Like he said he would, he pays for us and hands me my skates. He takes a seat across from me and laces himself up. He notices my trouble doing so and assists me. I feel my anxiety rising as I gaze at the ice. In a matter of minutes, we're walking from the lobby to the rink and I am going slower than a turtle. Gee, I'm really resembling that shelled creature today. Meanwhile, he's zooming ahead, all but doing flips.
"Is this what heels feels like?" he jokes. "Do they make my butt look nice?"
"You're a baseball player, Dominic, your butt is already nice," I hiss as I struggle to walk. I stare longingly at the wall a few feet away. Just a few more feet.
"You've looked?" He turns around and sees me struggling to keep my balance. He struts over and I clutch his arm.
"Shut up," I grumble as
