Thin Ice

"I have a confession," Maya said three days later.

It was Friday night. They were at Miller’s Pond, a secluded frozen lake on the edge of town. It was the quintessential romantic setting of the novel—snow-dusted pine trees, moonlight reflecting off the ice, the distant sound of winter birds.

Liam was already laced up, gliding effortlessly backward on the uneven ice. He looked like he was born on skates.

Maya was sitting on a log, staring at the white figure skates Bella owned but had clearly never used. They were pristine.

"Confession?" Liam stopped, spraying a little snow. "Did you actually buy the cookies?"

"No, I baked them. The confession is..." Maya pointed at the skates. "I don't know how to do this. At all."

In her past life, Maya had grown up in Arizona. The only ice she saw was in a margarita. Bella, the character, was rich and poised, but the book never mentioned her actually skating.

Liam laughed. "You live in Oakridge, Minnesota. How do you not skate?"

"I'm a woman of mystery," Maya deflected. "Teach me?"

Liam’s face softened. "Come here."

He skated to the edge of the pond. He held out his gloved hands.

Maya stood up on the wobbly blades. Her ankles immediately tried to fold inward. She flailed.

Liam caught her by the waist. He was solid as a rock.

"I got you," he murmured. "Bend your knees. Lower your center of gravity."

He pulled her onto the ice.

For the first ten minutes, Maya clung to him like a barnacle. She was stiff, terrified of falling and breaking a wrist (or Bella’s perfect nose).

"Look at me," Liam commanded gently. "Don't look at your feet. Look at me."

Maya looked up. The moon made his eyes look silver. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. He was smiling—not the cocky grin he wore for the team, but a soft, private smile just for her.

"Trust me?" he asked.

"I'm trying," Maya muttered, gripping his biceps.

"I won't let you fall," Liam promised. "Glide. Just push off. One foot, then the other."

They moved slowly around the perimeter of the pond. Liam skated backward, pulling her forward. The rhythm was hypnotic. *Scrape, scrape, glide.*

"You know," Liam said after a while, his voice low. "I thought you were going to dump me on Monday."

Maya stumbled slightly. Liam steadied her.

"Why?" she asked, though she knew the answer.

"Because the Semi-Finals are huge," Liam said, looking down at their skates. "And you... the old you... you usually hated when hockey took up all my time. I thought you’d get sick of being second place to the game."

"You're not second place to anything, Liam," Maya said fiercely. "And neither am I. We can both be first."

Liam looked up, surprised by the intensity in her voice.

"I'm not going anywhere," Maya continued. "I know how this story goes, Liam. Or how it's supposed to go. And I'm telling you, the ending is happy. Okay?"

"Okay," Liam whispered.

He stopped skating. The momentum carried them into a slow spin. He leaned down and kissed her, his cold nose brushing against her cheek.

Maya kissed him back, ignoring the cold, ignoring the fact that she was twenty-five masquerading as seventeen. In that moment, on the frozen pond, the timeline didn't matter. The book didn't matter.

She was just a girl in love with a boy who smelled like winter and safety.

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