Isabelle dubiously stared down at Simon, who was kneeling by her feet and lacing her left ice skate. Afterwards, he gently rotated her foot, "It's not too tight, is it?"
She shook her head, "I guess it feels alright." He smiled at her, pulled down her leg warmer and helped her up.
Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, Simon grinned at Isabelle, "Ready, Iz?"
She frowned slightly while watching all these mundies on the ice. Here she was, Isabelle Lightwood, about to participate in one of the most mundane activities you could do as a New Yorker: ice skating on the Rink a few days before Christmas.
Simon's eyes had grown to the size of saucers when Isabelle had casually mentioned that she had never gone ice skating and he had quickly convinced her that it was one of the things you just have to do when you live in "the greatest city on this planet" (Simon's words, not hers). After that she had deliberately not to mentioned that she'd also never seen the ball drop on New Year's Day (or was it New Year's Eve?) or that she had never visited the Statue of Liberty.
Turning her gaze back to Simon, Isabelle thought that maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea to come here. Her boyfriend's eyes were sparkling and he was bobbing up and down in his skates (which, he had explained patiently, were different to hers because his were for ice hockey whereas hers were for something called figure skating). He looked truly excited and for once his pale cheeks were actually slightly coloured. Simon looked good … he looked alive.
Isabelle quickly turned away from him, because these thoughts only lead to more dangerous ones and she didn't want to get mopey and ruin the evening Simon had so carefully planned.
He had been awfully sweet to her. First he had picked her up from the Institute, paid for the cab, the entrance fee - the prices were completely over the top in Isabelle's opinion – and then he had also wordlessly paid for her ice skates. Normally, Isabelle would have protested, but Simon had given her a tiny shake of his head so the only thing she did was kiss his cheek and thank him.
And now here she was, about to go ice skating for the first time in her life. It looked easy enough and Isabelle was confident that she wouldn't have any trouble on the ice. Being graceful was almost part of her DNA and she also wore an equilibrium rune in case something unexpected happened.
Simon led her to the edge of the Rink and got onto the ice before he extended his hands to her, "Take little steps and hold onto my hands, I'm not going to let you fall." Isabelle almost rolled her eyes at him, but he looked so … cute – yes, Isabelle Lightwood used the word 'cute' nowadays – that she only gave a short nod.
She stepped onto the ice, reached out for Simon's hands and WHOA! almost landed right on her butt. In the last second Simon caught her and hugged her to his chest. Isabelle breathed in his familiar scent, mentally cursed herself for screwing up, but she quickly became distracted because he appeared to wear a new cologne which smelled pretty damn nice! She pressed herself closer, turned her head a little and inhaled again. Her discreet sniff turned out to be rather obvious, because Simon jokingly asked, "Did you just sniff me?"
Isabelle took a careful step back to mock glare at him, "You smell nice so it's not my fault. As your girlfriend I am allowed to smell you." The answering grin made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, a feeling she still had to get used to but didn't really mind. According to Clary and Maia, it was a pretty normal feeling and they said they would have been more concerned if Isabelle wasn't feeling 'girly' (their words, not hers) whenever Simon was smiling at her or doing something cute.
Simon hugged Isabelle tightly and whispered cheekily, "You know, you can smell me any time you want." He added an eyebrow waggle and Isabelle nearly hit him, but caught herself in the last moment because she didn't feel that stable on the ice, "Simon! You are impossible!"
He laughed, kissed the tip of her nose and replied confidently, "You love me anyways."
Enter warm and fuzzy feelings again. Damn him!
"Well, you are very lovable." Before Simon could preen, Isabelle stood up on her tip toes which wasn't exactly easy in her ice skates and kissed him. Their kiss was slow, unhurried as if they were in their own little bubble.
Only when a little boy with his dad bumped into them, did they separate. Simon looked even more flushed and Isabelle smoothed down her hair which had become a bit messed.
"Maybe we should actually try ice skating," Simon suggested softly. Isabelle nodded quickly and took a step away from him.
She half expected to land on her butt again or to lose her balance and fling herself at Simon to stay upright, but nothing happened. After a couple more feet, Isabelle was actually ice skating!
Simon gave her a satisfied little smile, "I knew you could do it." Nevertheless, he grabbed her hand and together, they skated over the ice, lap after lap until they were both too cold.
Later, over a cup of hot chocolate, Isabelle took Simon's hand, squeezed it lightly and gently admitted, "I had a great evening. Thank you for introducing me to ice skating."
He smiled Isabelle favourite smile and squeezed her hand, "You're welcome, Isabelle."
The end
(or maybe the beginning of a series?)
