Anissa’s boots crunched softly in the snow-dusted grass as she closed the short distance to the rink’s entrance, a journey of only a handful of steps, yet enough to plunge her into an entirely different atmosphere. The raucous energy of the party faded into a muffled backdrop, replaced by the almost sacred silence of the ice. It was vast and gleaming beside her, seeming to hold its breath under the night sky. Only one other person was out there: the same petite blonde from earlier, who was now moving with the slow, careful rhythm of someone rediscovering a long-forgotten skill. They appeared to be orbiting each other tonight, not by design, of course, but more by chance. Anissa watched her in passing, noting the blonde’s concentration, her lack of hurry, the unashamed caution she employed to avoid what was sure to be a nasty fall. There was something enviable in that patience, that willingness to be publicly imperfect without a trace of self-consciousness. Anissa had never been that person; patience was a virtue she’d never comfortably taken on.
Her gloved fingers brushed the cold metal of the railing, her momentum faltering just shy of stepping onto the ice. The bourbon warmth in her veins, which had felt like courage moments before, now settled into a more sluggish feeling: hesitation. She had told Blair she would skate, had announced it with a confidence that now felt like it was running away from her. Suddenly, the idea seemed less like fun and more like one of her reckless temptations, a direct challenge to the stability she’d just found standing with River. Ironically, it was probably also River’s fault that she was feeling this way at all. Damn him. She had no choice but to prove him wrong, she supposed.
Then came the sound of footsteps or, more accurately, a wavering shuffle that ended in a muted thud against the railing a few feet away. The spell of solitary silence shattered as a familiar figure stumbled into her periphery: Blair, cheeks flushed a bright pink, her smile charmingly crooked, trailing the unmistakable aura of someone who had definitively overstayed her welcome at the bar. Just as she had been with Sylas, Blair was a disruption, but also, paradoxically, a comfort. Anissa should never have left her, she realized then. She should have watched over Blair the way she herself had always secretly wished someone might do for her. Not that she was in a much better position to play guardian, really.
All these realizations made her doubt herself all over again.
“I may have had too much to drink,” Blair confessed with a breathy laugh and a guilty smile that, to Anissa, was far too endearing to be truly apologetic.
Anissa let out a small laugh of her own, though the sound lacked the confidence she’d projected just minutes ago. “Yeah, I got that impression,” she teased, her voice layered with a warmth that held no mockery. She reached out, her hand finding Blair’s elbow to offer a steadying grip. For all her aloofness, she couldn’t help herself. Someone had to be the anchor if they were both determined to wade deeper into this hot mess of her creation.
“Come on,” she said, angling her head toward the bench where a pile of rented skates lay waiting. “If we’re going to humiliate ourselves, we might as well do it together.”
"Yes, let’s." Blair locked her arm with Anissa’s as they made their way over toward the available skates. She lowered herself onto the seat with a little less grace than she previously exhibited, but her smile and bright nature never faltered. "I might have to kidnap a guy to give me a lift home," she mused as she started removing her strappy heels. Even sober, her shoes would have taken a couple of minutes to unlace, but eventually she got them loose enough that she was able to yank them off. She was definitely not putting those back on later. It was warm enough that a little snow wouldn’t hurt her… Hopefully. She put two checkmarks next to the mental note of needing assistance getting back to her cabin.
Anissa dropped onto the bench beside Blair with a weary exhale, her fingers immediately going to the zipper of her right boot. These boots had felt nothing short of transformative when she’d pulled them on hours earlier, with their adding crucial inches to her height and projecting an aura of unshakeable confidence she could borrow when her own natural reserves ran low. But here, under the lights of the rink, they felt absurdly out of place, designed for strutting and not exactly for gliding on ice.
She wriggled her foot free and set the boot down carefully at her side as if to preserve some of its earlier power, even if she could no longer fully access its magic. The second boot followed with less ceremony, her balance tipping precariously for a moment before she caught herself with a flat hand against the cold bench. Her stocking-clad toes curled reflexively against the chill of the concrete floor, a sudden and startling vulnerability that the boots had never permitted.
“Kidnap a guy, huh? That’s a pretty bold strategy.” Anissa glanced sideways at Blair, a wry smile playing on her lips.“Just, you know...choose wisely, I guess?” Her tone was light, teasing, but held an undercurrent of genuine, if tipsy, concern.
"So… Pick the hottest one with the biggest muscles?" Blair asked teasingly, tilting her head back to look up at Anissa with a guilty smile. "Bigger muscles means easier to carry me," she added with a gentle tap to her temple, trying to exemplify that she was thinking smart rather than with what’s between her legs… Ok, well maybe both.
“Muscles are important,” Anissa agreed. “But you should also make sure he's not an asshole. I'd hate to see you wake up next to someone you regret in the morning.” Besides, Blair didn’t look like she weighed very much. Not for the kind of guys she’d seen around here. Anissa doubted that carrying her would be the real issue. What worried her more was the thought of Blair trusting the wrong pair of arms. It was too easy to misread intentions, to confuse a captivating smile with authentic respect. Though Blair clearly knew how to handle herself, Anissa felt a tug of protectiveness. She didn’t have many friends to look out for, after all, and that made the ones she did have matter all the more.
Blair blew out some air, puffing up her lips. "I already slept with the shadiest looking guy here. I’ll be fine." She waved it off like it was nothing. Honestly, considering how drunk she was, the thought of sex was actually not on her mind. Shocking. But drunk sex is sloppy sex. That’s where mistakes are made, like not wearing condoms or sleeping with someone who was coyote ugly bad. She had made the mistake of climbing into bed with someone when she could barely walk straight, and not once was it worth the time wasted. She’d much rather sober up so she had full control over what was happening… And so she could remember it with vivid detail.
“If you say so,” Anissa replied, leaning down to line both boots up neatly side by side before tipping her head back against the wall behind them. Blair was still locked in a battle with her own strappy, complicated heels, her laughter at her struggle making the entire ordeal seem charming rather than clumsy. Anissa’s smile deepened, an unbidden warmth spreading through her chest as she watched. She found herself admiring the other girl’s seemingly innate ability to transform awkwardness into appeal. Or maybe, a distant, logical part of her mind supplied, that’s just the bourbon talking.
Blair started pulling on one of the skates, having a brief moment of panic, realizing she had never been ice skating before. Eh, whatever. How hard could it be? Her fingers fumbled occasionally as she worked on lacing up the boot. "Sooooo..." she mused while tying a bow. "How did it go with nipple boy?"
Anissa froze, her fingers curled around the laces of her skate, Blair’s sudden verbal jab knocking her clean off her axis. Her head tilted slowly, dark brows arching high in a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement, as if she couldn't quite decide whether to laugh aloud or groan in despair. The bourbon still humming through her system tipped the scales decisively toward humour, and a small, undignified snort escaped before she could smother it.
“It was…something,” she muttered, pulling the skate laces with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. The entire cherry fiasco replayed in vivid, cringe-worthy detail: River’s startled slip against the railing, his frantic patting at his own chest, the sheer horror in his wide eyes the moment he’d realized what she’d actually meant. An unwanted blush bloomed high on Anissa’s cheeks, and she ducked her head quickly, pretending to be utterly consumed by the intricate art of tying a secure knot.
Under her breath, she muttered a string of half-formed condemnations, mostly aimed at the so-called Nipple Boy. “Idiot…can’t believe it…gods, he actually thought I would…” The words trailed off, muffled by the curtain of her hair as she bent even lower. She yanked the laces tight, as though cinching the knots could somehow bind up the memory itself, keep it from spilling out again and burning her cheeks any redder.
With a flourish, Anissa tugged on her second skate, trying to reclaim some semblance of composure. Yet the image of his face when she’d clarified “Slippery Nipple” still made her want to bury her own face in her hands. “But gods, Blair—‘nipple boy’? Really?” She shot her friend a sidelong look, already sensing that Blair had no intention of letting this go. She might as well try to clarify.
"Well, it’s not like you told me his name." She gave her own squinty-eyed look back at Anissa before shoving on the second skate.
“His name’s River. And he…well, actually, he didn’t really like the shot very much. Too much grenadine.” The words slipped out more easily than they should have, the bourbon still loosening her tongue. She shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Said he wanted to keep his head clear for tomorrow. Being the leader and all…guess he didn’t want to show up sloppy.”
Blair’s grip on the boot slipped, and the blade smacked against the ground with a sharp shink. Fuck the grenadine. The more important comment was that Mr. Nipple Surfer—Surfer nipple? Surf nipple? Surfer nipple boy? Nipple boy surfer?... What?—River… whatever. He was the new leader? "Woah! You can’t just drop something like that on me all casual like. He’s the new leader?" She jabbed a finger in the air toward the guy in question with a little less secrecy than was necessary. Luckily, Iliana was on the other side of the rink when she said it, so she didn’t spill the beans… Not yet, anyway.
Anissa winced at Blair’s outburst, her shoulders hunching like she’d been caught smuggling state secrets. Was this how she’d been when River had told her about his role here? Gods…she really hoped not. “Shhh, Blair, not so loud,” she hissed, darting a glance toward the rink and then to the bonfire where River had said he’d be. Her stomach flipped when she realized how close Blair’s jabbed finger came to giving them away.
“Yes, he’s the leader. Told me so himself,” she admitted in a hushed tone, stretching her legs out once she’d finished lacing the second skate. The leather felt supple beneath her fingers, the boot now snug and secure after being properly tightened. She flexed her feet experimentally, testing the firm support of the skates.
Blair fumbled to prop her foot back up and lace up the second skate, while also shooting perplexed glances between Anissa and River. "If you sleep with him, we might be able to get out of training," Blair teased with a cheeky grin. "I slept with the last leader, Nick, and it worked with him." Her brows furrowed slightly as she tried to recall the spars. Was that the reason she got out of training? She shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t remember; it didn’t matter.
Anissa nearly choked on air, whipping her head toward Blair so fast a lock of hair fell into her face. “What?!” The word came out louder than she intended, and her hands flew up to cover her mouth, muffling the strangled laugh that broke through anyway. She shook her head hard, her shoulders shaking along with it. “Blair, for fucks’ sake, don’t say things like that out loud!”
Heat prickled her cheeks, part bourbon, part the mortifying mental image Blair had just planted in her head. Of herself and River just…going at each other. His hands roaming over her, pinning her down. And her own hands—.
No. Absolutely not. That could never happen. Not for someone like her.
Blair held up her hands innocently after finishing the bow on her second skate. "I’m not going to do it. You already have dibs. Girl code and shit."
“Right….” Anissa said, wiggling her toes inside the skates to test them one last time before standing. Of course, her new friend had to throw something outrageous like that into the air without a care in the world. Typical Blair, she figured. And yet typical Anissa too, apparently, because she leaned toward the other girl, lowering her voice but unable to stop herself from adding, “ I don’t think he’s the type you can just...” she gestured vaguely with her hands, searching for the right word, “...bargain with like that.”
Blair shrugged her shoulders. "Won’t know unless you try," she commented with a devious grin. With a determined sigh, she pushed off the seat and stood up. Surprisingly, standing on ice skates didn’t feel all that different from heels; a little wobbly, but with the right amount of calf strength, it was a no-brainer. However, she wasn’t on ice yet. She was certain her confidence would dwindle shortly. "This feels like a horrible idea," she confessed with a laugh, looking over at Anissa for some type of reassurance.
“Oh, come on, I need someone on my side here. You sound just like him,” Anissa whined, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. The bourbon gave her the courage to say it, but it also dulled the sting of the truth behind the words: that even here, River’s voice was still with her.
Her gaze fell to her gloves, and for a moment she just stared, her pout softening into something more pensive. Taking off the boots earlier had felt like shedding something unnecessary. But this…this felt far more vulnerable. Still, Blair was wobbling, and she was her friend. Wasn’t that what friends did? Take risks for each other?
She tugged at the seam of one glove with her teeth, bit by bit, testing the waters the way she always did. A bit of instinct (fear, really) whispered that bare skin meant danger. But another part of her, the tipsy part, insisted that the alcohol had her magic dulled, and anyway, Blair didn’t deserve distance right now.
Finally, the glove slipped off. Her hand felt oddly exposed in the warm air, yet it was also lighter and freer. Anissa moved her fingers once, then twice, before reaching out her hand to Blair.
“Here,” she said. “If you’re going to fall, you’re not doing it alone. I’ve got you, though.”
"Oh, we’re stripping?" Blair teased as she watched Anissa remove her gloves tentatively. She sighed, accepting that there was no backing out now. She put on a brave face with an uninhibited smile as she took the offered hand and hesitantly took her step onto the ice. And would you know, she nearly wiped out right then and there. The skate slipped out in front of her like she was wearing socks on a freshly waxed floor. Her grip on Anissa’s hand tightened as she found her balance… and the railing with her other hand.
Anissa let out a startled laugh, her own balance teetering as Blair’s weight yanked suddenly at her arm. “Blair!” she hissed through a grin, bracing herself with a quick shuffle of her skates until they both managed to balance themselves. Her pulse thrummed faster than it should have, not from fear of falling but from the awareness that this was the first time in a long time she’d offered her bare hand to anyone. Blair’s fingers were warm and alive against her palm; there was no danger lurking in her touch, no chill of the grave pressing through. A strange, giddy relief washed over her. Maybe she wasn’t as cursed as she’d always believed.
And maybe, just for tonight, she could allow herself that lie.
“You almost took us both down with you,” Anissa teased breathlessly, giving Blair’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Her smile softened as she nodded toward the blonde gliding smoothly around the rink. “See? That’s what we’re aiming for. Not… whatever that was.” She laughed again, shaking her head. “One step at a time, come on.”
"Are you sure?" Blair laughed softly, not entirely convinced that her new friend was making the best decisions. She inched her way across the ice, similar to how a child would have skated. "So, this—" Her right leg slipped out from under her, and she nearly fell a second time. She laughed nervously and shook her head before continuing. "This is how you’re supposed to find a husband?"
Anissa barked out a laugh so loud it startled even her, the sound echoing across the nearly empty rink. “Gods, if this is the test, then I’m so fucked,” she admitted, still clinging to Blair’s hand as she shuffled a few cautious steps forward. “I’m not sure flailing around like a dying fish screams ‘eligible bachelorette.’” She wobbled a little here, of course (bourbon and bravado weren’t exactly allies), but she recovered quickly, squeezing Blair’s hand again in solidarity.
"Oh, I don’t know," she mused with a playful grin. "Damsels attracted men for hundreds of years. Maybe we just need to make a big enough scene when we fall—" Blair’s grip tightened around Anissa’s hand and the railing as every shift elicited a wide-eyed tension out of fear of falling. She laughed as she regained her balance. "The River nipple to the rescue."
Anissa nearly tripped over her own skates at that one, a jolt running up her legs and fluttering straight into her chest. She whipped her head toward Blair, brown eyes wide with mock outrage even as her lips twitched with barely contained laughter.
“Don’t you dare. I think I’ve put him through enough nipple business tonight,” she warned. “So let’s make a deal. We’ll survive the night, and if anyone asks, we were graceful as swans the whole time.”
"Of course!" Blair made the drunken mistake of releasing her hold on the railing to flourish her hand in the air. "She is beauty. She is grace. She is—" Her feet were up in the air and she was splayed out across the ice before she knew up from down. Somehow, by some miracle of luck, she wasn’t flashing her bits to the entire party. However, she was definitely going to have a bruise along her left thigh in the morning. Regardless of how much it hurt or how cold the ice was, Blair let her head fall back on the ground as she roared with laughter. It could have been the alcohol. It could also be because it was the first time she had unbridled fun since she had arrived at camp that didn’t involve trying to seduce a man. In that moment, she honestly didn’t give two shits about how stupid she looked.
Anissa lunged without thinking as her friend’s feet shot skyward. For a split second, she thought she had her. Until her own skates betrayed her. The blades skittered across the slick surface, momentum yanking her forward. Her beret flew off in the scramble, tumbling onto the ice like a white flag of surrender. Then she was down, tangled with Blair in an undignified heap. The cold shot through her thin stockings, but Blair’s roaring laughter made it impossible not to join in. A helpless giggle burst from her, half at the absurdity of it all, half at the relief of not being alone in her gracelessness.
“So much for swans,” Anissa wheezed between laughs, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes with her free hand. Not that she truly cared about any of it. This was the most fun she’d had tonight since getting to the party.
"More like penguins," Blair added with a laugh. She could just imagine how much they looked like the flightless birds, the way they floundered and slid around. It felt fitting. She groaned between chuckles as she sat up, bare ass against the ice. Rather than attempting to stand up in skates again, she grabbed one of them by the blade and yanked it off. "I’m going to feel like I got hit by a train tomorrow," she chuckled, then pulled off the other skate. "How much would it take to convince you to show nipple boy a good time and get us out of training?" Blair’s smile shifted to something a little more mischievous before she brushed it off with a wave of her hand. "Kidding! I’m kidding. Don’t get your panties in a bunch."
Anissa’s laugh softened as Blair’s teasing words settled between them. She leaned back on her palms, skates stretched out in front of her, the beret still lying somewhere out of reach. The ice was cold beneath her, seeping through the thin fabric of her dress, but she hardly noticed. For once, her mind wasn’t buzzing with its usual noise—only the warmth of the alcohol and the courage it had brought with it.
“You know…” she began, her voice quieter now but still edged with humour to keep the mood from sinking completely. She tilted her head toward Blair, lips quirking into a wry, almost sheepish smile. “I’ve never actually…” She hesitated, fumbling for the right phrasing, her eyes darting away to the blonde still skating lazy circles around the rink, very far away from them at that point. “…had a good time with someone. Not like…that.”
She drew one knee up, wrapping her arms around it loosely, fingers tugging absently at the edge of her stocking. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t tried. But I’ve never…” Anissa’s voice trailed off again, snagged on some invisible line, before she shook her head as if to clear it. A small, frustrated laugh escaped her. “I’m not afraid of it! Sex, I mean. It’s just this….” Her hand fluttered vaguely in the air before dropping back to the safety of her knee.
The words knotted in her throat; even the alcohol wasn’t enough to loosen them completely. Anissa was usually so good at twisting things into a joke, but here, like this, it felt impossible. Even drunk, even warm, even laughing on the ice with someone who felt like a friend. It was all still too hard.
"There’s nothing wrong with that," Blair replied, her voice still light but with a soft seriousness that hung on her words. She reached down for the other skate and tugged at it, but it wouldn’t budge. "One of us should probably be a good influence and we both know that’s not me." She laughed at the thought of her being good. There might have been a day once, forever ago, when she was a well-behaved girl like her father would have wanted. It wasn’t like she was ashamed of herself or unhappy, but the thought sometimes came to her in the dark solitude of the night. How different she could have been, or what set her down her path. Other people probably pointed a finger at Lochlan, but she’d sooner die than humor the thought of a life without her brother. It was all water under the bridge. Blair was Blair, and there was no shame in that… Not for her.
She clumsily started tugging at the laces of her second skate. Her brows rose curiously at the way Anissa waved her hand and didn’t finish her thought. There was a part of Blair that wanted to ask, but if she wasn’t going to offer up an explanation freely, then she could wait. They could save the deep soul-searching conversations for when they weren’t freezing their ass cheeks off on the ice and drunker than they had any right to be. Plus, what was the point of a deep confession when there was a strong likelihood they’d both forget by morning.
Blair finally managed to get the other skate loose enough that she was able to pull it off. "Plus, could you imagine if we were both sluts?" She whistled quietly and raised her brows. "Someone’s gotta keep me in check. Gods know my brother doesn’t." She chuckled, thinking of the judgment he’s going to give her about the whole bar fiasco whenever they run into each other again.
Anissa huffed out a laugh, the sound muffled by the way she’d buried her chin against her knee. “Both sluts? Blair, please. The camp wouldn’t survive us.” Her tone held no real venom. If anything, a thread of envy was woven through the humour. She watched Blair yank at her skate, her own lips twitching upward despite the heavy confession she’d almost made moments before. Her eyes couldn’t help but trace the way Blair laughed at her own mischief—how she could so easily name her flaws and then shrug them off with an unapologetic grin. There was a freedom in that, a kind of lightness Anissa had never allowed herself to touch. For a brief, selfish moment, she wondered what it would feel like to be that unburdened and not to measure every single touch against the potential cost.
Shaking her head, Anissa sent the thought scattering like ice chips across the rink. “Guess I’m stuck as the designated good influence, then,” she muttered. “Not that I’m very good at it. Ask River. Or… actually, don’t. He probably still thinks his poor nipples are in danger because of me.”
"Are they not?" Blair asked with raised brows and a knowing grin. She could think of several fun ways to put a man’s nipples in danger.
Anissa groaned and tipped her head back, staring up at the dark sky as if it might swallow her whole and spare her from this conversation. But the gesture was futile; even as she tried to escape, a telltale heat crept up her neck, a flush born from equal parts bourbon and acute embarrassment. Blair’s words had conjured an image that was both utterly inappropriate and utterly unstoppable, and now it burned with startling clarity behind her eyes. Defeated, she curled forward again, pressing her forehead against the fabric of her stockings drawn tight over her knee, trying to smother the helpless grin she could no longer contain.
“They’re safe. For now….” she conceded at last, lifting her head just enough to shoot Blair a sidelong glance from beneath her lashes. “I’d like to think I won’t be that much of a menace for him.”
Yet the thought remained, unwanted and tenacious: River’s startled expression, the awkward way he’d rubbed the back of his neck, the vivid flush that had spread across his cheeks. It was all too easy to picture him again in another moment of pure, flustered shock like that, entirely at her mercy. Anissa shook her head hard, as if the physical motion could dislodge the idea from its present, persistent perch in her mind.
“Okay, you’re definitely the bad influence,” she accused, pointing a finger at Blair in faux indignation before letting her hand fall to tug at the hem of her dress nervously.
Blair’s grin only grew as she watched Anissa blush and grow flustered at her comment. She couldn’t help but laugh at the accusatory gesture and held up her hands innocently. "Gulty as charged." Her eyes squinted as she pointed her own finger back at Anissa. "But I warned you. I can’t be held accountable for your poor choice in friends."
“Maybe,” Anissa replied, the word a soft concession hanging in the air between them. “But I don’t think I chose wrong.”
Her eyes lingered, studying Blair with that strange, quiet intensity she usually reserved for the people long dead she encountered. It was a habit born from a life spent piecing together the stories of those who could no longer speak for themselves, of learning the delicate art of wrapping what was often a messy life into a narrative with a clean bow. Sometimes, her role was to help them succeed in finding that closure before… well, before their souls were ferried to wherever they were destined to go in the Underworld. And sometimes, she’d even been smart enough to pull it off.
“I’m no expert at friends,” Anissa admitted. “But people? That, I think I get. And you’re not the worst gamble I’ve ever taken.” It was the closest she would come to saying she was glad she’d taken the risk on the other girl at all because, so far, it had been worth it.
A faint but genuine smile pulled at the corner of Blair’s lips. Sure, it was a little early to say they were friends and put the rest to bed, but so far they seemed to get along well enough… And while drunk. She was always a firm believer that if people could make nice while intoxicated, then they’d be inseparable sober. They’d only be able to test that in the morning, but so far it looked promising if nothing else. "Well, I’m really hard to get rid of so buckle up," she teased with a laugh.
“Good,” Anissa murmured, not looking at Blair this time but meaning it all the same. “Because I don’t really like letting go of things once I’ve decided they’re worth keeping.”
Her fingers then worked at one skate lace, the knot holding stubbornly fast beneath her touch. She could have loosened it, kicked the skates off, and followed Blair’s lead in calling it a night. Instead, she stilled, hands hovering uselessly at her ankles. Her gaze drifted back toward the blonde skater who seemed to be finishing her routine. Which meant if she stayed, the rink would soon be empty.
Just one lap. The thought sparked and refused to fade, stoked by the natural pride that always flared whenever she felt someone doubted her capability. Before she could second-guess it, she pushed herself up onto her feet, wobbling only slightly as she stood.
“Hey, umm…I think I’m gonna stay a little longer. A minute or two.”
Blair slowly and not so gracefully got to her feet. It took a lot of wobbling and a few near splits for her to gather up her skates from wherever she threw them. Even barefoot, it seemed ice and drunk didn’t quite mix. She turned around to face Anissa with a warm, lopsided smile. "Sure." She adjusted her hold as she clutched the skates to her chest. "Want me to wait?" She asked while nodding her head toward the bench near the entrance. If she wanted to be left alone, Blair wouldn’t hover, but she’d happily watch her show off her skating prowess with envy.
Anissa’s teeth caught her lower lip for a fleeting second before she shook her head. The motion sent damp strands of hair swinging against her cheekbones, which were now darkened where melted ice had tangled with the warm night air. “Only if you want to,” she said, her voice pitched somewhere between casual and neutral. “I’ll only do a lap or two, no more.”
She wasn’t entirely sure who she was trying to convince more—Blair, who stood wobbling barefoot with her skates clutched to her chest like a life preserver, or herself. One lap sounded harmless. Achievable. And yet, her pulse thrummed a frantic rhythm as if she’d just volunteered for a high-stakes dare. The rink was quiet now, a silent, shiny oval emptied of everyone but the two of them. The thought of gliding across its smooth, deserted surface, even unsteadily, pulled at her with a temptation she couldn't quite name but no less felt.
"Ok," Blair replied with a warm, genuine smile. "I can wait." She shifted the skates in her arms a second time while her feet slowly slid apart. "I’m curious to see this ice skate seduction without me weighing you down." With a determined furrowing of her brow, Blair slipped her way across the ice, looking an awful lot like a disco ball Bambi in the process. There were a couple of times when she nearly fell again, but luckily, she seemed to be the slightest bit more coordinated barefoot than in skates.
She sighed once she was off the rink and shoved the skates back on the shelf from where she got them. Blair blinked the drunken fog from her eyes a couple of times before she was able to find her shoes. It wasn’t like a bunch was lying around, but she found it difficult to remember what she had worn now that they were off her feet. Not having the energy or motivation to attempt re-lacing her strappy heels around her legs, she scooped them up, deciding she could live barefoot for the rest of the night. She flashed Anissa a reassuring smile and a thumbs-up as she sat down on the bench, holding her shoes by their heels.
Anissa tipped her chin up, her brown eyes following Blair’s clumsy, barefoot shuffle toward the exit with a mix of amusement and, if she was honest with herself, a deep sense of gratitude. She’d come here tonight intending to open up a little more, to be present with the people around her who could surely understand her being the same as they were, and at the very least, she had managed that with a few.
The ice stretched before her, a vast, smooth expanse. Empty. Waiting.
“Alright,” she murmured under her breath, more to herself than to Blair, who was now safely perched on a bench and flashing her an encouraging thumbs-up. Anissa returned the gesture with a small wave. “Two laps. Then you’re done for sure.”
Her first push forward was clumsy, regardless of the encouragement she’d given herself. The edge of her skate snagged too deeply, forcing her into a graceless, heart-lurching wobble. Her arms flailed out, a sharp curse slipping from her lips as her balance nearly betrayed her completely. For one terrifying heartbeat, she was certain she would go sprawling across the rink in a replay of Blair’s earlier performance. But then, miraculously, some buried muscle memory—perhaps hidden beneath years of avoidance—kicked in. She steadied, and her next glide was smoother, her body remembering what her mind still doubted. She straightened her spine, chin lifting as a blend of cold and warm air rushed across her cheeks, momentum finally carrying her forward.
It wasn’t perfect by any means; her strides were uneven, her turns jerky and uncertain. Yet, the ice itself didn’t let her down. Instead, it seemed to hold her up, as if some secret pact had been struck between them without her knowledge. For the first time in a long time, Anissa felt almost unshackled. No gloves. No burden pressing against her palms. No calculating who she might hurt if she touched for too long. It was just her and the sound of her skates slicing the smooth surface, echoing in the space around her.
Halfway through the first lap, she dared a small turn. It was nothing elegant, just a quick pivot to test her limits. The blades screamed in protest against the ice, her balance teetered, and her arms windmilled wildly for a breathless second. Her heart lurched into her throat before settling again as she caught herself, stumbling into something that barely passed for control. Not dead yet, she thought, a giddy, reckless feeling surging through her, the alcohol fizzing warm in her blood. Besides, if there were ever someone who would know the instant her body hit the ice for good, it would be her. For now, this freedom was far too intoxicating to question.
But as she pushed into her second lap, Anissa’s high began to fray at the edges. A genuine burn settled deep in her thighs, a clear contrast to the pride that had been carrying her forward. Her balance, once tenuously held, now threatened to topple her with every weight shift. And then it finally happened: the edge of her skate caught against a rough patch in the ice, dragging her into an uncontrolled stumble. She hissed through her teeth, instinctively clutching her knee where it had smacked against the hard surface. The sting was immediate, though not devastating. So, a laugh bubbled up anyway, one that was entirely at her own expense too, as she shook her head in self-reproach.
“Just a scrape,” she muttered, brushing her palm over her torn tights as if she could wipe away the sting.
Gritting her teeth against the deepening ache in her legs, Anissa pushed off again. Each laboured glide carried her closer to the boards where Blair sat waiting, shoes dangling from her hand like a trophy won simply by watching. Her strides grew more uneven, fueled less by grace and more by stubborn willpower, but she refused to stop short. Another violent wobble near the final curve nearly sent her pitching forward before she surrendered to her momentum, sliding into a messy but controlled crash against the boards. Her palms hit the railing with a smack, her body tipping forward until she was half-folded over the wood, breathless but miraculously upright.
A shaky laugh broke free from her lips as she let her forehead press briefly against the boards, the simple act of reaching them feeling like a small, hard-won victory.
“See?” Anissa wheezed, her brown eyes lifting to meet Blair’s. “I’m an ice princess.”
Blair laughed softly, clapping her empty hand against the exposed wrist of her other arm. "I never should have doubted you." She stood up and walked toward the edge of the ice, holding out her hand to help Anissa off the ice. "If nipple boy saw that, he doesn’t stand a chance. I’m straight, and you nearly seduced me." Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively before she spared a glance toward the clock, noticing midnight was quickly approaching, no more than ten minutes away. "Good timing," she mused with a warm smile.
Anissa peeled herself slowly off the boards, her breath still catching in little bursts of laughter as she tried to summon enough composure to look like she hadn’t just nearly eaten shit in front of her new friend. She reached for Blair’s offered hand, her grip perhaps a little too tight as she let herself be pulled back toward the solid, reassuring ground. Then, her gaze followed Blair’s toward the large clock overlooking the rink, and her stomach gave a nervous twist.
Ten minutes until midnight.
Ten minutes until the promises and traditions she didn’t fully believe in would demand something of her. She could already picture it: champagne glasses raised in toasts, strangers pressed into impulsive kisses, vows of clean slates and new beginnings as if the arbitrary flip of a calendar could scrub away everything that had come before. Anissa didn’t believe in any of that. Life, in her experience, had never been so simple. Fresh starts weren’t something you could summon from the champagne-soaked air; they were hard, gruelling things you had to carve out for yourself.
Her knees still trembled slightly from the exertion on the ice, a dull ache and the sting of her fall still singing a persistent rhythm in her thigh.
“You're such a fucking liar, by the way,” Anissa said, the words slipping out on a grin as she sat to give her legs a break and wrestle with the laces of her skates. “But I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
Blair snorted, pressing her hand to her chest with feigned offence. "I never lie," she replied with a smirk as she leaned back against the railing. "Although I can tell when other people are lying," she added while holding up her index finger. "Maybe not while drunk." A soft laugh escaped her lips as she tucked loose, messy strands of hair behind her ear.
Her smile faded slightly as she looked back toward the party, the realization sinking in that it was unlikely she’d have a New Year’s kiss for the first time in years… Unless she randomly grabbed someone and planted one on them. While that definitely sounded like something she’d do, there was a smaller part of her that wanted to be pursued. She was always the dominant one who took charge and approached whomever she pleased. She had been told more than once that she was intimidating, and so far, that track record persisted through her time at camp. Looking around at who remained and thinking back on how the only time she got a fraction of a glance was Baxter admiring her dress or the show on the bar, it seemed increasingly likely she’d drunkenly stumble back to her cabin alone, sans a kiss. She sighed. That’s fucking depressing.
Anissa continued to work at the knots in her laces, her fingers fumbling clumsier than usual thanks to the effects of the alcohol. Still, Blair’s words drew a crooked smile from her despite herself, though the ends of it faltered when she caught the other girl’s sigh.
“Well, lucky for you, I’m a terrible liar,” she said, her gaze dropping back to her half-undone skate. But then she paused, her fingers stilling on the lace as a cold prickle of realization ran through her. It wasn't completely true. She had, in fact, told her mother what was probably the biggest lie of her entire life. And it wasn't an isolated incident. Because of the way she’d been treated when she had tried to tell the truth, she’d ended up lying to many people in her life, building a fortress of half-truths and omissions for her own protection. So, would her flippant comment now register to Blair, with her uncanny perception, as just another one of those lies?
The thought was too uncomfortable to leave unaccounted for.
“Okay… that may not be the whole truth,” Anissa admitted gently. “My mom doesn’t exactly know why I’m really here. All this demigod stuff, I mean.” She added the clarification almost as an afterthought, a safety measure.
Blair crossed her right ankle over her left a little clumsily but managed not to fall over, just wobbled a little. "Really? Your mom has no clue at all?" Her brows tugged together with a confused curiosity. "Gods, it would be so much easier if my dad didn’t know… Considering the cluster fuck that is my family." She laughed softly. It was hard to imagine a life where her dad looked at Lochlan with the same amount of love and adoration he gave her. They both definitely wouldn’t be at camp if that were the case. Hell, she and Lochlan could have been entirely different people, well-behaved, virtuous, well-rounded. It was hard to imagine, but the thought of her brother as a paragon of a well-bred son was funny. But this was their life, for better or worse.
“Yeah. No clue,” Anissa confessed. She leaned back on her palms, tilting her face up toward the lights overhead as though they might hold an easier truth than the one she’d just shared. “She thinks I’m studying abroad, chasing some normal degree. I don’t even think she cared which one, really. As long as I was somewhere sunny and safe and that she finally had a normal daughter she could brag about to all her rich girlfriends instead of….” Her lips twitched into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, instead of a lot of things.”
She lifted her hand and flexed her fingers, staring for a second at her own skin as if expecting something dangerous to bleed through the surface if she thought about it for too long.
“Trust me… maybe it’s good your dad knows. At least it’s out in the open.” She let her hand fall back to her lap, the momentary tension leaving her shoulders. “For me? It was… so hard seeing her happy and proud of the life she thought I was living, and knowing that if she ever found out the real story, it would break her heart.”
And deep down, Anissa knew it would have broken even more than that.
"Rich people suck," Blair admitted with a weak laugh, knowing full well she fell into the aforementioned category. She lightly clicked the heels of her shoes together in her hands as she got lost in thought for a long moment. "It’d be better for my brother if my dad didn’t know," she confessed with a sigh. It wasn’t until the alcohol loosened her lips that she realized she never spoke about that part of her family with anyone but Lochlan. Now it was out in the open, and it wasn’t like she could backpedal. But maybe it was good… Friends shared secrets, right?
Blair cleared her throat, adjusting herself so her right elbow rested on the cool metal of the railing. "My dad was a pawn of the Gods’ selfish whims." Her gaze fell to the silver stilettos in her hands as she tried to find the words. "He was with Athena first. Loved her, had me." She shrugged her shoulders like that part was normal for most of the demigods at camp. "But Hera—" Her gaze drifted toward the sky like she was waiting to be smited for speaking ill of a Goddess. "—Is jealous and vindictive. She appeared to my dad looking like Athena, and well… Then Lochlan arrived. My father is a good person, but he took his pain out on my brother, which isn’t fair to him."
She sucked in a sharp breath, pushing off the railing with wide eyes. "Fuck. I need to be careful drinking or I’ll spill all of my secrets." Blair laughed awkwardly as a faint redness deeper than the natural flush from alcohol flooded her cheeks.
“Guess that makes two of us,” Anissa murmured. She let the silence hang between them for a moment, just long enough to show she’d truly heard Blair’s words, before adding, “You don’t have to apologize for saying it. Your secret’s safe with me. Secrets have a way of eating you up inside anyway. Trust me, I know.” Her brown eyes flicked toward Blair, a spark of genuine solidarity breaking through the pleasant haze of alcohol.
Blair shrugged her shoulders and tucked loose hair behind her ears as she looked at a chip in the ice. "Anyone with two brain cells could piece it together… But it’s different saying it out loud, you know?" Her brows furrowed as she looked over and met Anissa’s gaze.
Anissa nodded her head. “ I get it. And besides… a god being jealous and vindictive?” She shook her head, a dry, knowing smirk touching her lips. “That’s the least surprising thing I’ve heard all night regarding those…beings. Sounds like your dad didn’t stand a chance.”
Her gaze held on Blair for another beat, thoughtful and assessing, before she finally looked away toward the rink’s glossy, abandoned surface. “For what it’s worth… I think your brother’s lucky you see him the way you do. Not everyone gets someone willing to stand in their corner, no matter what.”
"Hmm," she mused, mulling over Anissa’s words. "I think I give him migraines more than anything," Blair teased with a soft laugh, attempting to lighten the heaviness that weighed on their conversation. "He’s the reason I’m here. Dad wanted to send him away, and I said, ‘If he goes, I go too.’" She pursed her lips in thought as the conversation replayed in her mind behind a drunken fog. She remembered her Dad’s anger as he tried to convince her to think rationally, but she and Lochlan were inseparable since they were children. Nothing he could say or do would change that, even if it was military school… Thank the Gods it wasn’t military school. Although she was quickly realizing Camp might as well be with all the training. "Jury’s still out if I made the right decision," she added with a playful smile.
“Well, of course you made the right choice, else we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” Anissa teased. Then, her own curiosity got the better of her, her hands finally managing to untie the laces of her skates. “What does that feel like anyway? To catch someone in a lie? Is it like a gut thing?”
"Um." She puffed out a small breath as she thought. "Yeah I guess," Blair answered not very convincingly. "It’s kind of like a tickle in the back of my head and a twisting in my gut. Like the world is telling me ‘nope.’" She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. It wasn’t a very good explanation, but it really was just like an instinct. If she overthought it, then she could be wrong, but if she just went on her first instinct, she was always right.
Anissa pulled the slackened skate off her foot, her brow knitting as she listened and turned the description over in her mind.
“A tickle and a twist? Interesting,” she said, her tone light but probing. She set the skate neatly at her side and pulled her other leg up onto the bench, resting her chin on her knee as she absorbed the idea.
The explanation made sense in its own strange yet poetic way. It reminded her of her own “gut” moments—those flashes of intuition or dread she’d never been able to explain well to anyone else. The kind that sometimes arrived hand-in-hand with visions she couldn’t control, leaving her shaken and certain of things she shouldn’t know. Maybe that shared sense of inexplicable knowing was why she didn’t shrug it off. Instead, she tilted her head, watching Blair with a new, searching kind of interest.
“But I get it. Sometimes your body knows before your brain does, right? Like the air shifts, or the light changes in a certain way, and you can’t explain why, but you just… know.” Anissa gave a little shrug, suddenly self-conscious with her own comparison, and tugged absently at her torn stocking with her fingers. “I guess that’s not so different from me.”
Her words trailed off there, leaving the “me” deliberately open-ended. Whether she meant her cryptic powers, her instincts, or simply the lonely ways she’d always felt out of sync with the world around her, she didn’t clarify. And perhaps she didn’t need to with someone as smart as she suspected Blair was. She was a daughter of Athena after all.
"Yeah… I don’t know if it’s an ability, per se." Blair tilted her head to the side, recalling the number of times she and Lochlan cheated at poker. She always had a natural gift at noticing the faintest shift in body language, tension along the shoulders, slight pursing of the lips, or the increased subtle pulsing of their jugular. It was almost like she had a deep understanding of the silent language spoken with one’s body versus their tongue. Although there were tells through vocal inflection as well. "I think it’s more like being fluent in body language." She shrugged her shoulders as if that somehow explained it better than her tingles and twists.
"Maybe that’s why you let me kidnap you." She laughed softly, smiling with a soft warmth. "Kindred spirits and all that." Blair rolled her eyes, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. Fate, karma, and all that mystical shit was far-fetched. It was usually people grasping at answers when sometimes shit just happened for no other reason than life sucks. She was never the type of person to think there was a deeper meaning behind everything, but she wasn’t complaining about whatever butterfly effect led them to each other. It seemed like both women needed an understanding friend.
“Please. If you hadn’t dragged me along, I probably would’ve ended up sulking in a corner until midnight, pretending I wasn’t.” Okay, so she might have been exaggerating a little. At worst, she would have gotten stuck talking to Sylas longer, and then… well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she would’ve done after that. Maybe she would have gone to check on River anyway as a fulfillment of her promise to him.
She finally managed to untie and pull off the second skate, setting it beside the first with a soft thud. “Speaking of midnight,” Anissa said, glancing up at Blair, “Any plans on how you want to bring in the new year?” She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “I told River not to bring it in alone, and that goes for you, too.”
Blair puffed up her cheeks with a soft exhale. Even with the copious amounts of alcohol rushing through her veins, she had enough wherewithal to keep the sadness that loomed at the approaching New Year’s close to her chest. "Oh, I don’t know." She shrugged her shoulders, then scanned the various campers that lingered around the party. "May steal a kiss from a hot guy. Might just bug my brother. Haven’t really decided."
Anissa tilted her head, her brown eyes glinting with sly humour as she rose from the bench to grab her boots. “Well, it’s really too bad you said you were straight,” she quipped. “Otherwise, I might’ve offered my services. Strictly professional, of course.” The joke came out easy, breezy, as if she were casually tossing it away, but the faint redness rising in her cheeks betrayed her more than she would have liked.
"Just because I’m straight doesn’t mean I haven’t kissed a girl before," Blair added, stepping up to the challenge as she rested her hands on her hips.
Anissa froze mid-bend, her boot dangling from her fingers. “Oh?” she drawled, a slow, intrigued smile touching her lips. “Ok… I’ll have to strike ‘professional only’ from the record, then.”
She slipped back onto the bench, tugging at the boot half-heartedly before groaning under her breath. The laces seemed to mock her, twisted into a stubborn puzzle she no longer had the patience or coordination to solve. With a sharp exhale, she dropped the boot beside her with a soft thud, opting instead to wiggle her toes inside her stockings.
“Still, guess that means you’ll just have to make do with kissing the hot guy or the brother,” Anissa added, trying to cover her previous verbal fumble. But almost as soon as the words left her mouth, Anissa shook her head. “Oh, that didn’t come out right. You know what I meant!”
Blair laughed awkwardly. "Yeah... No Game of Thrones shit in our household." She scanned the party again, this time looking for Lochlan. Surprisingly, she found him making some kind of move on Evelyn. So, no brother then. Knowing how close midnight was, she resolved to disappear during the toast chaos and stumble her way back to her cabin. Anissa didn’t need to know, and she could lie about kissing Baxter or something. He seemed forgetful enough to fall for the lie himself. Or maybe she’ll fess up to it in the morning. Who knows.
“Gods, thank you for clarifying. I thought I was gonna have to find the nearest cliff to swan-dive off of,” Anissa replied, the relief in her voice unmistakable. She pushed herself up from the bench for the last time, her boots clutched in one hand. “Do you wanna get going now, then? Not gonna find any hot guys here.”
Did she want to? No, not really. The only lips she could think to kiss were nowhere to be found, and Blair didn’t feel like third wheeling whatever the fuck her brother was doing. But, nevertheless, a warm smile crossed her face. "Sure. Maybe I’ll go bug the crazy bartender," she mused with a slight shrug before slipping through the gate. She spun around, the warmth of her bare feet melting the dusting of snow beneath her toes. "Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… Although that doesn’t mean much." She laughed and stumbled backwards a step, but quickly recovered.
It didn’t take her long to fumble her way back to the bar and slip back onto the stool she had been sitting on before. Her gaze drifted to the various liquors laid out in front of her, all of them distinctly turning her stomach rather than piquing her appetite. Blair leaned forward slightly, letting her elbows rest on the edge of the counter with a sigh. She looked at the clock once more. Five minutes. She could last that long. Her gaze drifted back to Baxter, who hadn’t moved from his self-appointed role. "Miss me?" she asked with a laugh and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
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