CJ

The lesson in alternative uses for syrup goes well—very well, if I do say so myself. By the time I’m finished with Graham, he’s so useless I have to bring his plate of pancakes to him on the kitchen floor and feed him syrup-soaked pieces until he recovers his strength.

“You’re such a drama king,” I tease as I pop a bite between his lips before stabbing another triangle for myself.

He smiles, his eyes closed as he chews. “Am not. This is what happens to a man when you give him the best blow job of his life.” He continues before I can challenge the truth of that statement. “Besides, I’m conserving my energy for the afternoon’s adventures.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, intrigued. “And what might those be?”

His eyes open in a sleepy, sexy way that makes my body start to hum again. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise. Something to push us both out of our comfort zones. It’s going to be fun.”

I arch an eyebrow, unsure what he’s getting at. “If you say so.”

“But you will need to dress for moderate to strenuous physical activity in the out of doors.”

My brows lift. “You want to go outside?”

“Hard to conduct the lesson I have in mind in an apartment.”

I twist my features into an exaggerated frown. “All right. If you insist. But I confess I was having fantasies about keeping you in bed all day. With few to no clothes on.”

“Tempting. Very tempting, but there will be time for that tomorrow. Today, we’re taking it to the streets. Get dressed, Butterfly. We’re going out.”

An hour later, after two subway rides—a trip to The Village Vet to check on Stephen King and spoil him with petting and tuna treats, and a walk through a part of Brooklyn I haven’t seen before—we arrive at the Prospect Park outdoor roller-skating rink, and Graham holds open the gate to usher me inside.

“You have to be kidding,” I say, my gaze sliding to the families, couples, and wild, sticky-faced kids rolling in frenzied circles. “We both stink at roller-skating.”

“Which is why this is a perfect chance to learn something new together.”

“While I love the idea, might I remind you of the debacle known as Chloe’s roller-disco party two years ago?”

“I know. That’s what’ll make it fun. We’ll fall on our assess in unity.”

I shoot him a skeptical stare. “Have you forgotten that you nearly wound up with a shattered tailbone? I, for one, have a crystal-clear visual of you landing smack on your cute butt in the middle of the rink.”

He smirks. “You think my ass is cute.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously. But that’s neither here nor there. Why don’t you park that cute butt on a paddleboat and we can do that together instead? They rent those. I saw a sign back there.”

He shakes his head, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’d rather see your cute butt skating in front of me.”

I laugh at him and then take a deep breath. Come to think of it, what if I do fall on my butt? What if he falls on his?

We’ll get back up. We’ll keep on skating. We’ll figure it out together.

A fresh surge of confidence zips through me. “Fine, then let’s lace up, speedy. I’m ready to race if you are,” I say with a wink.

“Oh, I was born ready.” He takes my hand. “And don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

His words echo as we head to the rental counter.

I won’t let you fall . . .

Oh, but Graham, it’s already too late, don’t you see? I’m already falling. Falling so fast and I can’t seem to stop.

But I don’t say any of those things out loud. I just grip his hand, determined to hold tight for the time we have left.

* * *

We aren’t disco kings on roller skates. I’m not bopping along like a roller-derby girl, and he’s not a skate god on wheels. We are stiff and silly-looking and laughing more than any other couple on the rink.

And I like it that way.

As I watch him glide unsteadily around the turns, a little clunky at first but a whole lot determined, I find I’m even more attracted to him than I was before we arrived. I love that he’s not amazing at skating. I love that he’s awkward, but he’s doing it anyway. He’s not letting imperfection get in the way of a good time.

And neither am I.

I make it around a few times, skating more comfortably with each lap. Then he skates a few feet in front of me and comes to an only semi-shaky stop.

“Impressive,” I observe.

He holds out a hand. “How about a spin?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No way. Straight ahead without falling is enough excitement for me.”

“One spin,” his wheedles, fingers curling around mine. “C’mon. No risk, no reward.”

“I’ll fall.”

“You won’t fall.” He takes both my hands, skating slowly in a curve. “I’ve got you, Butterfly. Trust me.”

“I do trust you. Obviously,” I say. My heart jerks as his eyes meet mine and something passes between us, something intimate that makes me forget I can’t spin in skates.

And in that moment, I’m sure he can see right through me, straight to that starry-eyed dreamer who wants so much more from him than seven days. Will she scare him away?

But he just holds on tight and says, “Look at us. We rock.”

We glide faster, spinning in smooth circles, both of us relaxing as we gain confidence. We aren’t going to sign up for synchronized skating any time soon, but I’m smiling, and he’s grinning, and skating is even more fun with him by my side.

So are sleepovers.

And dinners.

And kitty scavenger hunts.

And pancake-making.

New things are better with him, too.

Like a certain physical activity he’s introduced me to. One that’s brought me so much closer to him than I ever bargained for.

Love . . . I’ve fallen in love.

But if I tell him I earned an F in keeping my heart out of this deal, I know there’s a good chance I’ll lose him as a friend. Graham has firm boundaries, and I’ve never seen him let a woman as close as I want to be to him.

So close. All the way close.

And I can’t risk that. I care about him too much to excise him from my life by pushing for more than he’s willing to give.

My chest hurts, and a lump forms in my throat. The lump threatens to turn into something more intense, but I swallow it down.

I’m keeping my chin up and my head in the beautiful now, not the uncertain future. When I look back on this magical week, at least I’ll know I soaked it all in, from the first kiss, to hand-holding at the skating rink, to the moment we say goodbye.

Too bad there’s no class that can prepare me to let him go. Of that, I’m sure.