Page 67 of Shane

A ballad plays on the speaker system. It’s Whitney Houston, the same one I can never remember the name of, but it reminds Shane of his father. I can tell by the look on his face that he wants to couple skate.

“Can we break rule two?” he asks me, reaching his hand for mine.

“I can make an exception,” I say softly. “No one’s here.”

We skate side by side in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the rhythm of the ice beneath us. It's surprisingly peaceful, and I find myself relaxing in Shane's hold on me, something I never thought I'd do.

“Why’d you stop skating?” Shane asks after a while, breaking the silence.

“The rink closed due to budget cuts, and I guess I didn’t miss it enough to search out another one,” I admit, looking down at the ice. “It’s a shame really. Skating used to be my escape. I thought you’d understand.”

"I do," he says softly. "I get it more than you know."

We continue skating, with few words spoken. His eyes never leave mine, his presence a comforting anchor. After a while, he looks at me, his expression serious. "I wanted to talk to you about something.”

"Shane, I—" I start, but he holds up a hand to stop me.

"Let me finish," he says. "I know I've been pushing you, and maybe that's not fair. But I've always felt this… connection with you. Even when we're fighting, it's there. And I don't think that’s going to stop if our parents end up together.”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “We’re friends with benefits who are in a common alliance.”

"I know," he says, taking my hand in his. "But maybe we can figure out how to be more.”

I look into his eyes and see something there that makes me want to believe him. Maybe this could work. Maybe we can figure it out.

“There are dozens of girls fighting for the chance to be more with you.”

“When will you accept the truth of us, Kennedy? I don’t care about any of those girls.”

We skate together until the rink lights start to dim, Clark’s signal that it’s the end of our time. As we step off the ice and start unlacing our skates, Shane looks over at me, a playful glint in his eye.

"So, when are we doing this again?" he asks.

“I don’t know,” I laugh, shrugging my shoulders. “You said it yourself. You rarely have free time like this."

Our feet hit the cold concrete floor, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret that the evening is coming to an end. As we leave the rink and step into the crisp night air, Shane wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “This was fun, Prez.”

“It was.”

“Do you want to hang at the house tonight?”

“I think I should go home. I have a test to study for.”

“Your devotion to your classes never ceases to amaze me,” he quips.

“It’s a good thing I do. We would never gotten through freshman seminar without it.”

“Yeah, Lorenzo and I were pretty much dead weight.”

“Speaking of Lorenzo, that guy barely speaks to me now.”

“And your feelings are hurt?” His eyebrows scrunch together.

“I’m just wondering what I ever did to him.”

Shane has an odd look of guilt on his face.

“Do you know something?”