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There's nothing quite like it to be honest- the way a skate cuts across the ice. Especially the first skate in the morning, when the ice is perfect and still. The air is cold and crisp but thanks to the physical exertion, you've never felt cold.
When your mom put you into skating at the age of five, everyone called her crazy. They kept telling her you were too young and how dangerous ice skating was. Nonetheless, you fell in love with your very first lesson. Even as a toddler, you would rub the blisters on your feet with a huge smile plastered across your lips.
Thankfully, your mom wasn't fully insane. She never put you on a diet or made you look a certain way. She also never forced you to skate a single day in your life. You did it because being out on the ice was the only thing in the world that made you happy.
Until you met him.
Billy Hargrove was the opposite of anyone you hung around in school; he was cocky, rude, and criminally good looking. And you would have never met him if you hadn't run at him running full speed out of the school building.
Your converse smacked against the ground as the bag on your back bounced as you ran. Open skate would only last two more hours, which meant your time was dwindling and quickly. Mrs. Lawrence had stopped you right after the last bell to discuss your physics homework, which put you behind your normal schedule by almost half an hour. Usually by that time of the day, you had already laced up your skates and were heading out onto the rink.
Pushing the double doors open, you ran straight into a solid body. The speed at which you were running sent both of you spiraling to the ground with shouts of shock. Groaning as you hit the side of the building roughly, you sat up on the ground with your head in your hands. Throbbing hit every crevasse of your brain, the pounding seeming never ending.
"What the fuck?" the guy yelled, quickly standing to his feet.
"Hey, Ice Princess," the other guys smirked, his dirty shoes only a foot away from you as he inched closer.
The blond boy who had been knocked to the ground looked between you and the other guy as he dusted off his clothes.
Sighing, you pulled yourself up with the support of the wall. Leaning down to pick up the forlorn bag on the ground, you felt the muscles in your arm spasm in pain.
"Shit," you seethed, angry at yourself for being in such a rush. If anyone found out about your injuries, no matter how minor, they wouldn't let you into the rink.
"What's your deal?" the blond boy asked, his voice softer this time. Still, his eyes were in slits as he stared at you.
"I'm sorry," you rushed out. In everything running through your head, you completely forgot that it was your fault that both of you had hit the ground so roughly. "I didn't see you behind the door."
