“He’s just after more power and a fatter paycheck,” another one nods vigorously. “Doesn’t give a hoot about what the people actually want.”
“I’m not a politician,” Everett says with an awkward laugh.
“That’s exactly why you’d be perfect,” a tall beta insists. “You’re one of us. You understand what this town needs.”
Everett shifts uncomfortably, his hand still steadying me on the ice. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but Reynolds has been in office for what, twelve years now? Every candidate who’s ever run against him has lost.”
“Maybe they were the wrong candidates.” The first woman says. “Think about it, Everett. “The election’s not until spring. Plenty of time to consider.
Everett nods, then turns to me. “I’d like to introduce you—”
Before he can finish, Charlie appears, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “This is Melody, the twerking omega who told off Mayor Reynolds.”
“Oh, you’re the one who spat on him!” Another one adds.
My face heats instantly. “That’s not exactly… I mean, the llama spat on him, not me, and I didn’t actually twerk… that was a different time.”
The woman laughs delightedly. “Oh, we’ve all heard about it! Best thing that could’ve happened to Reynolds.”
More people join our little circle, each with a story about their perfect Christmas tree from Everett or a question about “the llama incident.” I find myself laughing along, drawn into their easy camaraderie.
Eventually, the crowd disperses, and I realize I’m still holding Everett’s hand. I should let go. That would be thesensible thing to do. But I can feel the heat of his palm through my winter gloves, and when I look up at him, the way he’s gazing at me makes my breath catch.
“Want to try skating again?” he asks softly.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
This time, instead of plunging recklessly forward, I let Everett guide me. He skates backward, holding both my hands, pulling me gently across the ice.
“That’s it,” he encourages as I find my balance. “Just relax and let your body adjust.”
I focus on the feeling of gliding, of Everett’s hands in mine, of the crisp winter air filling my lungs. It’s magical.
“I’m skating!” I shout triumphantly.
“You are,” he agrees, his eyes twinkling.
Across the rink, Gabe is performing the same service for Finn, though with considerably more dramatic commentary from his partner.
We pass each other in the middle of the rink, and Finn gives me a look of exaggerated suffering.
“Traitor,” he mouths at me.
I stick out my tongue in response.
“Children, behave,” Gabe scolds, but he’s fighting a smile.
“Or don’t behave,” Charlie calls. “Remember, sometimes being naughty is way more fun than being nice. Santa’s list is overrated!”
The four of us make a circuit of the rink together, Charlie occasionally zipping past with commentary or to spray ice at Finn, who threatens elaborate revenge.
“I want to skate with Everett now,” Finn announces suddenly, releasing Gabe’s hand and reaching for Everett’s.
In the days I’ve known them, I’ve never seen Finn voluntarily separate from Gabe. They’re always touching—Gabe’s armaround Finn’s shoulders, Finn’s hand on Gabe’s knee, their bodies naturally gravitating toward each other.
“You do?” I ask, I’m reluctant to leave Everett’s warmth; everything about him feels safe and steady, but then Gabe smiles down at me, and I’m a puddle right there on the ice.
“Absolutely,” Finn says with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Everett here was the team captain. Maybe he can teach me that fancy stop thing you do.”