Page 61 of Ice Dance

I laughed, and again we went. Same setup, building speed, Navarro in the corner of my eye, leaning in, weight transfer, turn, on the toes, tension in the legs, spin.

We collided hard. Both of us going down. I dropped, hip and elbow striking the ice. Pain lanced up my arm. Navarro sprawled, then skidded half sitting up toward the boards.

“Alright, good,” Dylan called. “If we get it right every time, then it’s too easy and anyone can do it. I want you two performing the impossible, which will put your asses on the ice often enough that you’re going to hate me for it. Again.”

We worked through it, falling fifty percent of the time, but each time we made it stick taught me something new about Navarro’s form and how best to complement his energy. When it worked, and he snapped into my hold, eyes locking on mine, the drama never faded. The tension grew. This was what was going to win us the Meridian, I realized. I should have seen it before, but I’d been so focused on only me. It was the us element of the routine that was going to secure the win.

We ran into the afternoon, and the diagonal staccato argument section got cleaner with every pass. We landed on beat. The close pass came sharp enough to make Dylan wince, and the catch into the hold worked three times in a row without either of us overthinking it into failure.

I came off the ice tired, bruised and aching, but lighter than I had any right to feel, considering everything happening off the ice.

We stepped outside into the late afternoon sun, where a man with a phone up said my name. “Hasegawa? Navarro? Is it true you’re competing together in the gender open category?”

We all stared at him as he came across the pavement, clearly recording.

“Are you with a publication?” Dylan asked.

“Iceline Sports.”

“Alright, so send our media manager a list of questions and we’ll answer them⁠—”

The reporter moved with us, walking backward across the cracked surface. He was young, eager, his press badge swinging against his chest. Behind him, a second person was approaching. Different badge, different press.

“Ren, do you think Navarro is the right partner for you in the Meridian Cup?”

“What kind of question is that?” I asked.

Dylan put her hand up. “We’re not answering questions here.”

“Camden,” the reporter said, ignoring her. “The footage of you both dancing off the ice is being called scandalous and inappropriate.”

Navarro flashed a smile. “On brand for me, then, right?”

“Do you think that level of physicality belongs in ice dance?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he teased.

“Do you deny the footage is provocative?”

My skin went cold beneath my jacket. The motion of our bodies together, the slow, deep grind, his lips parted, my hand on his hip.

“We train, and sometimes training looks provocative. That’s dance,” he said.

“It looked like more than that.”

Navarro stopped walking. “Look, man. I’ve given you my answer. If you want me to say something else that’s gonna get you clicks, you’re going to have to try harder.”

“Are you comfortable with how sexual the public discourse has become around your pairing?”

Sexual.

The word landed like a blade catching the ice wrong, tilting the world out from under me. My mouth dried. The phone pointed at me, and I felt the whole filthy weight of the accusation and being seen in a way I had not authorized and couldn’t control. The clip, watched by hundreds of thousands. My secret, on full display for the world to see. My shame turned into a headline.

Hasegawa and Navarro Romantically Involved?

Heat on and off the Ice?

Ice Dancing’s Hottest Couple.