“What are you doing tonight?” Gret asked as I helped him clean up the kitchen from breakfast.
I climbed up onto the cool granite counter while Gret loaded the dishwasher. “I have a gig tonight at The Oak Room at the Algonquin. Want to come?”
Gret pursed his lips. “Sure! What time do you go on?”
“Eight. I have to be there at seven.”
“Have you been to Rockefeller yet?”
“Nope.” I blushed a little. I hadn’t gone out much or explored the city since moving there six months before. Living in one of the most infamous cities in the world should have been thrilling but I lived in a bubble.
“Well, it’s Christmas Eve and I’m taking you tonight before you have to head to the Algonquin.” Gret kissed my cheek before helping me down from the counter.
“It’s a date,” I teased, nudging Gret with my elbow.
“A fake one. Besides, you can’t live in New York without at least experiencing the touristy magic of the tree and decorations at least once.”
It had been three days since I had even met Gret and already I was more comfortable with him than I had been with anyone in my entire life. Feelings of guilt washed over me. It wasn’t that I was using Gret, I genuinely loved his company, but it still felt like I was taking advantage of his generosity.
* * *
Standing in a crowd of people,staring up at the most magnificent Christmas tree and hearing the music coming from Macy’s was something I would never forget.
“Pretty great, isn’t it?” Gret wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“There are no words,” I responded, glancing over my shoulder at him.
“Can you skate?”
Whipping around in his arms, I furrowed my brow and cocked my head to the side. “Kind of. Why?”
Gret pointed to the rink below us. “Because you need the full experience.”
“I don’t know…” My stomach did flip flops as I watched the hoard of skaters going around in a circle.
Gret laughed. “I skate for a living. I think I can keep you upright and safe. If someone gets too close, I’ll body check them. It’s my specialty.”
“As long as I don’t fall and break an ankle before I have to get on stage.”
“I promise that this will be great and you’re going to be fine.”
Before I could protest any more, Gret was helping me lace up his mother’s ice skates before putting his hockey skates on. Apparently, he was prepared.
“Too tight?” Gret asked as he helped me to my feet.
My knees were wobbly as I shook my head. “I think they’re fine.”
“Just remember, don’t bend your ankles.”
Gret skated backwards onto the ice, gripping both of my hands in his. As muscle memory took over, I started to skate while never breaking eye contact with Gret.
“Try not to look so petrified. This is supposed to be fun,” Gret teased as he pulled me a little closer to him.
I took in a deep breath. He was right. I needed to loosen up and just take in the moment.
“Do you do this every year?” I asked, trying to ignore how terrible I was at skating.
“Whenever my mom gets an itch to show off in front of all of the tourists.”