Unsteady

by Peyton Corinne

“You’re the figure skater that looks like fire.”

“For the record,” I say, looking out along the lake, across all the life around us. “I am offering.” She’s silent. Smiling and shaking her head, she avoids every ounce of the eye contact I’m directing toward her. But I can’t bring myself to regret it.

“The entire hockey team is in my kitchen,” I whisper. My hand trails along her side to tuck against the soft fabric of her thong and tug it down over her hips. “So maybe I should let you scream as loud as you want, Gray. Then there’ll be no mistaking who exactly you belong to.”