《Street Girl》24 | elliot

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"On a date, remember?"

We hop off the bus and land downtown, snow sprinkling over our heads like we're inside a snowglobe. I'm trying to play it cool, but my thoughts buzz in my head at a million miles a minute, a rapid cycle of: We won, but then they took pictures of me, and what if I look stupid in the video? Because when the reporter talked to me, I completely froze up. But we won. We wiped the floor with those guys. And now I'm taking Lucy on our first official date. Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

"I'm serious, El, where are we going?"

"The Christmas market. It's only open for one more night, and I want you to try their white hot chocolate."

Dots of silver and gold glow on every pine tree coated in white. A choir sings under the shelter of a plastic manger, and booths line the pathway through the park. We stop at one, and I hand Lucy a paper cup of hot chocolate piled with marshmallows.

"Wow," she says, "this is even better than yours."

"A challenge, huh? I'll have to try harder next time."

We continue down the path, stopping to check out ornaments and ice sculptures, and nervousness crawls through me. By now, Lucy knows so much about me, but I still know next to nothing about her. So, she likes hot chocolate. Board games annoy her. She can't skate. Somehow none of that really matters when I ask myself where she came from.

Lucy holds her drink in both hands and takes tiny sips. We're passing under a giant reef when I build up the courage to speak. "Hey, so, listen... there's something I kinda wanna ask you."

"Yeah?"

"I guess it's more of a general thing. I want to know more about... you, Lucy. Like where you came from. And how you ended up between places."

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She stiffens.

"It's just, you've been staying with me for a few days now—and it's fucking awesome, I love having you around—but I still barely know you."

After an agonizing moment of silence, she says, "Some things are hard to talk about, El."

"But you can talk to me, you know. About anything."

More silence. Lucy breathes in the steam from her cup, her eyes focused on the cement path beneath us. "The thing is, when you've done the things I've done, and been through the things I've been through, people tend to look at you different. And I like the way you look at me now, El."

"But what does that mean? If you think I'll judge you, I won't. It's not about what you've done or whatever, it's just about knowing you better."

Finally, she smiles. "I'll tell you. But not tonight, okay? I thought you were taking me on a date or something?"

It's disappointing, but she's right. Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. "Okay, sorry. After the hot chocolate, my next mission is this: you're gonna learn how to skate."

"Oh am I now?"

Thankfully the park does rentals. I have my hockey skates, and Lucy gets figure skates she says are way too tight.

"We'll both get blisters then," I say, leading her toward the center of the park. Couples circle the rink and hold each other's hands, so I take Lucy's as we step onto the ice. She slides and nearly falls, but I catch her.

"You better not let go of me," she mutters.

"Never." With our arms linked, I guide her around the rink until she gets the hang of it. "There, see? It's not so hard."

"Says the pro. If you drop me, I'll fall right on my ass."

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"Don't worry." We skate in silence for a while, before I tell her, "By the way, I wanted to say thanks."

"For what?"

"For being here. For staying with me. I honestly don't think I would've helped win tonight's game if it wasn't for you."

"But you're so good at it. You don't need good luck charms."

"Trust me, I do. Things with hockey haven't been smooth lately, even though this is the most important season of my life. It's just that sometimes I feel tired for no reason at all, but when you're around it's so easy to be happy. If you weren't here, the friend breakup with Katie would've distracted my playing and we probably would've lost. But I don't even care about her anymore. I'm just happy I have you."

She's silent. Shit, maybe that was too sappy. But then she says, "You make me happy too, El."

I take both her hands. In the center of the rink, we face each other. Snowflakes rest on her eyelashes, and she blinks them out. Her eyes flick across my lips, so I brush her cheek with my thumb even though it's ice cold. When she traces her fingers up my jacket to the neck of my shirt, my breath catches in my throat—then she leans up on her skates and kisses me. I kiss her back, but I'm so bad at this and God, what if I disappoint her? But she tastes sweet, like white hot chocolate, and she smells like my shampoo. Her lips are soft and intoxicating and the heat burning through me is lava. I've never felt this before, but I want more of her—kissing isn't enough. When I dig my fingers into her hair, she breathlessly pulls away, and the look in her eyes drives me wild.

"Um, El," she mumbles.

"Yeah?"

"People are staring."

I laugh and press my forehead to hers. "Right. We're in public."

She quickly kisses me again. "Come on. Let's go home."

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