Val eyed the arm. She’d been at enough galas to know what to do, so she threaded her hand under the limb and placed it on the elbow. He wore a cable knit sweater in brown and beige, but the shirt collar peeking through was in loud, rainbow colors. The sweater was thick and soft.

“You hungry?” Booker asked. “We can grab a snack before we hit the ice.”

“I’m always hungry,” Val confessed.

Booker chuckled. “Good answer.”

“There’s a great cafe in the park.” Val allowed him to escort her across the backyard to the red Jeep Rubicon waiting in the street. “They have the best croissants in the city.”

“Croissants it is, then!” Booker grinned.

Croissants, it was, thirty minutes later in the park, so fresh that they were still warm. Late snow dusted the park and shimmered on the bold lines of Brooklyn Bridge as it towered overhead. Val and Booker strolled around, eating their croissants and clutching a paper cup of hot cocoa as they headed between the bare trees. The still air and clear blue sky had brought an army of people out to play. Kids’ laughter and buzzing conversations rippled through the calm day.

“Perfect day for ice skating,” Booker remarked.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been,” Val admitted.

Booker grinned. “It’s a day for firsts, huh? Well, I promise to give you a good experience.”

Val returned his smile. “You fed me croissants. I’m happy.”

Booker snorted. “Here we are. Welcome to Emily Warren Roebling Plaza.”

The bridge towered overhead. The plaza had been converted into an expanse of smooth, white ice. A group of people was already on the ice: uncertain kids clinging to the sides, reckless teenagers zooming in all directions, and an elderly couple serenely gliding past hand-in-hand.

Booker disappeared to hire them skates and returned a few minutes later. “Ready to try this?” he asked, shaking the skates so their blades rattled.

“I guess.” Val took them. It took an age to unlace the Doc Martins and lace the hired skates, but eventually, she rose to her feet, wobbling on the narrow blades.

“Careful!” Booker held out a hand.

Val gripped it.

“Ow!” the human protested.

“Sorry.” Val loosened her death grip. “I’m not into falling on my face.”

“I’ll try to prevent that.” Booker laughed. “C’mon. Let’s do this.”

Val wobbled alongside him, clutching his hand for balance until they reached the ice. Booker’s skates were white leather, and he stepped onto the ice with effortless grace.

“Okay, hang onto me,” he told her. “It’s going to feel weird.”

Val edged onto the ice. Her legs abruptly went in different directions, and she gave an embarrassing squeal of alarm.

“It’s okay! It’s okay.” Booker grabbed her arms. “Point your toes forward. You’ve got this.”

Val corrected, and with a gentle tug from Booker, she glided forward. He skated alongside her, propelling and balancing her. A few kids pointed and laughed. Val checked that her afro wasn’t askew.

“Ignore them. You’re doing great.” Steam curled from Booker’s smile.

“How do I make myself go?” Val demanded.

“Hey, take it easy. Get your balance first,” Booker suggested.

Val tugged her arm out of his grasp. The movement made her wobble, and she waved her arms to stay upright. Booker reached for her.

“Uh-uh!” Val protested. “I can do it!”

Booker raised his hands. “Okay.”

Val regained her balance and held her arms to the side, grinning. “Now, how do I make myself go?”

Booker chuckled. “This is going to be fun.”

Manhattan’s sparkling skyline blurred as she sped across the ice. Val’s arms swung, her skates biting into the frozen surface, eyes focused on the bridge pillar ahead.

“How?” Booker spluttered.

She glanced sideways at him and relished the shock in his eyes. He put his head down and skated harder, struggling to keep up. A giggle burst unbidden from Val’s lips. She felt him growing nearer, but the pillar loomed.

“Aha!” Booker yelled in triumph. His palm slapped the pillar a heartbeat before Val’s.

“Almost!” Val laughed, breathless.

Booker bent double, hands on his knees. “Shit, girl. I can’t believe that was your first time ice skating.” He wheezed, “I could hardly keep up with you.”

“I can’t do any of your tricks,” Val reminded him.

Booker snorted. “I should hope not. Nearly beating me in a race is bad enough.” He straightened. “Okay, my masculine pride has failed. I can’t skate another foot. My legs are done.”

“Same, honestly.” Val laughed. “I’m ready for that dinner you mentioned.”

“Cool, because I’ve had enough humiliation for one day,” Booker told her.

They skated to the edge and switched their skates for shoes. Val’s ankles ached as she tightened her boots while Booker returned the skates.

“Dinner’s on me,” Val suggested.

Booker shook his head. “No, it’s cool. I asked you out. I’ll pay for it.”

“In that case, I want seafood.” Val fell into step beside him as they strolled through the park. “All the seafood.”

“That can be arranged.” Booker chuckled and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “Hey, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure. I mean, that’s the point of dating, isn’t it?” Val mused.