It was just about an hour after noon, having finished lunch, they decided to go ice skating. Not that ice skating is something usual for both of them. She had never, ever, skated on ice. She had no idea how good her companion was with skates, all she knew was that he knew how, and he knew enough to teach her. Right at that moment, it was all she needed to believe and take the risk to try something new.
She soon found herself (stupidly) stomping around with her skates, holding tight to him. The moment she entered the rink, she went shaking. The rink was cold, and his hands were warm. Was it just her, or was it too cold? Maybe it was cold, maybe she was nervous.
And then there was the dilemma of pulling away from the walls of the rink. She was laughing hard out of fright, and it took a while for him to convince her to let go of the wall and hold his arm instead. He was much willing to teach, and her, to learn, so despite the indecision, she took a deep breath and clung to him.
For the next few moments, she waddled, wobbled and glided. The ice was slippery, and she couldn't balance properly. His arms were there for support, and she wouldn't dare let go of his hand. After a while, she was doing it *almost* properly, but still in awkward slides and glides and steps. It was enjoyable, save for her aching feet. Not bad for her first time on ice.
After exiting the rink, her feet were sore, but she was happy. It was a dismay for her to find out that it was raining hard outside, the rain always made her sad. But not this time. The raindrops, as they're falling, tell a story about this girl who learned to skate, dared to move and surrendered to love.
And despite the coldness of the blowing breeze, huddled close with him, she had never felt so warm.
There. So much for talking in third person.
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