Ice Skating Romance Books Novels & Stories

Kai closed the distance between us like the ice wasn’t even there, skating boots clicking against the boards as he stepped off. His jersey was damp, hair sticking up where the helmet had pressed it down, and there was still a faint smear of blood at the corner of his mouth from that high stick. “Isla.” His voice was low, almost careful, like we weren’t standing in the middle of a post-game free-for-all. “You came.” My pulse did that stupid stutter again. “Sarah dragged me.”

No. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "You did not let me finish." _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "The answer is still no." _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> I sit on the edge of her bed and look at her directly, which she hates, because Silver Preston is deeply uncomfortable with being looked at by anyone who is not judging her on technical merit. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "You limp every morning," I say. "You have not been to the rink since you snuck into Ingalls three weeks ago. You deflect every time anyone mentions skating with the specific energy of someone who is terrified of the answer they might get."

Confetti cannons fire again, silver and blue raining over them. Lucien and Adrian skate in circles behind them, yelling incoherently. Rylan rises to his feet. Lira barely has time to smile before he pulls her into him, laughter spilling between them. The team surrounds them, chanting. Students stamp their feet. Cameras flash without mercy. “The team scores again,” the commentator declares. Rylan rests his forehead briefly against hers, his breath warm despite the cold air. “You are impossible,” she murmurs. “And you say yes.” She glances down at the ring, then back at him.

The morning began like any other, Bella rushing through her small Parisian apartment, tugging on a blouse while balancing her coffee, her mind already running through Alexander’s schedule. For weeks, she had grown accustomed to the rhythm of their secret world: late-night dinners in hidden corners, stolen touches in the office, his hand brushing hers when no one watched. The Ice King had melted just for her. Yet that morning, the universe seemed determined to shatter. It started with a phone call.

“That’s because it is.” I pressed my forehead against his. Our noses touching. Breathing the same air. “We could both be doing what we love,” I said. “At the same time. In the same direction. You on ice. Me on the page. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.” “You really believe that?” “I believe the girl who writes at midnight and the boy who skates like the ice was invented for him are allowed to have both. I believe we’ve earned that.” He kissed me. Soft. Just his lips on mine, no urgency, no hunger. A seal on something. A promise made with mouths instead of words because words were what other people used and we’d always been better at the languages that didn’t require them.

I pushed off the boards, skating back out toward the center red line with long, aggressive strides. I dug my blades into the ice, forcing myself into a sprint, my breath coming in ragged, freezing plumes as I pushed through the throbbing ache in my left shoulder. I wanted to forget. I wanted to mentally erase the entire semester—the scripts, the cameras, the soft, betraying curve of her lips under the diner neon. I crossed the blue line, throwing my weight into a sharp, leaning turn. My skates cut deep into the surface, but as I balanced on the edge, a sudden, vivid memory flashed behind my eyelids with the force of a physical blow.

Me screaming for help, for someone to call an ambulance. And Pierce, skating right past me. Not stopping. Not helping. Just scooping Madison into his arms and carrying her off the ice like she was the one who needed saving. Like I didn't even exist. My hands clenched into fists in my lap. "Scarlett?" Pierce's voice sounded far away. "What do you think? Want to hit the ice sometime this week?" "No." The word came out harsher than I intended. Pierce glanced at me, surprised. "No? But you love skating. It's your whole life."

The moment the lock clicked, his dark amber eyes snapped up, locking onto mine through the dim light. “Noah,” he rasped out, his voice thick, rough, and low. I did not answer with words. I dropped my helmet onto the floorboards. The heavy rubber skates hit the rug in long, fast strides as I closed the distance between us. I threw my arms around his broad neck, hauling my weight up. Adrian caught me without flinching. His large, calloused hands slammed over my hips, dragging my lower body flush against his bare chest, lifting me clean off the floorboards.

I roll my eyes. “Oh! I know! We should watch Twilight!” Ilayda says. “What part of ‘no romance’ didn’t you get Illy?” Adelina retorts. “Well, I don’t consider it a romance.” “Yes, it is. It’s about a sparkly fucking vampire that wants to mate with a human girl! Of course, it’s a romance!” I rub my temples, trying to head off the headache I knew was coming with Ilayda and Adelina’s bickering. I swear they are like water and oil when you get them together in the same room.

The whole place seemed deserted unlike the usual way a skating rink would be packed with both adults and children. However, Vivian's eyes was glued onto the spacious snow white ice rink, it wasn't winter and this particular rink was artificial but at the moment one couldn't tell. Nevertheless that wasn't what was on Vivian's mind at the moment as she gazed over at Sebastian's broad back in bemusement. How could there be two coincidences in a single night? When she was younger during the times she used to exchange letters with Brian, she had once mentioned to him that her ideal first date would be spending a romantic night skating. Back then she used to be so fascinated by the idea of a roman