I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know...
'Hey,' Matt said, sitting astride his bike.
'Hey back,' Sam said, somewhat shyly.
'Here's your helmet. Put it on, and climb on back,' Matt smiled encouragingly, holding a helmet out for her. She reached out to take it, and then worked to put it on.
'Does it fit alright? Here, let me check.' Matt checked the straps, rocked the helmet - and her head - a couple of times, and then nodded in satisfaction. Wordlessly, Sam climbed onto the pillion seat, put her arms around Matt's waist, and hung on as he drew away.
........
Sam gripped the wall of the rink as she struggled to balance on her skates. She wished she hadn't said yes now. She could barely look Matt straight in the face after landing on her backside. He must be laughing right round the other side of his face, and at her. She couldn't bear it. She gritted her teeth and proceeded, making her way painfully slowly back to the gate, keeping her eyes trained on her feet, praying that they wouldn't give way again.
Skates skidded to a halt in front of her, breaking her concentration. She jerked her head upwards to tell the owner of the feet off to find Matt staring intently at her, a half smile on his lips.
'Hold my hands,' he said, holding them both out to her.
'Um ... but ...' she dithered.
'Don't you trust me?' He responded, acting a pout.
'I guess,' she responded shyly, putting her hands into is, shocked at how big his hands were compared to hers.
'Come,' he encouraged, skating backwards, pulling her into the middle of the rink.
Song extract from "White Christmas"
