ice skating slip-ups.

He had said 5:30pm, right?

Angel waited impatiently on her couch, waiting for George's hand to drum against her apartment door.

He was meant to be there 10 minutes ago.

Had she gotten the day wrong? The time wrong?

George wouldn't have stood her up, he wasn't the type to do that. Besides, he invited her out in the first place.

All she could do is wait, they hadn't exchanged phone numbers yet, she had no way of finding out where he was. That was, if he was coming.

Winnie jumped onto the couch beside Angel, settling into the velvet cushions with a gentle purr, what made him change his mind?

Something probably came up.

Angel grabbed the handle of her bag, slinging it onto her shoulder before heading towards her front door. If he wasn't coming to her, she'd come to him.

She had been looking forward to ice skating with George all night, she had quickly grown to love spending time with the brunette.

The way he made her feel was indescribable. A sweet candy treat, which now has a sour aftertaste.

Her first thought was to go to the library, though the which boy stood outside her door relinquished that thought instantly.

George stood with a dusted blush across his cheeks, an apologetic look on his face.

"You're late," Angel stepped back into her apartment, inaudibly inviting him inside for the time being.

The feeling of relief and happiness overwhelmed the emotions she had felt prior to his arrival. He turned up.

He didn't hate her.

The sour taste subsided, and back returned the sweetness of his smile.

"I knocked on your neighbours door," George laughed with a hint of embarrassment, his encounter with Angel's elderly neighbour replaying in his head, "She was not happy to see me,"

"Well, lucky for you," Angel smiled gently, combing her fingers delicately through George's dishevelled hair, "I'm happy to see you,"

She styled it to the left, like he always had it.

"What's wrong with my hair?" George questioned self consciously, meeting his own chocolate eyes in Angel's mirror by the door, "Oh, hat hair,"

"Nothing anymore, I fixed it,"

"You ready?" George questioned, conscious of the time they had already wasted.

Angel brushed past George's shoulder to step out into the corridor, waiting for George to follow, "I have been ready for ten minutes. I thought you had stood me up,"

George unhooked Angel's coat from the rack before closing her apartment door, holding the puffed fabric in a tight grip.

"On our first date? You think so low of me," he jogged to catch up with Angel who was already waiting near the staircase, "I was thinking of taking your neighbour ice-skating instead,"

George extended his arm towards Angel, handing her the coat she had forgotten to grab.

"I don't think Claire is much of an ice-skater," she smiled at him gratefully, slipping the beige coat on whilst 'on our first date' lingered on her mind.

They had both said 'It's a date' yesterday, but did he mean it?

Did she mean it?

"First date?" Angel's tone was quieter, the joking tone leaving her voice. George looked back at her with a confused glance, "Is this a real date?"

Panic flashed through George at Angel's words, did he read her wrong? Was she not interested him at all?

"Do you want it to be?" George asked, hopeful in the fact she had somewhat of an interest in him.

If he lost her, his heart would crumble like hard candy.

Broken into small, impossible to clean up, pieces.

Angel shrugged, "Kinda,"

She wanted nothing more than for it to be a date.

George beamed, hiding his smile behind his arm, holding open the door to Angel's apartment block as she walked under his arm, Then it's a date," it was all in his head.

It wasn't snowing today.

Only ice and sludge snowy sludge covered the city of London, tracks of car tires and rigid shoe soles moulded in the ice

"Not the most romantic, is it?" Angel tugged on her coat as they walked down the steps, a thin smile on her rested lips, "Bruising our bodies on ice repetitively,"

Spending time with her was a gift in it's self, it didn't matter how painful it could be.

"I'll take you on a better date, how about that?" George proposed, ruffling her hair as he steered her towards the crossing, "No falling on ice involved,"

"You don't seem like the fancy restaurant type of guy,"

"Hm? What type of guy am I then?" he hummed, curious to what her perception of him was and how accurate she was.

She was right, he hated fancy events. He was a simple guy, a movie date on the couch was equal, if not better, than a date in an expensive restaurant.

But, if Angel was a fancy restaurant person, he'd learn to be one too.

"The type of guy to have a picnic date in the library," George thought it was accurate, though rather specific.

Either it was something she had dreamt of, or a joke George was missing.

"Is that a compliment?" he questioned, stepping into the line outside of the ice-rink. It was a reasonably short line, since everybody went earlier in the day.

Angel stared up at the string of lights, her eyes catching the sparkle of the luminescence.

She tore her eyes away from the lights, gently raising an eyebrow at his response, "Have you?"

They shuffled forward as more and more people got dismissed into the rink, shortening the line even more.

"I haven't,"

"Good, I want to be your first library picnic date," Angel smiled with hopeful eyes, fearing George would hate the idea of her dream date.

That he'd find it ridiculous.

He didn't, he loved the idea in fact.

George quickly paid for two adult tickets, collecting the two pairs of pale blue ice-skates as well as his receipt.

"I'll pay you back some day, George," Angel promised, following the taller brunette to the benches, "I didn't know it costed that much,"

George would pay millions to see Angel smile, pay millions to spend time with her. Fifteen pounds was nothing compared to what he was willing to pay.

"Don't worry about it, Angel," he laughed, dropping down onto the plastic bench and holding the smaller skates out for Angel, "Put them on,"

Soon enough, they had both slipped on and securely tied up their ice-skates, both waddling on thin blades towards the pool of ice.

Angel wrapped her fingers around George's arm, using his body to stabilise herself somewhat. Her hand left a burning sensation on his arm, though it didn't linger for long.

Nor did Angel.

Her hand was removed from his arm, clutching onto the banister that wrapped around the plexiglas arena.

She shuffled away from the entrance, too afraid to give even give ice-skating a chance. George smiled at her attempts of walking on ice, chipping away the ice into fine powder.

"You were right about not being good at ice-skating," he laughed, trying to peel her hands away from the banister, but her grip was too strong, "You suck,"

"Stop! George! I'm not letting go!" Angel shrieked, tightening her impossible grip on the metal banister, turning her fingertips a pale white.

He held her wrists gently, showing that she could trust him, that he wasn't going to let her fall, "Let go, just trust me,"

Angel looked him in the eyes, seeing the honesty and care in his chocolate brown eyes. She let go of the bar, instead holding onto his hand tightly.

"Don't let me fall, George,"

He wouldn't let her fall.

In one swift movement, George gathered enough momentum to pull the two of them along the ice, thin blades gliding against compact ice.

George took longer and long strokes, one foot after the other. He brought his right foot back in, next to the left and zigzagged.

All Angel could do was smile, smile against the feeling of crisp air against her face and the warmth holding tightly onto her hand.

Pure bliss was the easiest description.

"See," George smiled after turning a sharp corner, "You're safe,"

He spoke too soon.

Angel's steel blade knocked against George's, throwing off his rhythm and his balance.

He managed to catch himself, almost forgetting Angel's inability to stay balanced on ice. Almost.

George's hands landed firmly around Angel's waist, catching her before she could crash down into the ice.

Her arms looped around his neck for support, holding onto him with hope he'd pull the two of them up.

Her breath was hot against his face, brushing against his lips impossibly close.

George feared she could feel the heat rushing up his neck as he became flustered by their close proximity.

Angel only smiled, a rosy blush dusted across her cheeks and nose. Her cherry lips looked like they tasted like sugar and cinnamon, a blend George was yet to try.

A familiar voice broke the two apart immediately, two blonde boys leant over the ice-rink's glass fence with a beaming grin.

"George!"

Oh em gee who is it!!