chelsea piers 04∙10∙2017
The thin line her lips folded into perked up when he made his very typical Ezra comment, telling her just how cute he was. He really was the biggest pain in her ass, but she loved him, and to her that was something that she couldn't just let go or part with. "The only reason I even stick around is because you're nice to look at first thing in the morning when the rest of the world looks like monsters from the swamp.

They had a lot of history, in parts good and bad. They had chemistry that others could only dream of having naturally and it was something that she really didn't know how to process losing. If they didn't have all of those elements, maybe it would have been easier to let go and start over with someone else, the same being said for him. It just couldn't happen. With clear heads and hearts that hurt, they both wanted it to work at the end of the day, which is exactly why she even agreed to letting him bring her somewhere, a place with this much sentimental value and nostalgia.

Whenever he made a reach for her hand, she flinched, pulling away without having to blink. It's so instinctual, like breathing, the way he moves to try and grasp her fingers and link them with his, and for nearly three years she allowed it, only protesting to play the role of a tease or cunt, doing it to piss him off or get a reaction out of him, if only when there's a smile graced upon her lips like the sweetest tasting strawberry glazed over skin. It's different. That might be a cheap way of putting it, but it's real and it's a good descriptor because it's neither bad or good, an upgrade from a week spent with only negative and exhaustive feelings circling inside.

Right now it's strange and a little foreign in the way he wants to touch her. Rose laughs, though, which has to be a relief to him because it is to her. It feels good to not cry or feel numb to all of this anymore. Breathing a long snicker or giggle makes it all worthwhile and serve as evidence that there is something worth saving and going through hell for.

Being on the ice felt good, surprising, but good. She kept easy, not trying too many turns or leg lifts, though that didn't mean she didn't try at all, there just weren't a handful, more like four or so. When he would try and skate by her, she'd allow it until he tried to cozy up or be romantic. She wasn't as cold as she had been to him, this would take time to get back to where they were - the important thing is that they wanted to do it at all and that's why they were there.

After enough falls from Ezra to lose count and many unsuccessful laps around the rink, they decided that it was time to get the hell out of there. Rose was appreciative that he did this and took her there of all places. It was heartwarming and sweet to bring her back and maybe he knew she was grateful, but judging from her actions and the icy glares, it would have been safe to say that the signals were mixed. On the way out she made the first contact with skin and placed her palm on his shoulder, squeezing it while they walked, which caught his attention the same as it would to grab at his dick through his pants. "Thanks," she started, her words soft but sincere. "It was nice to be back here." It wasn't the most grand thank you note, but after what they had been through, it was an awfully good start.

They decided to stop at a diner, one they haven't been to before near the rink, only a few blocks away on a street that looks less chic than their Brooklyn route, but isn't that the kind of diner that calls to you, the kind where the people working there have probably been working there their entire lives, knowing customers by name and serving the same greasy hash browns and chocolate chip pancakes since the beginning of time. "Do you think they'll have seat covers," he asks her, cracking a joke while they find parking about a block away because this is New York and even having a car is pointless but they have Rocco and it's better than relying on ubers and cabs all the time. "I don't want to end up with a cocktail of STD's from sitting on the seat." She looks at him through a pair of dark shaded sunglasses and smirks, but the smirk is lost in translation while she's shaking her head at him and they enter the diner.

It's comfortable, the smell of grease and cheap food greets them as they walk in. The place isn't busy nor is it empty, a few people already eating and a handful sitting at the counter drinking coffee and talking loudly over each other. Removing her sunglasses, she scopes out a booth over in the corner of the diner where no one else seems to be. Turning her head as she starts walking, her cheek lifts as the side of her mouth twists up, nodding for him to come along, as if to say, it won't be that bad.

Ezra is quick to act like he's above certain things and only interested in luxury watches and the finer things in life, but Rose is quick to remind him that of all things, he's also from New Jersey, and even if he's from one of the most gorgeous towns in that godforsaken state, she likes to pretend that he came from filth and has to stay true to some sort of trash roots.

In the back of the diner, they sat together and ordered more food than two skinny thirty-somethings could handle, so many carbs and sugar, but it was all worth it in the end, bellies full and their hearts mending slowly. Rose caught herself looking at Ezra between bites of food in her mouth, only looking back down when he'd look up and catch her. They were two people who talked to much, that was part of their charm, but for a few minutes, in that diner, there was a nice comfortable silence and a cloud of warmth that could only bring positive skies.