Page 125 of A Little Broken

TATUM

After going to the bathroom, I wash my hands, then head back outside, finding Paxton leaning against the edge of the open doors leading outside. My breath catches in my lungs as the moonlight shines around him, making him look even more like a Greek god than he normally does.

Forcing my feet to move, I walk toward him. “Hey, is the concert over?”

He nods. “Yeah. We’re just chillin’.”

“Awesome.”

“So, what’d you think?” he prods, reminding me of a shy little boy in need of approval. It only makes me fall for him more.

“What did I think?” I fold my arms to try to focus on the concert part and not his thoughtfulness behind it. “I can’t believe you convinced Doomsday to come play.”

“I owed you an introduction, remember?”

I nod. “Well, yeah. But still, that was insane.”

“Just wait ‘til you meet him.” Pax offers me his hand, and I stare at it, surprised by the memory it sparks and how hard it hits out of nowhere.

“I hate ice skating,” I mutter.

“Aw, but you’re so good at it,” my mom gushes.

“No, I’m not. Ophelia’s?—”

“Don’t compare yourself.” She reaches down and adjusts the fluffy pink hat on my head. “You are you, and Lia is Lia, remember?”

I look down at Lia’s hand-me-down skates covering my feet. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Good girl. Do you want my help or would you rather?—”

“I got it.”

With a nod, she stands. “Stay close to the wall, okay?”

My head dips as I take a deep breath, peeking up to find my mom skating toward my dad and their friends at the center of the rink. Sometimes, after the hockey games, the arena opens to the public for ice skating. Everyone loves it. Everyone but me.

Clinging to the side barrier, my fingers dig into the tiny lip beneath the glass as I shuffle along the ice. I wish I could just sit on the bench with my book, but noooo. Stupid ice skating. Someone zooms past, and my body stifffens, preparing to be tackled or knocked on my bum, when another person stops beside me.

“Hey, Tater Tot.”

I glance up at Archer, giving him a weak smile. “Hey.”

“You doin’ okay?”

My attention shifts to the skating maniac who almost made me fall. It’s Maverick. Of course, it’s Maverick. He’s chasing after Ophelia, and she’s screaming at him to go away. My parents aren’t even bothering to intervene. Why would they? Mav driving Ophelia nuts is more common than the two playing nicely most days.

Would’ve been nice if he didn’t almost knock me over in the process, though.

“Sorry about Mav,” Archer adds, following my line of sight.

“It’s fine.”

“He didn’t bump you, did he?”

I shake my head.

“Good.” Offering his hand, he adds, “Want me to help?”

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