Body forward, leg outstretched, movement flowed into movement as the demon showed us a captivating dance, an improvised poem of motion.

I could see the joy in the way Beelzebub moved. At first, he was shooting glances at us, but as the impromptu show progressed, it turned less into a spectacle for the sake of showing off for us, and more of a joyous exploration of Beelzebub’s passion. He let himself be taken over by the moment, and when he finally slid to a stop in front of us, he was panting, a bit flushed, and visibly happy.

“Well, I don’t think I can learn all of that in just a few hours, but you have certainly proven there is beauty in dancing on ice,” Raphael complimented. “And I do like to strive towards beauty. Maybe one day I will become capable of such a feat. In the meantime, I will have to satisfy myself with observing how beautiful you two are.”

“Don’t think flattery will save you from actually stepping onto the ice,” Beelzebub shot back, but he looked pleased.

“Here, take my hands. I will move slowly backwards, and you can follow.”

Even through the customary fingerless gloves Raphael wore, I could feel the warmth of his hands in mine, even if the chill surrounding the ice rink was doing its best to steal the warmth from us.

With my guidance, Raphael took his first stumbling steps onto the ice. He wasn’t a natural at this, but between my patient teaching and Beelzebub’s teasing comments, we made progress. It bolstered Raphael’s confidence immensely when Beelzebub ate ice after a failed jump. In no time, we were making laps around the rink together, our pace slow and steady. Raphael even tried a few more advanced moves and fell on his ass only a few times. Interestingly, he discovered sliding backward was easier for him than moving forward.

At some point, Beelzebub grew bored with running around us and bowed to me, his hand extended in invitation.

“Can I have this dance?”

I left poor Raphael standing alone as I was charmed away by the dangerous figure leading me into a daring dance. I wasn’t as good as Beelzebub, but every spin and figure he led me into felt exhilarating. The way our hands stayed joined for most of the dance, and how we mirrored or complemented each other’s movements when we were apart, made me feel a visceral sort of contentment, like the satisfaction of the last puzzle sliding into place.

“My turn,” Raphael said suddenly before the song ended.

“Well, I have to see that,” Beelzebub said, transferring my hand from his own to Raphael’s.

To be fair, Raphael did the best he could, mostly using his upper body to make our connection one of dance and not just sliding around on the ice. I enjoyed his resourcefulness in the face of his limitations and the daring he had when he knew he couldn’t compare to Beelzebub and me in this. It was extremely charming.

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