who: @hattie-mayonnaise where: roller rink
Adrian wasn’t a roller skating guy. He wasn’t a roller anything guy, honestly. But after a week of deadlines at The Lucerna, family expectations breathing down his neck, and his staff insisting he "do something fun for once," he found himself walking into the retro rink with a pair of rental skates slung over his shoulder. The place was straight out of the 90s. Sticky floors. Blinding neon. A disco ball that spun like it was fighting for its life. And the DJ, a man who took requests with the seriousness of a heart surgeon, had just blasted “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire. Adrian huffed a laugh under his breath. Somehow, this worked. He was tightening the laces on his rental skates, slowly, suspiciously, as if they might spontaneously injure him, when someone bumped lightly into his shoulder. He straightened, ready to offer one of his usual dry remarks, only for the words to die halfway up his throat.
Hattie.
She looked exactly like someone who belonged in a place like this; bright-eyed, easy-smiled, glowing under the pink LED lights in a way that made the whole rink seem a little less ridiculous. "Figures," Adrian said, voice low and warm with that familiar teasing edge. "The one night I decide to risk my life on wheels, I run into the girl who told me I was boring." His gaze swept her skates, her outfit, the effortless comfort she had in a place like this. He shook his head lightly, a small smile pulling at his mouth. "This where you come to make the rest of us look bad?" He paused, leaning back on the bench with a quiet exhale. "Be honest with me Hattie, are you actually good at this? Because I’m about to embarrass myself publicly, and if you laugh, I’m suing."
