No Two Are Alike

07 | skating for love

When Jack asked Chloe to go skating, he hadn't considered the fact that he would actually have to — you know — skate.

He eyed the skating rink with trepidation. Families were gliding around a tall pine tree decked in red baubles and lights. The Natural History Museum towered over the ice, a riot of Gothic spires and terracotta gargoyles. A small, horse-like animal seemed to glare down at Jack disapprovingly.

You are an idiot, it said.

Jack shot it a dirty look. Stupid gargoyles. Next to him, Chloe was lacing up her skates with steady hands.

"You ready?" she chirped.

No.

"Of course," Jack lied. "I can't wait." He spotted a child teetering behind a plastic penguin with handles, and his heart lifted. "You need a penguin or anything?"

Because he did. Maybe he could steal Chloe's penguin, Jack mused. Make it look like he was jokingly skating with it. But Chloe merely rolled her eyes.

"Don't be stupid," she scoffed. "What are we, eight?"

Jack sighed.

No penguin it was, then.

They wobbled towards the ice. Jack clung to the sideboard with a vice-like grip. Screw bravery; this was life or death. Chloe shot him a bemused look.

"No offense," Chloe said, her brow quirking, "but I kind of thought you'd be better at this."

"Oh, shut-up, Cartwright."

Her eyebrows climbed even higher. "Cartwright?"

Ah. Crumbs. What did Logan normally call her again?

"Chlo-ster," Jack said quickly. "I meant Chlo-ster."

Thankfully, Chloe was distracted by the fact that they had now reached the center of the skating rink. Which was good. The part about her being distracted, of course; not Jack's imminent death, now that he had let go of the sideboard.

Jack looked wistfully at the exit.

"You know," he said, "we could always go for a pint instead."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Come on, you."

She took his hand. Jack's heart lurched. They might be wearing mittens, but he could feel Chloe's heat radiating through the wool. Her jasmine perfume hung around them like a cloud, mixing with the dirty London streets and the smell of the pine tree.

Chloe chewed her lip as they glided around the rink. She was clearly trying to work up the courage to say something. But what?

"What's your favourite color?" she blurted.

"I—what?"

"Your favourite color," Chloe repeated, her cheeks flushing.

Oh, no. Was this a test of some sort? Jack wracked his brains, desperately sorting through everything he knew about his brother. Red? No. Logan was traumatized after being sunburned in Monaco as a child. Purple? Blue?

"Green!" Jack said, triumphant. "It's green!"

Chloe deflated slightly. "Oh."

"What?"

"No, nothing." Chloe waved him off. "I was just curious." She swiveled so that she was facing backwards. Bloody show-off. "What's your favourite band?"

This one was easier; Logan played the music on an endless loop in his car. It drove Jack absolutely mad.

"OneDirection," Jack said, and Chloe stared at him.