Take a Chill Pill - Assorted Be More Chill Stuff

Ice Skating

Michael prayed to anyone who would listen that ice skating would be enough like roller skating. Enough that he wouldn't fall and die, that is. He could skate on wheels, sure. He was pretty good at it too, if he said so himself. What worried him was the fact that ice skating sort of involved knives. Blades. Whatever.

Jeremy said that it would be fine. Which was a little comforting. Jeremy was worse at normal skating than he was, anyway. Yeah, this would be fine.

Michael really wished he'd brought gloves, though. Or even like, a real coat. You know, like a normal person. The winter wind nipped at the back of his hands and the tips of his ears, his sweatshirt way too thin for New Jersey in December. His glasses fogged with every breath and spotted with snowflakes. He looked ahead down the hill they'd parked on towards the frozen pond. It was kinda pretty, really, the little candy-colored people swirling in circles on a sheet of misty glass, carving spinning runes into the rink. Kids laughed and shouted. Gaggles of teenage girls giggled in clusters, scarves fluttering and coffee in their mittened hands. Couples linked arms and nuzzled together against the biting air. Strings of red and green fairy lights blinked, barely glowing against the sun which glared from behind a sheet of white clouds. Thick snowflakes danced down in clusters, dusting noses, eyelashes, and the crunchy, half-dead grass. The air tasted like metal and carried a scent of ice and thin smoke. Radio Christmas carols wafted on the breeze. Michael's eyes wandered to Jeremy, cheeks red against the frost, hair peeking out the bottom of his stupid knit hat (it had an oversized pompom on top and everything) in tiny, curled tufts. His thin torso was swaddled in his airbag of a coat. His breath sparkled a path out in front of him, a smile glittering on his lips and in his eyes. Michael wasn't sure he'd seen his friend this happy since the SQUIP incident. And he totally wasn't staring. Nope.

Okay, so maybe the skating wasn't what he was nervous about.

This had all been Christine's idea. Michael wasn't sure whether to curse her or thank her. She'd become better friends with both of the boys since she and Jeremy had broken up around Thanksgiving. It didn't take her long to notice Michael's huge crush on his best friend and try to set them up. It was going to be perfect. They could have fun and freeze half-to-death before going home and sharing hot chocolate and watching movies. It would be cute. It would be easy enough to tell Jeremy how he felt, because it would finally be just the two of them. For the first time since the play, it would be just the two of them, doing something more than playing video games (which was totally fine, but didn't leave much room for like, talking). It worked in theory, at least.

The only problem was Jeremy. As much as everyone told him that nothing bad would happen if Michael just spilled his guts, he knew Jeremy. Probably better than Jeremy himself did. He wasn't good at surprises. Or change. Or even really taking compliments. Meaning, having his best friend confess undying love for him might ruin twelve years of friendship. It might ruin twelve years of trust. And yeah, Christine (and everyone really; Michael had told everyone but Jeremy at this point) said that it would be better to get it off his chest and that Jeremy would understand. They meant too much to each other for the friendship to die, apparently. Yeah, right. Didn't stop Michael's mind from vomiting up each and every way this could possibly go horribly wrong.

Jeremy's gloved fingers wrapping around his numbing ones snapped Michael out of his panicked trance. His eyes darted to Jeremy's hand, coated in black knit and intertwining with his. His face went from very cold to very warm in a rush of pink (thank goodness it was already flushed, or Jeremy might've seen). Jeremy was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, smirking a bit.

"There's no way you aren't freezing, dude. I told you to bring a coat."

"Oh, that's why you're holding my hand," Michael said, ignoring the melting flutter in his stomach. "I was worried for a second."