Page 43 of Pinkie Promise

“You ever skated before?” I ask, as she squeals and grips her arms tightly around my neck.

“No, I haven’t! Oh God, please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me.”

I take one look at her face and realise that I have massively fucked up.

I stop still in the centre of the rink, thanking God that Benson isn’t here or he would have my fucking balls for bringing her on the ice without skates.

“Fallon, I’m sorry – look at me. Are you scared of being on the ice? I’ll take you back to the edge, just keep a tight hold, okay?”

“It’s not that,” she says, her voice a scared whisper. “It’s just… you’re carrying me… and… I don’t want to be dropped again.”

I remain completely still, looking at Fallon’s eyes that are squeezed tightly shut. I move the hand that I had in her hair so that it’s cupping her flushed pink cheek and she whimpers, the crease between her eyebrows knotting deeper.

“What do you mean ‘dropped again’?” I ask her slowly. She drops her forehead to my neck and doesn’t respond for a full minute. I feel guilty as shit.

I slide my hand around to the back of her neck and murmur, “Fallon, I’m not gonna drop you. Do you want me to take you to the edge? Can I skate us over there?”

I caress her pulse-point and hold her more firmly against my abs.

After another thirty seconds pass she finally whispers against my skin, “Are you sure that you’re not gonna drop me?”

It’s been a long time since I’ve even slipped on the ice but accidents can happen at any time. I brace my legs and tilt her head back with my palm, looking down at her beautiful face.

“Fallon, I would never let you fall. If there’s even the slightest chance that we’re going down, I promise you that you’ll be the one on top.”

“You promise?” she asks me, and I grip one of her wrists, pulling it away from my shoulders so that it’s nestled right between my pecs. I unleash my own hand from the back of her neck and then lock my pinkie tight around hers, savouring the way that her body relaxes further into mine.

“I promise.”

She nods her head but I can tell that she’s still nervous. I carefully push off from my position and drag her hips higher up my front.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” I instruct her, and she does what she’s told, her arm still compressed securely against my chest. She flattens her palm against one of my pecs and then looks over her shoulder so that she can watch as we glide.

“I should’ve asked before I got you up on here,” I murmur, pissed at myself.

“I’m being a little baby,” she whispers back, cute and teasing, but there’s a tremor in her voice that has my heart clenching painfully.

“Why’d you think that I was gonna drop you? You’re a cheerleader. Surely you–”

And then this time I pause on the ice for another reason entirely. The memory of her down on her ass as she scowled up at me in the sports building over a month ago.

If I end up getting another concussion I am seriously going to lose my shit.

“Did someone drop you?” I suddenly ask her, leaning back so that I can look deep into her eyes. “Did one of your teammates drop you?”

She tries to hide her face but I get a hold of her chin so that she has no choice but to give me that stubborn pout. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she whispers sulkily.

Someone fuckingdroppedher? That’s how she got a concussion?

Wait. That’s how she gotmultipleconcussions?

“Fallon–”

She presses her lips to mine and the whole world instantly stops. She’s warm and tiny and soft, and tasting so sweet that I groan against her mouth. I moan her name as I take us to the edge of the rink, trailing kisses down her cheek and inhaling her deeply.

“Good fuckin’ distraction,” I murmur against her neck and a light laugh shakes her body, a small smile in her voice.

“I’ll tell you everything at your party,” she whispers, and relief settles low in my body.

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