"JEN, WATCH OU-"

It was too late—she was already hurtling towards the wall at an unholy speed and there were only two potential outcomes if she dared try to stop herself. She would either a) trip forward and faceplant onto the wooden floor, potentially breaking her nose, or b) her skate-clad feet would slip out from beneath her and she would fall backward, resulting in a concussion or a cracked skull or, at a bare minimum, a very nasty headache.

Since none of these were exactly lucrative options, Jen accepted her fate, allowing herself to plow into the wall and inelegantly fall on her butt. She winced at the soreness – this wasn't the first tumble she'd taken tonight by far – and rubbed the shoulder that had just rammed into the neon-patterned wall of the roller rink as Robert glided over to help her up. It was miraculous both that he was able to do it without wobbling on his own skates and that she managed not to drag them both back down, but with a little bit of teamwork, they got her to her feet.

One of his arms was circled around her waist, keeping her steady and secure, but she still firmly placed her hands on his shoulders and held onto him for dear life. This seemed to highly amuse him.

"I apparently didn't take your warning that you can't skate seriously enough," he noted, flashing her a grin of pearly whites.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Robert—when I said I can't skate, I meant I really can't skate." He, meanwhile, was something of a natural at it and had been soaring across the floor with unending grace all evening. "I didn't know roller rinks were much of a thing in Italy."

"They weren't – not where I'm from, at least. I learned in college."

"Oh, great, it's a recent development." Jen let out a puff of breath, trying to blow a pesky loose hair out of her face. It wasn't working. "That makes me feel even better about myself."

"For what it's worth–" his lips tilted into a softer smile. "–You're pretty cute, even though I'm starting to think you're a safety hazard to everyone in this room."

She was a safety hazard. She really needed a helmet. And knee pads, and elbow pads. And a giant, flashing neon sign that said something like WARNING: I WILL PROBABLY RUN INTO YOU. And to be encased in a triple layer of bubble wrap before she was allowed on the rink.

Jen had a bad feeling that her arms and legs were going to look like a watercolored canvas of bruises in the morning. "Beauty isn't worth the pain," she grumbled. "You owe me a good cuddle after this. And a slushie at the snack bar."

Her boyfriend swiftly placed a kiss on her forehead. "Deal."

And then, taking her hands to pull her along with him, he was suddenly skating backward and whisking the two of them across the floor.

"Robert–"

"What?" His grin was wicked now, a thrilling sort of smile that would have made her heart go all fluttery were she not actively fearing for her life. Then again, her heart was pounding like mad in her chest and she was feeling very weak in the knees, and it suddenly occurred to her that it was at this very crux, when the lines between danger and excitement were so blurred that they became indistinguishable, that people got themselves into the most trouble. "I'm doing all the work—you just have to stand there and make sure I don't run into anything."

"That's a tall order for the girl who's constantly running into things," she pointed out.

He managed to make skating look so elegant, whereas she nervously waddled like a baby penguin learning to walk on ice, scared to move one foot too far in front of the other. But he gradually coaxed her into following his lead, and things did move in a much more encouraging direction once he gave up on expecting her to stay on her own two feet without holding onto him, though she still managed at one point to sink into a highly distressing split.

Aside from the pain brought on by her own clumsiness, she was having fun. They had come all the way across town just to go to a rink where no one they knew might be hanging out on a Sunday evening, but she didn't mind—it was nice to get out of her little bubble on occasion, and for dinner, they'd tried out a cool little Thai restaurant around the block that they never would have been to otherwise. Jen's pad thai was delicious, and as a bonus treat, she got to giggle at her boyfriend when he ordered something a little too spicy and his eyes started watering. Now it was his turn to laugh at her as she floundered around the rink like her legs were made of noodles.

He seemed to be having the time of his life, lip singing along to the Michael Jackson songs that pounded out of the speakers as neon lights danced around the floor. She knew that she was going to lose her last ounce of coordination if she allowed herself to look down at the luminescent spirals beneath their skates, so she kept her eyes fixed on him instead, which wasn't exactly a chore. There was something inevitably alluring about watching someone do something they were good at, especially when it came as a surprise to you. And even with all of the bumps and bruises she sustained early on in the evening, she wouldn't have traded this feeling, the lightness of temporarily escaping in twirling along to the music and making silly faces at one another, away for anything else.

Eventually, when she could see sweat start to glisten on his skin and feel the tiny hairs that were too short to pull up into her scrunchie sticking to the back of her neck, he asked, "You ready for that slushie?"

Jen nodded and allowed him to hook his arm through hers to carefully guide her off the rink and over to the concessions area, which was nearly as crowded as the rink itself. In addition to the handful of brightly painted booths where one could enjoy a milkshake and some fries, there were also several arcade machines, most of which were currently occupied by teenagers. She immediately felt more steady on her feet once they moved off of the slick wood and onto the black carpet, which was patterned with aggressively bright geometric shapes and squiggles, but she still certainly didn't trust herself to retrieve their drink without stumbling and spilling it everywhere, so she slid into a booth and held their spot for them while he skated over to the concessions counter.

Her eyes slowly roamed around the room, soaking in her surroundings while she waited for him to return. Blinking lights hypnotically flashed at her from a Pac-Man machine and she found herself simply staring at them. It felt nice to sit and do nothing else for a couple of minutes—she hadn't realized how tired her body was from spending all that time on her feet, not to mention the multiple falls. Her elbows, already forming bruises from when she landed on them once or twice, ached in protest when she rested them against the table, so she leaned back in her seat and loosely wrapped her arms around herself instead.

The line for food had looked quite long, but it was only a couple of minutes before Robert skated back over to her, wielding in one hand a giant cup that was covered with a dome lid and filled to the brim with icy, red liquid.

Jen happily clapped her hands together as he slipped into the seat across from her. "I see they had cherry."

"Only the best for my Jen," he smiled, nudging it towards her for her to take the first sip.

She raised her eyebrows, her lips smiling around the straw as she took a gulp. The flavor was good, but it was the relieving coldness of it as it went down her throat that made it so blissful. She hadn't realized just how uncomfortably warm she'd been getting from being in such a hot, crowded room for so long, but she could feel that her cheeks were flushed with color. "Your Jen."

"My dearest Jen." His smile was so sweet, so pure, that she felt a pang of longing to lean across the table and press her lips against his, not caring that there were all these other people around. "Though I hope you would tell me if my calling you that ever bothers you. Surely I don't have to tell you that you're your own first and foremost."

She returned his smile, reaching across the table with one hand while prodding the drink towards him with the other. "I like being yours," she told him almost bashfully as his fingers wrapped around hers and he lifted the straw to his lips. "But if that should ever change, I'll make sure to promptly give you a piece of my mind. I assure you that I won't leave you guessing."

He grinned. "Sounds like a good plan."

"I prefer to have control over situations" she admitted. "In case you hadn't noticed."

"Of course I noticed–" he started, but was cut off by his own laugh when she playfully smacked his hand. "Hey, I didn't mean it in a bad way! I just mean that it's a central part of who you are, an essential component of your personality. You wouldn't be my Jen without it."

"...And you like every part of me?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her mind went straight back to their unexpected little make-out escapade the night prior. His lips murmuring against hers; his breath hot against her neck; her hands shoving his jacket off and tangling in his hair.

And as if reading her mind, he leaned forward in his seat with a tiny smirk and said, "I do."

Jen took a long slip of slushie to push back at the extra warmth that had risen up in her all of the sudden. "So, I'm yours, but..."

"But...?"

"Are you mine?"

For a split second, he looked surprised, but then his eyebrows scrunched together like he was confused. He was rubbing her hand with this thumb now, but she wasn't sure when he had started, and it struck her that very much must have changed for her to now be so accustomed to his touches that she barely registered them at times.

"Of course I'm yours." A flurry of satisfaction through her stomach. "How couldn't I be, when I–"

In a slightly uncharacteristic fashion, he cut himself off mid-sentence and instead took another sip of their drink. There was a spot of pink on each of his cheeks, which she assumed was simply from all of the exercise—it wasn't like he had anything to be embarrassed about.

"Nevermind about me," he said quietly, his eyes lifting up from the drink to meet hers. They were pooled with warmth – and concern. "How are you feeling?"

Jen didn't need her computer science degree to know that he was talking about her mood when he found her last night. After all that kissing, she'd quickly fixed her appearance in the compact mirror she kept in her purse – it really was a lot of kissing – and briefly ventured back inside the fairgrounds just to lie to her parents and say that she wasn't feeling well and had found a ride back to Chicago. Dad obviously knew it was a lie, but he'd kept his mouth shut, and Mom only let her leave once she showed that she had pepper spray in her purse to keep herself safe if her ride turned out to be sketchy. She silently held Robert's hand all the way home, wanting to cry and let all of her emotions spill out to him but finding that her eyes were somehow completely dry.

"Better, I guess?" Truthfully, she wasn't sure how she felt at all. Weary, perhaps. Like she was stuck in a neverending cycle that she just wanted to end, but none of her attempts to do so ever worked. "I just...I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to make the constant arguing with my dad stop."

"Fixing relationships doesn't happen overnight," he offered softly, his finger drawing little circles against the side of hers. She counted them in her head. One, two, three. "And sometimes they can't be fixed at all, or it can't happen until you've had the time to grow into different people."

Jen's smile returned to her. "You should have been a therapist."

"I don't know that I'd like that. I'd certainly get paid better," he mused, entertaining the thought while lazily twirling their straw. "But I don't need more money. I'm the happiest I've ever been."

Her heart swelled with its overwhelming fondness for him, and the pressure to make sure he remained happy. "Me, too. I realize I probably don't sound like it, but I am. I promise."

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on it.

"You're the best," Jen murmured to him.

They'd come to her place after the roller rink and were now cozied up on her couch. An herbal-scented candle flickered on the coffee table, filling the room with its ambient light, and Robert was giving her a back massage to make up for how battered up she'd gotten at the rink.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, kissing the spot where the collar of her shirt ended and bared her skin. "You're not that difficult to please," he hummed.

"Oh, but I am. You just happen to be an exceptional person."

His lips, soft and warm, kissed her cheek, relaxing Jen even more. She leaned back against him, letting her eyelids idly flutter closed and then open again. "You wanna put on a movie or something? Or read?"

"Whatever you want, my darling."

An uninvited giggle escaped her mouth before she could stop it. "My darling. You sound so serious. But in a good way—I like it."

"Because none of those letters I've written you have ever sounded serious at all." Though she couldn't see his face, she knew he'd be grinning. And she could feel him grinning as his lips kissed her cheek again. And again, and again, as if he couldn't get enough of her.

"Okay, you've got me there."

His arms were wrapped around her body, drawing her closer to him, and she was more than happy to let him hold her. She'd always dreamed in her teenage fantasies of having a man hold her like this, but she never could have imagined the reality of it, that it would feel this way. Like she was safe. Like he needed her. Like he wanted her just as much as she wanted him, if not more.

She expected his voice to come out silky and smooth, for him to say something coy and make her laugh, but instead, it came out sounding surprisingly bare and vulnerable. "But you see," he said quietly. "I had no choice. You make me all tongue-tied, so I have to put as much of it as I can down on paper."

Jen took in a breath. "You don't sound very tongue-tied."

"Maybe not." His slender fingers trailed along her arm, sending a pleasant shiver throughout her body. His head was bowed against her shoulder, as if he was brimming with some emotion she didn't understand quite yet, and she held back the urge to lift her hand and soothingly stroke his hair. But some instinct inside of her told her not to move, that this moment was beautiful and intimate and she ought not to disturb it. She could feel his breath wobbling, threatening to betray his usually calm and steady composure. "But when I'm not with you, I think of all the things I want to say to you when I see you again. I go through so many different ways of how I could say it and yet when I'm with you, when I see how spectacularly beautiful you are...it never comes out like I mean it to."

Jen stilled in his arms, and her voice suddenly sounded very small. "What's 'it?'"

"Jen, I–"

He was broken off by a sharp noise. The phone was ringing.

She squeezed her eyes shut and resisted the urge to punch one of the throw pillows. "We can just let it ring."

"No," he sighed. "You should answer it. It's late—it could be important."

The absolute last thing she felt like doing was extract herself from her boyfriend's arms and getting up from her cozy couch so that she could walk across the cold floor and answer what was probably an obnoxious telemarketer. But since he wanted her to, she did just that, not masking her irritation when she answered it with a blunt, "Hello?"

"Jen–"

Her whole body went cold, a painful brittleness that started in her stomach and spread outwards to her fingertips, her toes, her cheeks. At the same time, a shot of adrenaline coursed through her, and every inch of her tightened. It was that kind of dread she'd never wanted to feel again, the kind of feeling that could leave you waking up in a cold sweat for months. The kind that shot you through the heart like a bullet and left you broken and defenseless.

It was Nora. And she sounded frightened.

"Something's happened."

____________________

A/N:

yikes

this one goes out to bestie Cate for letting me borrow her title for this chapter