Two women stand upon skates at ice's precipice: just before a rink's open gate. Sophia breathes deep, slow, and with her eyes closed. She mouths something under her breath.

Not words meant for Avery, but the emotions behind them come across clear. "Are you okay?" Avery says.

Sophia's eyes snap open and she casts a wild look Avery's way. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You never been ice skating?"

"I have."

"Okay, then what's wron—"

With a huff, Sophia rolls her eyes. "Sorry, that was a lie. I haven't. Too hot down in Tennessee, you know."

Stepping onto the ice, Avery pirouettes. "Right! Why didn't I think of that? Well, It's not so hard—"

Sophia claws at the air in her wake. "Wait. Wait! I'm not ready. What if I fall?"

"Then you fall. It doesn't hurt too bad if you try to land on your butt. If you feel like you're about to—" Avery crouches and juts her arms in front of herself. "— do a squat and lean forward. Just like this."

Mimicking the motion, Sophia squats down on unsteady skates. "Yeah?"

"Exactly!" Avery straightens up and reaches out a hand. "Want some help on your first go?"

Sophia tests the tip of one skate on the ice, as if she were about to take a dip in a pool. "No. I've got it." Her foot jerks to one side. Midfall, she hooks an elbow around some nearby railing to keep herself upright.

"You sure?" Avery says.

"Yes. I just need to practice."

"Want me to wait for you? Give any advice?"

Testing her other foot to a less severe wobble, Sophia shakes her head. "Nah. Do a couple laps or something and I'll catch up. Like you said, not so hard, right?"

Weight settles in Avery's stomach. Am I being too much?

She gulps and swipes a hand through her hair. "Right. Yeah. So I'll find you in a few minutes, then?"

No reply comes. All of Sophia's attention is spent steadying her exploratory foot in anticipation of her other joining. With a puffing of her chest, she takes the plunge. Her feet immediately skitter about and she flails all her limbs. "Whoa— ah!" Eventually, she skids into the railing and folds herself over. "Good god."

Avery has to pry her feet out of the ice. There's something horrific yet beautiful about the moment: a kind of grotesque grace. Sophia's stubbornness, Avery's too-strong desire to help, and all the people flowing around them.

I'll probably remember this moment forever.

She will. In excruciating detail, too. It'll be a snapshot of how unsure she feels; how Sophia's hair curls just so; and the passing murmur of a couple's weekend plans. Bowling.

Smiling, Avery kicks off and starts her first lap. Dates are supposed to be a little awkward, right?

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The minutes pass and Avery laps the rink. Five times, exactly. She can't help but count each one, precisely when she glides past the gate. Each increment feels like water flushing through her mind. Some ethereal, welcome working of brain chemistry responding to numbers going up. Like character levels at a tabletop.

Though, thanks to that, the minutes pass uncounted. Avery realizes with a start. Fuck, how long have I been going?

She casts glances about. First, to the gate and the absence of Sophia struggling nearby. Second, to the sitting area, where people don and doff skates. Not there either. Where did she go?

She left; only natural. She got sick of all this. Of you.

Avery's heart twinges. She skates a full lap around the rink. Nothing. So, she makes another loop; then another. No Sophia, still.

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It's fine. All of it is fine. I just keep missing her, is all.

Desperate, Avery skids to a stop in the rink's center, spraying a wave of ice from her skates. She cranes her neck this way and that.

There!

Clinging to the railing, Sophia pulls herself along as if in a tug of war with a giant — while wearing ice skates. She dances upon wobbling feet that skip and slide and slip.

Relief. But, only for a moment. The more Sophia struggles, the more Avery's heart pounds. She isn't enjoying herself, is she?

This was your suggestion and she hates it; way to fuck this up. Even if she didn't skip out before, she will soon. Go apologize before she hates you too much.

No. She doesn't hate me; she won't. No, I can save this.

With a few kicks, Avery propels herself forward and skids into the rink's siding — right in Sophia's path. Avery offers her a hand. "Want some help, now?"

Sophia shoots her a confused glance. Prying a hand away from the railing, she fusses with one of her hearing aids. "Huh?"

You're overreaching; you're being clingy. She going to hate you for sticking so close. Let her fend for herself.

Noise. So much contradictory noise. Avery clears her throat, as if more noise would somehow drown out her anxiety. "Ahem— sorry. Can I take your hand?"

Sophia reaches out. "Yeah, as long as— wuh!" Her feet try to buck her like a mechanical bull. She collapses back into the railing and clings to it, knuckles white. "God. As long as you don't make me fall."

More relief. Leading Sophia by the hand, Avery eases them both toward the mass of folks flowing past. "If anyone is making someone fall, it's you."

The words threaten to become reality in a split second. Legs scramble, arms flail, and Sophia crushes Avery's hand in her white-knuckled grip. "Ah! I was joking; it was a joke; don't jinx me!"

Avery lets her hand flow through the air with Sophia's chaotic movements, partly by choice and partly not.

They fall just as Avery taught.

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Skates off, socks on pavement, and asses sore. Sophia and Avery make their way through the crowd. Mostly a horde of newcomers, skates in hand.

Sifting through isn't easy. After a thorough jostling, the two women make it to their lockers. People amass behind them like vultures in anticipation of storing their own belongings away from curious eyes and hands.

Both of them are winded. Sweaty. Their foreheads glisten, glinting auburn from now-lit park lamps. It's nice: the subtle burn that accompanies each breath. Avery breathes deep and holds it, letting the warmth spread. Her thoughts move from that to butterflies to—

This isn't going to last.

Mid-exhale, her breath catches. It refuses to leave and its warmth turns acrid. Desperate. Sophia stands near, oblivious. Embers billow up Avery esophagus; tendrils wrap around her chest and squeeze.

Give up. No point in pursing this when it's all going to end, right? Soon. Maybe tonight? Tomorrow? We're not worth whatever attention she gives Us.

Insecurity as leverage, the thought pries its way into the center of Avery's mind. She places a card against her locker's sensor — a scuffed, black block bearing a near-worn pictogram: a card alongside some nebulous waves. Internal mechanisms whir and click. Did Sophia even enjoy herself? She does have better options than me, doesn't she? Someone more established. Self-sufficient.

You could ask? Maybe you should. Go ahead: do it.

Something sick slithers inside Avery's chest. She shouldn't; she can't; yet, that sickness feels absolute. Like her decision is already made. "Hey." She says.

Sophia presses herself against her own locker, forcing its stubborn, rust-covered latch to engage. "Yeah?"

"Have you worried that we're not compatible?"

"How'd that pop up?"

"Can you answer first? Then I'll say. Promise."

Using her fingers like a shoehorn, Sophia forces her feet into pre-tied shoes. "Okay, sure. Yeah. All the time. More just asking the question than anything, you know? Evaluating."

"Doesn't that scare you?"

"Why should it? Seems like a good thing to think about to me. Better now than later." Sophia pauses, bubble coat loose in her grip. She shrugs. "Eh, maybe it's a waste of time; people change. Or maybe we'll always be thinking about it.

"You owe me an answer now." She says.

Avery shoves her feet into untied shoes and, dropping to a knee, she starts tying. All the better to point her uneasy expression groundward. "Well, I— it's just— you've got everything together; I'm an outright mess. You honestly don't think about that?" Avery says, voice less stalwart than her hunched over posture.

"Nah."

"Just nah?"

Sophia slips an arm into one sleeve. "Would saying more help?"

"I don't think so, but like— ugh! I don't know. You've got a plan; you've got your job; you live on your own." Avery tightens off a pair of bunny ears. "I've got no idea what I want to do or have or be or whatever. It's all been what happens, happens. Parents say this; I do that because I was too scared to do anything else. How'd you figure your way through it all?"

There's a stretch of quiet; Another one to tweak the dials in Avery's FM radio of a mind. Introducing a subtle hum that she can't tune out, regardless of how tender she twists the dials back to their original place. She shifts her stance and works on her other shoe.

"Come back to my place." Sophia says.

Avery snaps her head up. "W-what?"

"Not like that. Well, maybe. But, I've got something to show you too."

Avery jolts upright, holding her hands aloft. "M-maybe? What— what—"

Sophia zips up her coat. "Fine, if you insist. We can do that. I'll still want to show you something after."

Ears and cheeks burning red hot, Avery stomps away. "Gah! Quit messing with me!"

Not one follows her. Back near the lockers, Sophia leans upon a locker door. Waiting. Silent.

Avery wheels around and throws up her hands. "Well? Are we going?"

"After you finishing tying your other shoe."

Looking down, it's true. Two laces dangle from Avery's foot in a half-formed knot.