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“Let’s run through those side-by-side triple toe loops a couple of times before we do another run-through,” says Deb, and Cate shoots me a rueful grin.
“Try not to fall this time, okay?” she teases, patting my arm as she skates by. I swat at her playfully and she laughs as she artfully swerves out of reach.
If only she had any idea how hard I’m trying not to fall.
Cate
Dropping down onto the polished wooden bench in the empty women’s locker room, I wince as I pull my skate off. My ankle is tender. I rolled it during practice on the last throw triple loop, an element that I normally have in the bag. I hate falling in general, but I especially hate falling in front of Alex. There’s a part of me that still feels like this is a giant prank, and it’s all about to be snatched away. That still feels like it’s impossible that one of the best skaters in the world chose me.
I gently probe my ankle, but I don’t think it’s sprained. Just angry. Nothing that some ibuprofen and an ice pack won’t help.
Say what you want about figure skating, but our sport is not for the weak. No wimps allowed. It may look like it’s all frilly dresses and graceful gliding, but you should see some of the bruises I’ve had.
Not to mention almost cracking my skull open.
I grab a quick shower, humming along to the Taylor Swift song stuck in my head and trying to run through our new choreography.
I’m never able to make it through the entire routine in my mind before I get lost in thoughts of Alex.
He’s the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
But my crush is quickly turning into more than just wanting to jump his bones, which I do. Pretty sure I should just rename my vibrator Alex at this point, since he’s all I think of when I use it. But it’s not just a physical thing. It’s the way he makes me feel safe. Makes me laugh. Seems interested in sharing his likes and dislikes with me, and genuinely cares what I think about whatever it is we’re discussing. I remember the way Danny used to steamroll over me, making me feel like my voice didn’t matter because I was younger and less experienced than he was.
But me and Alex? We click. Like, really click. And a part of me—the delulu part, probably—wonders if he sees it, too.
The water turns tepid and I finish up, dry off, get dressed, and twist my wet hair into a bun. My ankle is throbbing, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
I’m only limping slightly when I step out of the locker room and almost run smack into Alex’s chest.
“Oh!” I breathe, taking a step back and then letting out an involuntary hiss when I shift all my weight to my ankle. “Shit.”
He frowns, and it transforms his entire face into something broody and stern. “You hurt your ankle.”
I suck in a shallow breath, panicked adrenaline shooting through me. He’s going to think I’m too injury-prone to be his partner. This is it. Less than a week in, and it’s done.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to ignore the dread pooling in my stomach like oil.
He arches one eyebrow, and I’m pinned under the weight of his gaze.
I gently put weight on it, ignoring the throbbing pain radiating up my leg. “See? All good.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t lie to me, princess,” he says, his voice low and laced with warning. A hot shiver works its way down my spine, making me involuntarily arch my back.
Princess? Oh God, do I like that. Way too much.
Then, before I can figure out what to say, he bends down and scoops me up, cradling me against his hard chest.
And now I know what heaven feels like.
I have to fight the urge to wrap my arms around his neck, because if I do, my fingers will find their way into his hair. I also can’t lay my cheek against his chest and cuddle into him the way I want. He’ll think I’m deranged.
Without a word, he marches us into a small room near the locker rooms, the door closing firmly shut behind us. The light flickers on automatically, and I realize we’re in a first aid room. He sets me down on the pleather bench, and then rolls a stool over so he can sit in front of me.
“Take your shoe off,” he says, his tone gruff and a little bossy, which only dumps gasoline on my already burning attraction to him.
My fingers shake slightly as I undo my shoe laces and then slip it off, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. Alex takes my foot in his strong, warm hands, and I bite my lip to hold back a gasp.
Gently—so, so gently—he probes my ankle with his long fingers, and I wince. “You rolled it pretty good,” he says quietly, his deep voice reverberating in the small room. It’s so neat and tidy—a perfect contrast to my messy, tangled insides.
