Our Year of Maybe

Sophie tugs on a few strands of hair that have escaped her slouchy gray beanie. She’s had that hat for years, and I’ve always thought she looked so cute in it. (No, of course I never said anything.) “Thanks. Peter said you play guitar?”

“Peter is correct. You’ll have to see us play.” He bumps my shoulder with his. “Your friend here has some real skills.”

“I know that,” Sophie says, her voice tinged with a sharpness I’m not used to hearing.

I’m not clueless. If Sophie felt anything for me beyond friendship around the time of the party kiss, this can’t be easy for her. While I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, Chase is my boyfriend now. When I told her about him, she smiled and squealed and told me how happy she was. All I want is for the three of us to be able to spend time together. I don’t want to live a life in segments.

“Should we go inside?” Chase says. His cheeks are red with cold. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m not sure inside will be any better, but yes,” I say, opening the door for the three of us.

It’s late November, the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, when everyone decides ice-skating sounds like fun before realizing no one is actually very good at ice-skating. As a result, the rink is packed.

“Are you any good at this?” I ask Chase as we wait in line for skates. Ahead of us, Sophie tells the person at the counter both our sizes, six for her and ten for me.

“No idea. I haven’t been since I was a kid.”

Sophie hands me the skates. They’re musty and damp and I have no desire to wear them, but I sit down, take off my shoes, and roll up my socks as high as they go to eliminate any accidental contact between the skates and my skin.

When I stand up, I’m immediately off-balance. The skates are too heavy on my feet, the blades awkward. Sophie grabs my arm, saving me from falling.

“You suggested skating so you could make fun of me,” I tell her.

She holds a hand to her heart. “I would never do a thing like that.”

Chase turns out to be so bad he wobbles like a baby giraffe still getting used to its feet, and I try hard not to laugh. Mostly because if I did, I’d want to cover my mouth, and I need my hands to cling to the wall.

A kid in the middle of the rink gracefully lands a double axel.

“He’s mocking us,” Chase says. “What a little asshole.”

Sophie glides around effortlessly. Forward. Backward.

“You’re making us look bad!” Chase calls to her.

She scuffs up some ice as she stops near where we’re holding on to the wall. “Come on,” she says to me, holding out her hands. The freckled tip of her nose is apple-red. “I’ll help you.”

I grip her mittens tight. She skates backward, which makes me feel even worse about my inability to skate a few inches forward.

“We’ll start slow,” she says.

“What about me makes you think I’m graceful at all?”

She bites her lip to avoid smiling. “Bend your knees. You’re too stiff. And lean forward a bit.”

I do, and it feels a little easier. A little less like I’m going to fall and break a leg at any instant. I throw a look over my shoulder at Chase, who’s still against the wall, but the backward glance messes with my balance. My skate wobbles, and I slip, but Sophie holds me upright, a feat, given her size.

“I’m going to make us both fall,” I say.

“No. I have you.” Her gaze is solid, steady on mine, and it makes me believe her. “You won’t fall. One foot, then the other. Good! Nice job.”

She’s definitely lying, but we manage one lap around the rink like this.

“You’re getting better,” Sophie says as we skate over to Chase. I half expect her to swap us out and help him around the rink, but why would she? She barely knows him. Instead, she tries tugging me along for lap two, but I pull my hands from her grasp.

“You go,” I tell her. Her gaze flicks between Chase and me, her expression unreadable. I feel my face get hot, despite how arctic it is in here.

Chase shakes his head as he watches her skate away.