Kyle’s P.O.V.

That was really close in all honesty. I don’t know why or how I did that without getting caught. That last verse we sang together really described my feelings for him.

If I always come over to help him, I kinda want him to be mine.

What am I saying? I don’t like Stan; He’s my super best friend. I can’t like him again. I just can’t.

We finally arrived at my wished place and both got out of the car, slamming the door back, out of a rebel attitude for skipping the day away.

We walked in and I payed for two tickets. We went to the back and picked out a pair of skates our size and headed towards the rink which barely anyone attended.

It was a school day, meaning kids were at school. And that left a few adults. Maybe a current total of six adults. four of them looked around the age of nineteen through twenty-six. No older. The other two looked around thirty, but no later.

I began to grab the disinfectant spray from the counter and spray every surface of my rental shoes, as Stan just put them on normally.

“Dude,” I started up. “What?” He asked, timidly. “You never knew who wore those. They could have feet fungi or even athelete’s foot.” I scolded.

“Kyle, I have done the worst known drug to man, I don’t think some feet disease is gonna hurt me-”  He lied.

“Well, you’re not doing that anymore. And give me these,” I lectured, and started to pull his shoes off with force, spraying them down completely.

I wasn’t going to allow him to get some type of disgusting foot desease that some careless old man placed in his shoes.

I handed his shoes back with a smile. He took them embarassedly, and began to put them on and tie them.

We finished with our shoes and skated out to the rink. I noticed Stan was having trouble and he was a bit clumsy, and almost fell, so I stood next to him for a support rock.

I always went here, ever since I was 12, so I was pretty good at it.

“Dude, I know it’s not your first time-” I joked, helping him get a steady step. “Hush, it’s been forever-” He replied, focusing on walking.

I noticed he had his balance on track, so I slowly let go, but was prepared to catch him if he fell. Stan was taking cautious steps and began to do a pattern to help him get across.

I followed right beside him, repeating his rhythmic steps. “There ya go,” I confided, still cautiously holding my arm out for support if Stan became unsteady.

He reached for my hand and gripped tightly, feeling unconfident. I felt my hands began to heat up as he placed his in mine. Stan gained professional balance and I did too. We picked up the speed and started skating around the ice rink.

This was nice. I missed spending time with Stan, as we did back in seventh grade.

(thanks for reading ig i'm not continuing this cause it was a draft from like 2 years ago)