Lessons in Love by Clarissa Carlyle

stepped down first, effortlessly making the transition from solid to slippery ground. Alex inhaled nervously before gently stepping forwards, placing her first foot down.
     
    “Don’t be scared,” Mark reassured her. “It’s much easier on the ice, I promise.” 
     
    Around them much younger skaters eagerly entered the rink before zooming off, turning, skating backwards and even doing jumps. Alex felt completely out of her depth. However, under Mark’s guidance she felt brave enough to step out onto the ice. He’d been wrong; it wasn’t easier. It was actually much more perilous.
     
    Alex’s feet both wobbled frantically beneath her, threatening to buckle and send her crashing to the cold floor, but Mark instinctively grabbed both her arms and held her facing him. Then he started to gently skate backwards, guiding her with him. The further they went from the edge, the more anxious Alex became.
     
    “Can we stay by the rails?” she asked nervously.
     
    “Just relax, Alex. It’s okay.”
     
    “I don’t like how it feels,” Alex admitted. Towards the center of the rink they were circled by more experienced skaters, who weaved around the rink with ease. Alex watched them, admiring their graceful movements, but it also made her much more self-conscious of her own lack of experience.
     
    “You’re doing great,” the teacher in Mark told her confidently.
     
    “No, I’m not!” Alex scoffed.
     
    “You’re overthinking it.” Mark ceased skating so they were motionless. A static couple among a sea of moving skaters.
     
    “You just need to relax and trust me.” Mark looked deep into her eyes, as if trying to show her his soul and his sincerity. “As long as you hold onto me, you won’t fall.”
     
    “But what if you fall?” Alex challenged.
     
    “You’re a pessimist, you know that?” Mark laughed. “I won’t fall. I haven’t fallen on the ice since I was seven.”
     
    “What happened when you were seven?” Alex enquired.
     
    “You don’t want to know.”
     
    “Yes, I do.”
     
    “Okay, well, I fell pretty bad and broke both wrists and split my chin open.” He noticed how Alex paled at the description of the accident.
     
    “I said that you wouldn’t want to know!”
     
    “Sounds painful,” Alex muttered nervously. As they’d been talking, Mark had commenced skating, and now her feet were moving forwards in a straight continuous line, rather than flailing beneath her. She was skating, and she hadn’t even noticed!
     
    “I’m doing it!” Alex declared joyously.
     
    “Ready for me to let go?” Mark asked. The thought of losing her security terrified Alex, and she lunged forward, clinging to him.
     
    “Don’t go!” she commanded him. Now with no distance between them, they were locked in an embrace. Alex thought that Mark might push her away, insisting that they might be seen, but he continued to hold her there, tightly in his arms, as they skated around.
     
    The other skaters began to melt away until it felt like they were the only ones there. A melody of the latest pop music was playing over the loudspeakers. Some of the songs Alex recognized from hearing in the corridors at school. It had been years since she last bought a CD or downloaded a song. She never got to hear anything new for long enough to decide if she liked it. There was a radio in the trailer, but Andy had set it to a rock music station, and Jackie had warned Alex about changing it.
     
    Alex missed hearing new music, finding new sounds that she could relate to. Music was always the soundtrack to anyone’s life, and she feared that her own soundtrack really should belong to someone much older. But then she felt old. When her father died, she instantly ceased being a child.
     
    “How are you finding it?” Mark asked as they skated around. They were so close that Alex could feel his heart beating in his chest, even through the green sweater he was wearing. It was beating fast.
     
    “It’s not