They were silent for a while.
“It’s freedom,” Mark said finally. “And I wanted to share that with you. I know it sounds cheesy, but maybe it can be our thing. I don’t expect that the rest of our lives together will be smooth and pain-free. I don’t expect that I’ll never hurt your feelings at some point in the future because I’m human, and I make mistakes. But I think if we can have a place to go to drop the baggage for a while, skate away from it, maybe that can give us perspective. It’s done that for me, especially after my dad died. I’d come here and skate all the time. Drop my baggage and just skate away. Even if I was just going in circles.”
“But I can’t skate,” Cadence pointed out.
“That’s why I’m teaching you,” Mark said.
“But what if I never get good at it?” she asked.
“I hope you never do, Cadence.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because then I’ll always get to hold your hand. I’ll always get to help you.”
The side of her mouth quirked up.
“I don’t want us to skate on our own. I never wanna skate by myself ever again. If I need to roll around this rink to forget about something hurtful, then I wanna do it with someone. I wanna do it with you. Whenever we fight, whenever we hurt each other, I want us to come here and skate together—drop the baggage together. Because two are better than one.”
Cadence wiped the tear from her eye. “Hey, that’s from the Bible.”
“I know.”
“Do you know the rest?” she asked.
“‘Two are better than one because they help each other succeed’,” he quoted.
“You didn’t study that in your religion course,” Cadence said.
“No. No, I didn’t.”
The light dawned, but it wasn’t time to reveal what she understood. She asked him instead to skate for her.
“Really?” he said, grinning.
And two seconds later, the DJ asked everyone to clear the floor for speed skate time. Mark helped Cadence to the nearest exit, kissed her lips, then returned to the rink.
“Prepare to have your socks knocked off!” he called. “I’m the best!”
“No way!” a kid to his right called. A middle schooler.
Mark glanced at Cadence and rolled his eyes. “You listening to this kid?”
She laughed and nodded.
“Dude, I’ll wipe the floor with you,” the boy said.
“I’d like to see you try,” Mark replied.
The DJ cued up Bobby Brown’s “On Our Own” from the Ghostbusters II soundtrack, and Mark burst out laughing.
“This is my skate tune, little man. You don’t have a chance,” he said, and then he took off, the kid right on his heels.
Cadence clapped as Mark rounded the corner, whizzing past her while he sang the words to the chorus. She couldn’t make sense of her conflicting emotions—lust for his fluid body and embarrassment for his over-the-top dorkiness. She screamed at him to speed up; the little kid was gaining on him. Mark looked behind him for a split second, turning his face forward just in time to narrowly miss a skater directly in front of him.
“Black shirt with the white letters! Slow down!” the DJ called from the booth.
Mark ignored him and took the corner too wide on one skate, giving his opponent the inside advantage.
“Shit,” he hissed, watching the kid take the lead.
“Hey! Kid with the red shirt! Slow down!” the DJ yelled in the mic.
“Listen to the DJ!” Mark called.
“Yeah right, old man!” the kid yelled behind him.
They picked up speed, dodging and weaving in and out of the other speed skaters, going round and round in a furious, reckless race. Cadence saw two employees sprint to the half wall. It was all over in a minute, and she burst out laughing. Mark and the kid rounded their last corner, neck and neck, charging forward towards the employees who waited to order them into time-out from the rink.
“We know!” Mark yelled, flying past them.
“Get off the floor!” one called to his back.
“Yeah yeah, we know!” he replied, stopping suddenly, and skating off through an exit.
“Grow. Up,” the other employee snapped as he skated past her on the outside edge of the rink.
“I can’t,” he replied, breathing heavily. “Why do you think I come here?”
She rolled her eyes and turned her back on him.
He looked around for Red Shirt, spotting him hanging near Cadence. He skated over to them and clasped hands with his opponent.
“A draw,” he said.
“No way, man. I beat you,” the kid replied.
“No, you didn’t,” Mark countered. He looked at his girlfriend. “Cadence, who won?”
“The kid,” she replied.
Red Shirt smiled brightly. “Buy me some nachos.”
“That was our agreement?” Mark asked.
The kid nodded. “I yelled ‘Nachos’ on the floor when I passed you.”
“You little liar,” Mark replied, pulling a five dollar bill from his wallet.
“Thanks!” the kid exclaimed, snatching it. “Call me,” he said to Cadence, then turned and skated to the snack counter.
Mark raised his eyebrows.
Cadence shrugged and held up a little piece of paper with a phone number scrawled on it. “He thinks I’m in middle school.”