Page 1 of Short Stack 3

Skating

This was written for my Facebook readers’ group as part of a group celebration. It’s set just afterRule Breaker.

Gabe

“Why are we doing this again?” I ask as Dylan kneels at my feet. I want to say it’s for raunchy reasons, but unfortunately, it’s very far from that.

“Because you’ve never done this before, and life is all about new experiences,” he says as he ties the laces on my ice skates.

“I’ve never vomited until I passed out, but I’m not heartbroken about that either.”

“Maybe we could kill two items off your bucket list today,” Jude says, standing with perfect balance on the ice and leaning against the barrier as if he’s at the bar in a pub. “You can fall, get a concussion, and then vomit to your heart’s content.”

“Jude!” Dylan snaps. “Gabe is not going to be concussed.”

“And how do you know that?” I ask, which, in my opinion, is a reasonable question.

He grins up at me. “Because I’m here, of course.”

“So, I can fall on you? You’re the crash mattress.”

“I’m sure that’s been written on a toilet wall in one of our old stomping grounds,” Jude muses.

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Well, not by any ofyourconquests. Most of them couldn’t remember their own names by closing time.”

Jude looks contemplative. “That’s true. Do you remember the Brighton weekend? I wouldn’t want to repeat that experience in this lifetime.”

They both shudder, and I clear my throat. “I hate to interrupt this charming trip down memory lane, but do you think we can concentrate on my imminent death by ice skates?” I waggle my feet. “And why are you doing up my laces? I’ve been doing that perfectly well for a number of years.” I grimace. “But rarely with skates that have been worn by most of North London.”

“We’re going to have a good time,” Dylan says, standing up with an evangelical look on his face.

“I’m sure you will. I will either be concussed, have a vein slit open by a passing ice skate blade, or develop a verruca caught from one of the many occupants of these skates.”

“How do youlivewith this positivity all the time?” Jude marvels.

Dylan points a finger at me. It’s bossy and always, without fail, makes my cock twitch. “You will be fine. I’ve never lost a man yet. So, I’m going out on the ice with you, and I’m coming back with you intact.”

“Wow!” Jude breathes. “That was like an Oscar-winning film moment.”

Dylan grins. “Really?” The idiot who calls himself Dylan’s best friend nods, and my boyfriend preens. “Who would play me, Jude? I think probably Tom Hardy.”

“Only if his career had crashed and burned beyond recognition. The two of you would be better with Laurel and Hardy,” I say, and he shoves me, laughing.

“I’m giving Asa a run for his money. He’ll be making me his acting coach.”

“Why am I hearing my name mentioned, and why do I feel so wary?” Asa enquires after skating up to us and coming to a rather flashy stop. Some girls nearby nearly come off their skates staring at him.

“Experience,” I inform him. “Why are you so fucking good on skates? You’re tall. Surely it sets off your balance?”

He shrugs. “I had to do it for a part in a film.”

“Were you playing an ice skate?” Jude enquires, and he and Asa snort like a couple of twats.

“Whydid I ignore the option of becoming an actor and choose to be a lawyer?” I gripe. “The only thing I have to show for it is being an actual lawyer.”

“Well, it pays the bills,” Dylan says with a very pragmatic air.

“Where are Henry and Ivo?” I ask. “Why aren’t they here to see my humiliation?”

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