Page 245 of Scoring the Player
“Yup. For us both,” I answer.
“Welcome to the only queer roller-skating rink in New York.” He refuses the cash I pull out. “First timers skate for free.”He reaches into his fanny pack and pulls out two rainbow wristbands. “You can rent skates over there.” He gestures with his chin as he snaps our wristbands on. “Makeup counter is that way, but if you just wanna skate, Reese over there”—he points to a guy in a gold bodysuit—“will hook you up. And you can’t miss the bar. Our milkshakes are bananas.”
“Thanks,” we both reply.
“So.” I turn to Blue. “Feeling it?”
“Fuck yeah,” he says, making me chuckle, as he pulls me toward the skate rental desk.
We’re laced up when Blue surprises me and asks the attendant how much for the feathered wings hanging in the shop.
I hand the attendant cash and then grin as Blue loses his leather coat and slides on black wings.
Damn. Between his ripped black jeans, black sweater, tats, and now wings, he’s the sexiest dark angel.
“Hello?” He waves his hand in front of my face.
“S-sorry, what?” I stammer.
“Where are your wings?” he asks.
I pull him close and plant a kiss on his lips. “Stop being so damn sexy.”
“Put your dimples away,” he warns, tugging on my bottom lip.
Whatever my face does next makes him groan and turn to the attendant. “Hey, is there a glory ho—” I laugh as my palm flies over his mouth.
“Ignore him.” I shrug off my wool coat and hand it over to the attendant, along with Blue’s leather one.
“Where are your wings?” Blue asks again as I start to skate away.
“Uh—” I turn around and pull out my wallet. “The rainbow ones, please.”
Blue wobbles on his skates as he tries to turn toward the rink.
“You’ve skated before?”
He winces, arms flailing. “Once.”
“Oh, hell yeah. This is gonna be amazing.” I smirk.
“Don’t let me fall.”
I thread my arms through each wing. “We’re definitely falling.”
He laughs. “I hate you.”
I take his hand. “Come on.”
He has a death grip on my arm by the time we get onto the floor.
Staying close to the perimeter, we skate a few laps before he turns to me, panicked, when he has to evade two women taking a time-out against the boards.
“I got you,” I tell him, despite being pretty sure I’ve lost all circulation where he’s clutching my arm. “Hey, come here.” My thigh slots between his legs as I pull him close. He’s not too afraid to let go of the wall and clasp his hands around my neck.
As if sensing my craving for one of his vampire bites, he clenches my lower lip between his teeth as his eyes glaze over.
“Hey, hotties, gold dust or eyeshadow? I have rainbow metallic colors too,” someone says.
