Ross Lynch Imagines

Ice Skating

A long line of people stripped around the corner, all waiting patiently and impatiently to get their skates and go out on the ice to actually skate.

You slid your white, furry gloves on your clammy hands, feeling awfully nervous. You scanned the people around you, also waiting in line, seeing folks of all ages. From ages five to sixty. If a five year old can ice skate, doesn't it mean you can, too? Besides, it can't be that bad...right?

"What are you thinking about?" A gentle, deep voice came from behind you. You looked up, meeting the soft honey eyes that belonged to Ross Lynch. After a few months of being friends, he finally confessed his romantic feelings to you and asked you out on date—which you are currently on.

When Ross picked you up at your house quarter to seven, he hadn't exactly told you what he had planned for this date. And when he pulled in the parking lot of Ditzy's Ice Rink, your nerves instantly turned on.
He was taking you ice skating for the first date. Ice skating. Now, ice skating isn't horrible or anything...it's just you've never done it before. Which means you have no idea how you are going to balance on skates without tumbling to the ground and making a fool of yourself.

"You seem...anxious," Ross adds. "You've skated before, right?"

"Oh yeah," you waved it off, like it was a pathetic question to ask. But inside you were internally screaming, worried that you were going to fall on your ass in front of your date. What a great first impression on the FIRST date. "I love ice skating—what about you?" You perked up at the chance to change the subject.

"Plenty times," he grins, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jean jacket with the white fluffy collar. "Remember that one time I had to leave your parents anniversary party early for ice hockey practice?"

You nodded slowly.

"Well, for ice hockey you have to know how to skate, so yeah," he chuckles awkwardly. "Um, I hope it's okay that we are doing this. Because I know it's probably lame to do this on a first date, but I couldn't think of anything. I'm sorry if you expected a big fancy dinner or a picnic under the stars, it's just—"

"Ross," you giggled, cutting off his rambling, which you found very cute about the handsome blonde. "This is perfect, alright? I wouldn't have cared if we went to In N' Out for our first date."

He looks down at his converses, the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Ross!" You gasped teasingly. "Has your mother not taught you anything on how to please a girl on the first date? Geez boy, you gotta a lot to learn."

"We don't have to go there," he lets out a nervous laugh. "I-it was a suggestion, because I thought it would be like a flashback thing. B-because we use to go there all the time on Friday's."

You rolled your eyes, shoving the dummy playfully. "I was messing with you." You say in a reassuring tone.

"Can I help who's next?" Both your heads snap up, walking towards the desk.

"Hi, two pairs of skates," Ross tells the man with a grey beard, pot belly and a yellow stain from nacho cheese on his sweater. Ross told the man his shoe size, and so did you.

The man placed Ross's hockey skates and your pearly white ones on the counter.

"Ah, here's an empty space," Ross points the unoccupied bench where you both can sit and put on the skates.

You sat down slowly, looking at the figure skates. It looked extremely complicated to put on—with all its loops and laces all tangled together.