We stepped through the opening in the boards onto the ice. A few other people were out, enjoying the evening on skates. Romantic music was playing over a loudspeaker in the corner. The snow had stopped, and the air felt almost warm, with no wind.
“I read about it in the paper,” he said. “I knew it was open ‘til midnight on the weekends, through February.”
“You mean, we can come back?” I asked, looking around at the bright lights of downtown St. Paul, the cathedral up on the hill and the Capitol building.
“That depends,” Conor said.
“On what?” I asked.
“Whether you’re staying or not.” He reached for my hand as we circled the far end of the rink. “And don’t shove me when I say this, but I want you to.”
“Really?” I asked. “Because I want to, too.” I blushed as I heard myself say, “tutu.”
Conor’s hand was warm and strong. I stuck my right hand into my pocket to keep it warm—I hadn’t brought any mittens. In my jacket pocket, though, I felt something woolly. “Ooh! My hat!” I cried.
Conor and I glided to a stop. (Okay, he glided to a stop. Then he stopped me.) “Wait. I’ll put it on for you,” he offered. “I wouldn’t want to mess up your hair. It looks really pretty tonight.”
“That’s the, uh, glitter,” I said as Conor took the hat from me. He gently stretched it so that it fit over my head, and he pulled it down to my ears. We stared into each other’s eyes for a second. I’m going to kiss him, I thought. I’m totally about to kiss him.
But then he slid backward a little bit, out of my reach, and took off his scarf. “Here. This will keep you warmer.” He came closer again, and looped it around my neck. He pulled both ends into a knot at my neck, and just before he finished I put my hands over his.
He made one final, little tug to pull the scarf tightly, and as he did, my skates slid toward him—and we ended up nose to nose.
“Sorry, I—I’m all out of wool items,” Conor stammered as he caught me.
Before he could say anything else, I kissed him. I didn’t care that we were in the center of the rink, that we were probably the only people left, that the spotlight might be on us, that the music had stopped and they were about to close. Conor put his hand on my cheek, and gently moved a strand of my hair off to the side as he leaned into the kiss.
Kissing Conor wasn’t like anyone else I’d ever kissed before. I could easily have gone weak in the knees, except that I didn’t want to fall on the ice in my party dress—not now, anyway. I might miss something.
The spotlights flashed a couple of times, and we broke apart, laughing. “Does that mean they don’t approve?” I said, as Conor leaned over and gave me a kiss on the neck.
“Five minutes, people, five minutes,” the skate rental person announced over the loudspeaker. “Closing in five minutes.”
“Wow. Is it midnight already?” I asked. “We should go. But first…what are you doing on Thursday?” I asked as we started skating over to the benches.
“I don’t know,” Conor said. “I think I have to work.”
“Well, too bad, because you’re coming away with me.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really,” I said. “Please?”
“Oh, okay. If I have to. But wait. Am I just going to show up some old boyfriend or something?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Too bad, because I could really get into that.”
“Well, whatever suits you,” I said. As I was stepping off the ice, I stopped for a second and leaned back against him. He kissed the back of my neck, but surprisingly, it didn’t freeze on contact.
“You know what? You’re shivering,” he said as he wrapped his arms more tightly around me, trying to keep me warm.
I wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold, or from what had just happened. “I think my toes got a little frozen, that’s all,” I said.
“I know a place we can go where it’s really warm,” Conor said. “The bakery.”
I couldn’t get those silly blue rental skates off fast enough. Besides, they really did kill my outfit.
Chapter 20
I tiptoed into the house, holding my stiletto-heeled shoes, and wearing Conor’s wool socks over my stockings. I was carrying a little bag from the bakery, with a few donuts for Brett.
I closed the door as quietly as I could. I was hoping I could sneak upstairs—Gretchen would no doubt have gone to sleep hours ago.
But when I turned around, I saw a light on in the kitchen, and both Sean and Gretchen—even on crutches—jumped up when they saw me.
Bear started to bark when he saw me, and he raced and jumped on me, nearly knocking me over. I dropped the bag of donuts and he was on top of that immediately, but I managed to get them away from him.
“Is Brett up, too?” I joked as I shrugged out of my jacket.
“No, he’s asleep, but we stayed up half the night worrying about you!” Gretchen said.
“What?” I asked.
“I was worried sick about you,” she said. She stared at the socks on my feet. I hoped she wouldn’t ask me about them. I noticed tear stains on her cheeks and felt this sudden stab of very, very intense guilt. You always called. That was our parents’ mantra.
“So was I,” Sean said. “Are you okay?”
I laughed, trying to break the tension. “You were worried? I’m sorry.”
“It’s not funny, Kirsten.” Gretchen sank back down at the kitchen table. “You should have called.”
“Yes. Okay, I probably should have,” I said to Gretchen. “But I didn’t bring my phone. It wouldn’t fit into my purse, remember?”
“Well, I figured that out after I called it five times and I kept hearing this ringing coming from your room,” she said angrily. “How could you not bring your phone?”
“You’re the one who told me I wouldn’t need it—you’re the one who said I should bring this itty-bitty useless purse.” I slammed it down on the counter. Why was she treating me like a twelve-year-old?
“I’m responsible for you when you’re here,” she said. “if you didn’t make it home, I’d have to call Mom and Dad and tell them you were missing, and—”
“Gretchen, don’t you know me well enough to know I can take care of myself?” I asked.
“Someone told me you ran out of the party by yourself. Why did you do that?” Sean asked. “I kept trying to find you.”
“I’m sorry, Sean. Really. I left because…I just wasn’t having a very good time. And you were, and I didn’t want to ruin that, so…”
“How did you get here? Did you walk all the way?” Sean asked. “That’s like ten miles.”
So he hadn’t noticed that Conor and I left at the same time. Didn’t he have a clue that the only other person I really knew here was Conor? He could be so slow sometimes.
“Actually, Sean…I know this is going to sound bad. And I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything,” I said. “But Conor and I sort of, well, took off together. He gave me a ride home.”
“Are you serious?” Gretchen screamed, pounding the table with her fist.
“Shh! Brett’s sleeping. Anyway, what? I thought you’d be glad I was safe,” I said.
“Wait a second. You and Conor?” Sean looked a little exhausted, as he stood under the fluorescent overhead light, his tie hanging loosely from his collar, his suit jacket unbuttoned. “Since when?”
“Since…I don’t know,” I said. “Tonight?”
“Oh.” Sean sighed. “Well, I just wish you’d told me. I spent half the night looking for you.”