Amy paced in her room. She wandered around, wanting to busy her hands but having nothing to bide time. She was already dressed for her outing with Hamilton. And she was fifteen minutes early.

She bit her nails. Should she have tried to apply makeup? No, that's a horrible idea. Should she have asked Nellie what to wear? An even worse idea, congrats Ames. Should she see if Hamilton's ready yet?

A flash of a toned torso numbed her thoughts.

Amy buried her face in her hands and groaned. Could she last the day without being reduced to a puddle of social awkwardness?

She sat down on the floor by her bed and tried to not think about the time. Instead, she focused on where Hamilton could possibly be taking her. She'd realized that she knew nothing about where they were going, and that'd made the wardrobe decisions impossible. She just hoped her jeans and cardigan were simple enough without looking frumpy.

Amy resorted to imagining the possibilities of the day, and that quickly amounted to flurries of images. Images of Hamilton laughing with her, hugging her, holding hands...

Useless. Anything and everything she did had her mind going back to him. It was a pointless struggle. She took a deep breath to alleviate the tension in her heart; it was beating furiously, and she waited for the grip on her chest to subside.

Thankfully, before she could sink herself further into the curiosity that was Hamilton, a knock on her door shook her out of her dreams.

A low voice followed, "Ames?"

She frantically got up off the floor and brushed off the dust.

"Yeah?" She called back, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I'm a couple minutes early, but are you ready?"

Amy opened the door, and took in Hamilton with a glance. A part of her slumped in relief; he wasn't dressed fancy, so she wasn't underdressed. He was wearing a knit sweater and jeans, but he glowed with an exuberance that made her excited.

His eyes trailed down and back up, and she watched nervously. He smiled down at her.

"That's more Amy," he commented.

"What?"

Hamilton gestured to her outfit. "You look more like Amy now." He flashed a toothy grin.

She looked down, walking out into the corridor as he stepped aside. Was that a good thing?

He must have caught her expression because he chuckled, "No worries, I think you look better like this."

Amy looked up at him as they walked side by side down the hallway. He smirked, challenging her to say something about her appearance. She looked away, feeling her chest clench again.

They walked quietly past the others' rooms and to the car parked outside the gate.

When they were seated in the car and Hamilton started the engine, Amy spoke up.

"I thought you would've liked me better dressed like yesterday."

Hamilton backed out of the driveway before answering, "You were hot yesterday, yeah, but I mean, that's not really you, is it?"

Amy let a smile spread. She glanced at Hamilton as he drove, and risked one last peek before he stopped for a red light. She unknowingly met his eyes, and was greeted by a sly smirk.

"Enjoying the view?"

Amy laughed. "Keep your eyes on the road, Romeo."

The rest of the ride was silent, but comfortably so.

*********

When they arrived, Amy turned to face Hamilton with a smile. "We're going ice-skating?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I was hoping you'd enjoy it." He looked to her, "Unless you don't want to?"

Amy felt her cheeks start to cramp from grinning. She laughed, "Does it look like I don't want to? Honestly, Hamilton."

Hamilton chuckled in a way that sent shudders down her spine, and for a moment that seemed like forever, her vision only focused on that wide smile of his. He nudged her with his arm, and she shook herself of the sparks and looped her arm through his.

They walked into the rink to get their shoes. Hamilton was beaming, and Amy was tingling with anticipation for the day.

*******

When they stepped onto the ice, the cold radiated up, and Amy pulled her cardigan tighter around her. Not surprisingly, Hamilton wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and an involuntary smile ruptured her features.

"You know how to ice-skate?" Hamilton asked as his eyes roamed the nearly empty rink's perimeters.

Amy hummed in thought. "Yeah, I'd say I can skate pretty well."

A smirk. "Better than a Tomas?"

She shrugged his arm off, and threw him a playful glare. "Who knows? Show me what you've got."

She watched the spark in his eyes ignite with the challenge. He sped off at record speed, swiftly swerving around the few people that were on the rink.

Amy speculated calmly from the rink entrance, and when he finished the lap with a figure-eight and a spin, she propped herself up into position.

Once Hamilton came to full stop in front of her, she matched his grin with hers and pat his chest. Shaking her head, she goes, "Watch and learn, amateur."

And so she set off with a series of mid-air spins and pirouettes, along with several demonstrations of her flexibility. Halfway through the lap, she glanced back to him and laughed.

His jaw had dropped, almost in a comedic way, and his eyes were dazed as they mindlessly followed her around the rink.

When she skidded to a stop, she leaned up and pinched his nose. He blinked out of his reverie.

She glowed with pride, and he looked down at Amy, seeing her in a whole new light.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

Adrenaline rushed through her, and she felt the humming of her body urge her to skate another round. She replied breathily, "I've had lessons on figure skating since forever," she laughed lightly and continued, "Acquired skills aren't inbred, Ham."

Hamilton stayed silent before ruffling her hair playfully. "There's no beating you, is there?"

Amy merely smiled and made to skate off, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. When she turned around, she was greeted with his arm offered to her.

Her smile widened, and she took his arm for the nth time that day, and together, they zipped through the rink, attracting gazes from the straggling people left.

The cool air whipped through her hair, and she leaned forward to gain momentum.

Hamilton pushed ahead of her and turned towards her, skating backwards until Amy quickly surpassed him again.

She made a sharp turn, nearly colliding with the railing. There was a sharp intake of breath behind her.

Before Amy could turn her head, she was lifted off the ground. The sudden absence of pressure jerked her body from its high.

With a shriek of his name, she clutched onto his arms.

Swiftly, Hamilton swiveled Amy in mid-air so that she was practically straddling him. Just as quickly, he screeched to a stop.

The unexpected halt had Amy nearly jerk backward, but Hamilton's grip on her tightened, and her arms flew around his neck, her legs simultaneously crossing behind his back.

With her literally attached to him at the hip, a silence settled over them as they panted. They were flushed, and their breathing rapid. Amy looked down at him, their faces close. Her hair draped down to curtain the exchange of glances from the rest of the world.

Time slowed and her heart sped up. A shy smile crept up on his face and she giggled.

When Hamilton tilted his face up, she watched as his eyes darted to her lips. She felt herself implode.

She was fairly certain her face blew up too, but she leaned in anyways.

And the moment came to an abrupt halt when a wolf-whistle rang out from some irrelevant man somewhere in the vast rink.

There was a moment of epiphany where Amy just stared at Hamilton, and he just stared at her. Their position was becoming more embarrassing as the seconds passed.

It wasn't until Amy threw her head to the side to sneeze that he finally separated himself from her, gently setting her down so that she wouldn't subsequently slip and fall.

By habit now, Amy reached for him, and they linked arms as they glided out of the rink, having come to a silent, mutual agreement that they should head home.

Amy didn't catch the life-threatening glare Hamilton flashed at the poor soul that interrupted their could've-been session.

A/N: If y'all liked it, vote? Thank you~