Page 59 of Perfect Score

I glance down too, her hands still in mine as I hold her up.

“Then these are the right size.”

“Thank you,” she says.

She looks back up at me, her eyes sparkling back.

Is she feeling this, too?

Out of the corner of my eye, I feel someone’s eyes on us.

I look over to my left toward the rink to find Liam with a “don’t touch my girl” look on his face. Luckily, Zoey isn’t his—not anymore, and he had his chance last night to change that.

He and Shelby get up and walk toward the doors that lead to the rink.

I grab the other set of skates and take them back to the attendant.

I head back over to where she’s waiting for me, and then we start walking toward the double doors that lead out to the climate-controlled ice rink.

Her steps are clunky, and I smile at myself as she grips around my arm to help keep herself stable.

She’s not used to walking in skates, and it’s fucking cute as shit.

“What are you nervous about?”

I pull open one of the rink’s doors and let her go through first and then I follow.

“Falling on my butt.” She chuckles.

“I won’t let you fall,” I say back, stopping in the frame of the ice rink.

“You promise?” she asks.

I tighten my hand around hers as she stares up at me. I can see the trust in her eyes, and I never want to lose that again.

“I promise.”

We get to the opening of the ice rink, and my muscles ache to push out on the ice. I step out onto the ice and listen for the sound of the ice cracking under my blade.

“Hey, Brent…!” I hear a voice out on the ice.

It’s Phoebe’s.

A large group of family and friends are also out on the ice.

“Look up,” she yells again.

I crane my neck to see what Phoebe is talking about, and so does Zoey.

Mistletoe.

Tied together by the red Christmas bow and hanging just above our heads.

I glance back out to the rink and see that everyone’s skating in circles but watching Zoey and me. There are smiles on everyone’s faces… except for Zoey’s dad. Her parents are holding hands and skating behind Phoebe and David.

Zoey’s dad hasn’t liked me since I stood his daughter up during prom. I don’t blame him for that. I’d hate the punk-ass kid who did my daughter wrong, too. But in that case, he should really hate Liam.

I glance down at Zoey to find her staring at the mistletoe above us.

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