Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Prickly Prompts - 8. #805 - Resolution #3
Prompt 805 - Creative
Sitting on the couch with a bag of frozen peas on my knee was not what I had in mind with my not New Year’s resolutions:
#1. Do more sports; #2. Finally use the damned guy/eyeliner and mascara I bought myself for Christmas.
I angrily kicked the scuffed pair of skates laying by my feet. ”Ouch!”
“It’s super easy, Daniel. Like riding a bike. You can’t unlearn skating.” Pat had scoffed my doubts away. “After a few minutes of getting used to it, you’ll be elegantly gliding over the ice again; like you always did when we were teens.” I could still hear my best friend’s voice in my mind. I’m going to kill her.
They were playing all those romantic songs for the couples skating effortlessly hand in hand. When "Is This Love?" by Whitesnake started, something nice and slow and just right for stumbling me, I let go of the banister, and took my first step, ready to impress Pat’s hunky brother with my mad skillz, and ‘bam’, I landed on my ass. Not one to be easily discouraged, I got up and tried again. And again.
The next time I landed on my behind, something broke. I crawled back to the banister with as much dignity as I had left, pulled myself up, and fished the little leather case with my new make-up mirror out of my pants’ back pocket. It was smashed. My first thought was: Shit! Seven years of bad luck. I wasn’t superstitious but enough was enough. Wobbling over to the gap in the banister, I had only one goal. To go home. Finally on solid ground, I took a big step, and my skate caught a corner of the rubber mat. I landed on my bad knee. Outside of the rubber of course.
To hell with resolutions. No sports. No makeup. One gaze into the mirror in the ice rink's bathroom had me cured. Everything was smeared. I looked like a panda bear.
“Here you go.” I snuggled into the warm blanket Leo wrapped around my shoulders. “The hot cocoa is in the works.”
#3. Getting Leo Bach to see me.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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