Page 83 of Tell Me It’s Right

“Are you saying I’m child-sized?”

“Your elbows are!” Fletcher declares as he attaches the Velcro.

I take the rest of the pads from him to put on myself. They’re all too tight, but it’ll work.

“Feel better?” asks Liam.

“Yes,” I admit. “Do I look ridiculous?”

“Not at all,” says Fletcher.

“There’s still no way in hell I’m doing that.” I point at the pit of doom he previously calledthe bowl.

“Oh no. We never do that on the first day.”

“Fletch,” says Liam.

“Right.” He pats Liam on the back and waves before grabbing his board and heading for the opposite side of the park. “I’ll be over here if you need me!”

I reclip my helmet, and Liam offers his hands. With a dramatic sigh, I take them and step onto the board.

“You’ll be a pro in no time,” he assures me.

“Uh-huh.”

“Flat surfaces only—just get used to shifting your weight and moving around.”

I kick off, and he takes a step back to give me room. In a moment of panic, I tighten my hands around his, and he holds mine just as tightly.

“I’m not letting go until you tell me to,” he says quietly.

After a few minutes of back and forth on the pavement, the sheer terror of it all subsides, and I try on my own a few times. Turning around feels completely out of the question, but I do manage to subtly serpentine. Every time I step off the board and look back at Liam, he’s beaming like I just did the most impressive trick he’s ever seen.

Eventually, Liam’s the one to call it for the day, and I’m almost a little sad.

“I’ll get them back to Fletch later,” he says as he helps me remove all the pads.

“This was…fun,” I mutter as I slip the helmet off and hand it to him.

He grins. “Yeah?”

“Terrifying.”

“Of course.”

“But fun.”

That grin remains fully stretched across his face the entire walk to his truck. He offers a hand to hold my things as I climb in. It doesn’t occur to me until I’m seated and buckled with the door shut what a bad idea that was.

Liam climbs into the driver’s side and turns the book over in his hands, his eyebrows high as he reads the description.

“Give it back,” I sigh.

“No figure skaters,” he muses.

“Liam.”

“Am I reading this right? He’s adragon? How does that work? Logistically?”

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