Snowy Day

Cress tugged her hat over her head, slinging her ice-skates over her shoulder. Jotting a quick note to her parents, in case they came back from work before she returned, she finally slipped her gloves on and walked outside.

Cold, freezing, wonderful fresh snow, across the ground, waiting just for her! She grinned; this was the first snow of the season, and it was late this year too. Relieving, really, that it came at all.

And nothing like some recreational skating to celebrate the weather.

Not that Cress didn't like her normal ice dancing lessons and practices—quite the contrary, she loved them, and the closeness with Thorne didn't hurt—but there was something nice about knowing she didn't have to make everything perfect, that everything she tried didn't have to work out. It could be like when she first started skating: just because she liked it, not because she thought she had to get anywhere.

Humming, she found an empty seat and tied up her laces.

Today was her only day off from practice, but it wasn't strange at all that she came here.

Thorne wanted to fly, ever since he was a young child. He dreamt of it, his secret power, floating above his parents, bouncing across walls and through outer space, among the stars. Slides and swings were his best friends, and most days he played with the figurines of planes and spaceships he'd collected at garage sales over the years.

He first hit the ice at age five, when his godparents took him as a Christmas gift. When he'd first found out he'd been gifted an experience instead of a physical toy, he'd been disappointed, but as soon as they got there, he was not.

Flying. Real, fast, slippery, challenging, dangerous, dangerous, flying. And it was his, finally. Somehow falling didn't matter so much, not when he knew where he could go, where he could fly.

It was another half year before he took lessons and another three after that before his parents signed him up for ice dancing. An instructor was an old family friend, they said. They were getting a discount, saving money.

And that's how he met Cress, how he became her ice dancing partner.

How he fell in love.

Sighing, he pulled his coat over a light shirt and pants. Not perfect for skating, but not bad either. He wasn't doing anything important today, anyway. He just wanted the ice to clear his thoughts and to celebrate the first snow of the season. How unfortunate it timed itself right after Christmas. If only it'd come a day earlier...

He sent his mom and dad a text and walked out the door. Reaching the rink, he looked around while tying up his skates, heart jumping when he caught her face in his peripheral vision.

It shouldn't have surprised him, but still. Since when was Cress here as well?

Cress dominated the rink. She was poise, and beauty, and strength, and—

"Cress? Cress!"

"Thorne?" She looked over her shoulder, careful not to cut anyone off as she searched the faces outside. "Thorne!" Splitting out of a serpentine, she slid across the ice to where he was about to get on.

"I didn't know you'd be here," she said, breath puffing out before her. "But it's nice to see you! Because, you know, I don't see you every other day of the week."

Thorne laughed, punching her shoulder lightly. "Well, today's special, huh? First snow and all?"

"And no practice." Cress grinned. "That means no coach to yell at us."

"Isn't that a relief." Thorne stepped into the ice. "Well, what're we waiting for? Let's go show off."

They spun into the center, Cress smiling at the young children and ill experienced skaters still clinging to the side rail. That had been her once, though only briefly. She found that skating had as much to do with confidence as skill; if you didn't trust your ability to pull things off, you were never going to improve.

Speakers blasted pop music, a huge jump from the classical music they normally danced to. They didn't mind classical, and it had a familiarity now, after skating with it for eight years, but this music was a nice change, a free card they could do anything with.

At first, they both did their separate things, skating laps, sometimes backwards to mix it up, with the occasional race. Cress and Thorne couldn't do anything too crazy, after all, since they didn't have the rink to themselves. This one wasn't especially small, but in comparison to the size of the one they normally trained at and the current crowd, it would've been almost impossible to pull of their current routine without crashing into other skaters.

"Cress," Thorne said from behind her, an exceptionally loud song almost blocking his voice out completely. "Last one to complete ten laps buys the other coffee!"

Cress didn't like coffee, and she knew Thorne didn't either. He was probably just trying to be cool again. But instead of protesting, she nodded. "Stay outside the cones."

"Agreed."

"Start!" Cress yelled, pushing Thorne back with her hands. He returned the favor by attempting to trip her with his skates.

Cress knew this was going to be a long ten laps. But as long as she got a warm drink at the end, it was okay.

"That was not legal," Thorne said, spooning whipped cream off the top of his hot chocolate and into his mouth.

"It was, you were trying just as hard to trip me up. You're just not as skilled as me."

"Is that a challenge?"

Cress took a long sip of her own hot chocolate, the whipped cream still untouched on the top.

"What if it is?"

"I'm sure that—ha. You have whipped cream on your nose."

"Oh, shush." Cress removed the whipped cream, smearing it on a paper napkin. Thorne let his hand fall, the one that was supposed to wipe it off for her.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "You're being extra daring today."

"Maybe it's the snow."

"That's probably it."

"And break."

"That too."

Thorne stared into space, just above her head. And then right at it. Cress' cheeks grew pink.

"Earth to Thorne?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, just thinking."

"Thinking...?"

"I'm extra daring today too."

Thorne leaned across the table and, for the very first time, they kissed. It tasted of hot chocolate, whipped cream, and a little bit of first snow.

Cress couldn't help it. She smiled.