Chapter Six

brYAN

THREE DAYS LATER

T his girl is going to be the death of me, I think, just before I crash to the ice again.

When I open my eyes, the overhead lights temporarily blind me. Then a head of flaming red hair swims hazily into my field of vision, big grey eyes peering down at me.

For a stupid second, I think she’s going to ask if I’m okay, maybe help me up. You know, basic human decency?

“You’re an idiot,” Katya says simply, then straightens and skates off.

Yeah, it’s been like this all week.

People tend to think ice skaters are princesses or something. I’ve been training with these girls my whole life: long enough for any illusions about this sport to get scrubbed out of me, at least, which is how I know many ( especially those seven-year-old girls that still terrify the bejeezus out of me to this day) are far from being the little angels that they are in performance. And my new partner didn’t earn her Ice Queen title by being a sweetheart, so my expectations weren’t exactly high—but I’m starting to think Katya Andreyeva is even less chill than she seems on TV.

I groan, trying to sit up without snapping my whole body in two. “Nice. Here I was thinking your insults were basic.”

A laugh echoes across the ice, and she switches to backwards just so I can see her shit-eating grin before she launches into what might be the biggest triple Axel I’ve ever seen, floating down so lightly you’d think she really was an angel, if it weren’t for the two middle fingers she’s flashing me.

“Like that,” she says once she’s done, skidding to a stop next to me. “What, you can’t do it?”

I clench my teeth. “Yes, I can.”

“Then prove it.”

I hesitate, and she smirks. Damn it. I need to learn how to keep my face straight. Maybe I should ask Lian for tips. “See? I have no need for insults. You’re pathetic enough without me wasting my breath.”

Alright. That’s it. I dig my toe picks in the ice, get on my feet, then race to where she’s just shown me up for the millionth time since the beginning of this never-ending practice. Which, according to the time up there, was less than ten minutes ago.

This is going to be the worst year of my life.

I glance over my shoulder to where I’m jumping, trying to ignore Katya’s eyes digging into my skin. Just ignore her. She’s not there. No one is here . Triple Axels are my favorite jump under normal circumstances, I can do them in my sleep when my skin isn’t crawling like this, like after all those falls back at Nationals two weeks ago— shut up and focus, Young. I shut my eyes and just go for it.

Almost.

“Damn it!” I pop the jump, land on both feet, no rotations completed, basically just a drunk-looking hop off the ice—I panicked, I freaked, I failed again.

“Impressive,” Katya says dryly, and I flush red.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t staring at me, crossing your fingers I mess up,” I snap, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes, blame me. Because I am the one causing your mistake, right? Not you?”

“Yeah, exactly,” I say sardonically. “And for the record, I don’t want to impress you. I could give a shit about your opinion.”

“I can see that. You look very constipated.”

Luckily, before I can do something else to really piss off Chris Heffner, Lian slams her gigantic Stanley coffee thermos down on the boards with a massive bang that ricochets like a gunshot.

“Alright! Enough horsing around. It’s been real fun watching you two bitch like middle school girls, but, in case you’ve forgotten, we have real work to do.” She gets to her feet, then steps onto the ice, stopping in front of us. “Bryan, get your head in the game. Katya, stop getting in his head. Hate to break it to you guys, but you’re partners now, and you better damn learn to act like it.”

“I haven’t said yes for sure yet,” Katya interjects, and it takes all my self-control not to yell Thank you, Captain Obvious! Not that there’s any real point in her dragging this out so painfully, other than maybe a dedication to making everyone’s lives harder, namely mine. She’s here , isn’t she? She’s showed up to practice all week, much to my disappointment, because now I owe Ollie and Nina twenty bucks and the next round at Moby’s—although I’m one hundred percent sure that Ollie was also positive Katya wouldn’t show and only sided with Nina for a chance at free alcohol.

The point is, she’s going to say yes. She’s here, she’s moving, she signed the papers. She doesn’t really have a choice, either. And, oh, boy, is that gratifying.

So is Lian’s withering glare. “Yes, thank you for the reminder. And for proving me right. You’re being ridiculous. Both of you,” she corrects, just as I start smiling. “Bryan, come on. Do better, alright?”

I cross my arms, scratching at the ice with my blade instead of looking at either of them. I know full well I’m acting like a toddler, but I can’t help myself. This girl brings out the worst in me.

“Bryan. Stop ruining my ice and get behind her.”

I roll my eyes, then oblige.

“Now put your hand on her waist. You’re going to do some laps, get a feel for each other.”

“But—”

“No buts. You’ve never had problems feeling girls up before, Young, do it now.”

I bite back a laugh, then lean into Katya’s ear. “She’s not kidding.”

Her lips tighten.

“Just telling the truth. By the way, I can’t feel you up with your arms that tight, sunshine.”

She lets out a fake laugh, then thrusts her arms straight out. I grunt as one of them juts between my ribs. “ Svolach. American pig.”

“Wow, calling me by my nationality, I’m so offended.”

“Oh, you’ll be offended when I rip your—”

“Guys!” Steam is practically blowing out of Lian’s ears. “Get out there!”

Katya yanks my hand and secures it on her waist, keeping her own tightly over it and gripping my other hand, rocketing off before I even realize what’s happening. I nearly trip over my own feet but scramble to catch up.

It only takes a beat, though, and soon enough we’re running laps around the rink like it’s nothing. It’s sort of like dancing, only way faster and a lot less exhausting. The one thing I know about pairs is that you’re supposed to match up with your partner, so I attempt to find some kind of rhythm with her, even if she’s blasting across the ice so goddamn fast I’m getting the feeling she’s trying to leave me behind on purpose. Which wouldn’t surprise me.

“Left!”

“Right!”

“Left!”

“Right!”

Over. And over. And over. And over.

“Switch!” Lian yells out again, and we change direction simultaneously, only this time we don’t slow down and we start moving into crossovers at regular speed (read: fast) as we near the corner of the ice.

We keep doing it, laps upon laps of stroking and crossovers, forwards and backwards, getting a feel for each other. My thighs are burning, and I can feel the sweat pouring off me.

“Again!”

“Again? We’ve been doing this for an hour already!”

“Yeah, and now you have to relearn how to skate, this time with someone on top of you the whole time. If one of you trips over the other, you’re both screwed. We’re still doing basic skills today.”

“But we haven’t been tripping,” Katya interjects. “Shouldn’t we move onto elements instead of wasting time?”

My eyebrows nearly fly off my face. “Are you agreeing with me?”

“I don’t want to be near you any longer than I have to.”

Lian nods, ignoring us. “You aren’t tripping, and that’s good. Means that we can move faster. But I’m the coach here, and I know what I’m doing. Trust me. We need to make sure even the easiest of skills are rock solid.”

I’m expecting this girl to throw yet another fit, but she just sighs. “Alright.”

I can tell Lian appreciates the cooperation, even if she barely shows it. I have a feeling she already likes Katya better than me. It has to be a testament to how impossible I am to train that the evil Ice Queen is preferable.

At least she can land a quad. At least she places.

“Ten more laps, then we’ll start lifts.”

I ’m not nervous.

I’m not. Just because my hands are slick and the feeling in the pit of my stomach is back and my throat feels like that one time I’d had an allergic reaction to the infamous Francine, the fun little critter that Alexandra had decided to smuggle back from sleepaway camp in her duffel bag—doesn’t mean I’m nervous.

I’m starting to think I might be allergic to skating, though. It would explain the tightness in my chest, the nausea, and the all-consuming dread that seems to set in the second I step foot on the ice.

“Okay, time for a waist lift. Nothing to it. Bryan, you’re going to grab her, then lift her straight up.” Lian points her finger at me. “Just do it. Don’t get cute.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Are we talking Lion King?”

Lian rolls her eyes at the stupid comparison, but nods, and Katya turns, the barest trace of confusion on her frigid features. “What?”

“The Disney movie? Come on. There’s no way you haven’t seen it.”

She throws me a dark look, and I bite back the glee. This is just way too fun. I’ll take my victories wherever I can get them, because I’m clearly not about to get them on the ice.

Katya turns around so I’m facing her back, and I frown for a second, trying to figure out how to do this. She’s tiny—in the same way that Chucky is tiny—but despite how horrifying her personality already is, I have a feeling it’ll only get worse if my hold isn’t right and I drop her on her ass.

Forget it. I just grab her, lifting her off the ground, until I have to crane my neck around her shoulders to see Lian. “Like that?”

“Higher.”

“Like that ?”

“A little higher.”

“I thought you said this is a waist lift. Shouldn’t that be, you know, waist level?”

“Just a little—there. Good, you got it.”

“Great,” I mutter, or at least I try to, because Katya’s butt is directly in my face and it’s so muffled nothing intelligible comes out.

“Please stop talking into my asscrack,” Katya says calmly, and I’m only too happy to oblige.

I spit out yoga pant, craning my neck way around her. “Can I put her down now?”

“Nope.”

This is going to be a long day.

I t goes like that for three more hours—moving through the very basics of pairs at an agonizingly slow pace.

By the time we get a break, my arms and shoulders are burning like they’re about to fall off, but somehow I’ve managed not to drop Katya, even though every time she opens her mouth I get the urge to. We’ve been doing tiny lifts on the ice periodically, basically just me lifting her two feet off the ground and making sure I can handle it; getting used to having to carry someone for extended periods of time. And then it’s back upstairs to the off-ice room.

Lian claps her hands. “Carry lifts! Bryan, you’ve been doing good, now we’re going higher. On dry land only, so you don’t kill her. We’ll start with a harness on Friday, though, don’t worry.”

“Yay…”

“Loving the positivity. First is the lasso lift. Reach under her to grab her hands, then lift her above you. Katya, go into a middle split. Got it?”

Neither of us answer. I cross my arms, then uncross them when I see Katya doing the same thing.

“I don’t have all day. If you two aren’t going to get your butts into gear, I’m going to call Chris Heffner and tell him to find me some new skaters. I don’t have time to waste, and you two don’t have the money.” Lian glances between us, and I shift around. Katya rolls her eyes again but doesn’t say anything. “So is that a yes?”

I close my eyes. I don’t have a choice. The thought keeps dinging in my head. I don’t have a choice. I have to do this. I have to give it everything I have.

“Katya, pretend you’re skating. Loosen up. You’re not completely still when you do this, so it’s good to be in the same positions. Bryan, you’re going to have to reach all the way under her legs to get to her hands. Got it?”

I don’t even bother being uncomfortable about it. I just sigh. “Fine.”

I catch Juliet’s eye, who’s been standing in the corner this whole time watching, filming, taking notes. She gives me an encouraging smile and two enthusiastic thumbs-up. Only she could be so optimistic at a time like this.

“Ready? One. Two. Three.”

On three, I bend down a little bit, reaching through her legs and up to secure my hold around her wrists, her fingers wrapping around mine as I grunt and lift her straight above my head.

Holy crap, this is not as easy as it looks on TV.

“Alright, Katya, relax a little more,” Lian says, walking slowly around us to see it from all sides. “Be strong, not tense.”

“I have to stay tense, this half-wit’s limp noodle arms are shaking like earthquakes,” she snaps, her grip tightening around my hands, and I grit my teeth.

“Sorry, sunshine, I’ve never had to lift a hundred-pound shit before,” I get out, the sarcasm sadly losing some of its sting due to the fact that I’m struggling to stay upright. I can feel all the weight in my neck right now, and it’s throwing me off. I stumble half a step before regaining my balance.

Katya looks down at me in panic for a half-second before straightening back up. “Why don’t you shut up and focus? Clearly you don’t have the brainpower to do two things at once.”

“Easy for you to say, you just have to stay up there and look pretty.”

She hacks out a laugh. “Believe me, the only reason you haven’t fallen over yet is because I’ve been helping. I could always de-tense and drop onto your head if you’d prefer.”

Is de-tense even a word? “Go for it, I dare you.” Just then, my elbows lock, and I grimace as her body weight jams my arm down on itself. It’s not technically her fault, so I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough I think I might’ve bitten something off for a second, but I cannot drop her, so I just try to think it through, lowering her slightly, then flexing again to start over and get her back up there. And I hold on, just a little longer. Okay. This isn’t so hard.

I’ll be bench pressing this girl in no time, I think, but maybe a little prematurely, because that’s when I drop her.

Whoops.