Free Burn the Brightest by Erin Sheppard Page B

girl with nice eyes, even if it was a bit of a cliché.
    "Okay," Jo said. "I just thought I'd say hello, but I can—"
    "Tara told you I'd be here, right?" Edith asked, annoyed suddenly at Jo's attempt to make this look like an accident, and even more annoyed at Tara for doing this after Edith had asked her not to.
    "What? No, I haven't talked to her since the party." Jo looked honestly surprised, but Edith wasn't ready to be fooled.
    "Right. It's pure coincidence that you happened to be at my rink, the same time I'm always here, even though you've got your own perfectly good rink at Annapolis."
    "Actually, it is," Jo said. "But, hey, don't let me get in the way of that superiority thing you've got going on. Excuse me." She stepped round Edith without touching her, and then onto the ice, where she pushed away in a long, smooth line across the corner of the rink.
    Edith watched her do laps for a minute, irritation warring with contrition and losing, and then shrugged it off. There were enough people on the rink that they could ignore each other, and even if she was wrong, which she wasn't convinced of, what did it matter?
    She stepped out onto the ice herself, took a chilled breath, and pushed away, losing herself in the easy slide of her skates over ice. At least until she looked up and saw Jo on the other side of the rink, skating backward, her hands behind her back as she laughed at something a man in suit pants and a sweatshirt was saying. She didn't even look like she was thinking about what her feet were doing, easy as walking and twice as smooth. Edith shook her head, concentrating on her own feet, gliding round the curve of the rink and adding a little hop at the end.
    Next time she looked over, Jo had moved away from the man and was skating fast. Edith let herself drift to a stop, just in time to watch Jo execute an effortless jump, landing on one knee, sliding for a long moment, and then pushing up, turning, and speeding backward into a smooth curve.
    "Navy," she told herself firmly, and pushed away again.
    It didn't help. She seemed to have developed a sixth sense of Jo, and every time she looked across the rink, her eyes caught sight of Jo immediately. Even just skating laps, she was better than most of the people there—better than Edith, who liked to think she was pretty good, but not like that. Not someone people stopped to watch.
    When the bell for the end of the session rang, Edith cut a line across the rink to stop where Jo was already pulling off her skates. She looked up when Edith let her skate slam into the board a little harder than usual. "That was nice skating," Edith offered.
    Jo's expression wavered for a moment, like she was thinking about still being annoyed with Edith, and then settled into a smile. "Thanks. You're not bad yourself."
    Edith shrugged one shoulder. "Sorry about before."
    "Make it up to me—buy me a coffee," Jo suggested, her smile changing in some way that Edith couldn't put her finger on.
    Edith felt all of her earlier ease drain out. "I have class in an hour."
    "Oh," Jo said. "Well, another time. I'll give you my number, and we can—"
    "I don't think so," Edith dismissed, pushing away to glide to the other exit before Jo could say anything else.
    "Hi," a female voice said behind Edith.
    She turned, expecting it to be another lecturer, or maybe an exceptionally forward undergrad. Instead, she found herself once more face-to-face with Jo. This time Jo was in black pants and a green top, similar to the mix of students and staff who'd stayed on to discuss the open lecture.
    "Before you yell at me again," Jo started, "I knew you'd be here, but I'm not here because of that. I came to hear the lecture. That's all."
    "Okay," Edith said, not totally sure if she believed her or not. "And you stuck around because you find university mixers endlessly fascinating?"
    Jo laughed, and Edith couldn't quite help her answering smile. "Actually, I was hoping Tara might be here. She asked Dan to