Page 52 of Icy Pucking Play

"Something like that." I lean back, staring at her ceiling. "The last time I let someone see me, really see me..."

"It didn't end well."

"That's an understatement."

We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound coming from her TV where someone is definitely about to make a terrible decision by going into a dark basement alone.

"For what it's worth," she says finally, "I'm not trying to dig up your past. I just...I care about you. About why certain things still haunt you."

The simple honesty in her voice makes my chest tight.

"I know." I look at her again. "That's what makes you dangerous."

"Me?" She laughs softly. "I'm about as dangerous as a baby penguin."

"A baby penguin who makes my daughter laugh hysterically and somehow got my sister to give her my baby pictures."

"In my defense, Julia offered those freely."

"Of course she did." I can't help my smile. "My family loves you, you know."

Something soft crosses her face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I shift slightly closer. "And I..."

A blood-curdling scream from the TV makes us both jump.

"Sorry!" Sophie grabs the remote. "I can turn it…”

"Leave it. Unless you're scared?" I give her a teasing grin.

"Please." She rolls her eyes. "I've seen this one like twelve times. Nothing scary about—HOLY SHIT!"

Another jump scare sends her practical into my lap, her hand clutching my arm.

"Not scared, huh?" I try to keep my voice steady, but having her this close is...distracting.

"Shut up." She starts to pull away, but I catch her hand.

“No,” I assert. “I want you right here next to me.”

Her breath catches. "Evan..."

“Sophie,” I warn.

She settles against me slowly, like she's afraid I might spook. "This doesn't fix everything, you know. You’re not off the hook yet."

"I know." I wrap an arm around her, drawing her closer. "But it's a start."

She nods against my chest, and something tight in my chest loosens.

We watch the movie in comfortable silence for a while, though I'm barely paying attention to the plot. I'm too focused on how perfectly she fits against me, how her fingers are absently tracing patterns on my arm, how she smells like vanilla and roses.

Another jump scare makes her burrow closer, and this time when she looks up at me, I can't help myself.

I kiss her.

She makes a soft sound against my mouth, her hands coming up to tangle in my shirt, and suddenly the movie is completely forgotten. All I can focus on is Sophie—the taste of her lips, the feel of her pressed against me, the way she sighs when I thread my fingers through her hair.

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