The neon sign outside the roller-skating rink flickered like it was trying to wink at passersby. Aurora decided it was an omen. Not a good omen, not a bad omen, just an omen. Something was going to happen.
And honestly? With Erica around, something always did.
Inside, the rink looked like an 80s movie had been condensed into a fever dream. Purple lights washed over the glossy floor. The DJ, who was at least seventy-two and wearing a sequined fedora, blasted music that felt about thirty years too old yet somehow perfect.
Kids zipped around like caffeinated hummingbirds while couples clung to each other with varying degrees of codependency.
Aurora skated onto the floor first, effortlessly gliding backwards as if she was made for this. Which she kind of was. She had grace, balance, and the ability to look perfectly adorable even while doing dumb things like spinning. The Omega smirked over her shoulder.
