Page 77
“Never.” He glances at me, and his eyebrows go up. After a heartbeat, he finally steps back from her, dropping his hands to his sides. “Um, we’re here for practice…” He trails off.
“I better go anyway.” She pats his chest. “See you around.”
With that, she rounds him and heads toward the women’s locker room. She doesn’t look my way again, doesn’t say hello or even acknowledge me. It’s as if I don’t exist.
“Uh, should we change?” Asher takes a tentative step closer, a deep frown etched onto his face.
Without a word, I turn on my heel and stalk toward the men’s locker room. My heart pounds in rhythm with my steps as I throw open the door.
When Ash joins me, I ignore him, gritting my teeth hard enough to crack a molar. My duffel bag lands on the floor with a thud, my stick clattering beside it a second later. Heat ignites just under my skin and spreads through me, like I’m burning alive.
“I sent Amanda a text,” he mutters. “I told her not to come.” He strips out of his tee, giving me a wary look.
“Okay.” I nod. “Less talking. We’ve only got the ice for two hours.”
Lips pressed together, he dips his chin. “Sure.”
I pull off my tee and yank the long-sleeved black dry-fit shirt out of my bag. Inside me, anger and frustration mix so tightly, I’m afraid they’ll suffocate me. With a deep, cleansing breath, I lock all the thoughts and feelings into a small box and push it to the back of my mind. Right now, practice is the only thing I should be focusing on. Nothing else.
She doesn’t matter.
CHAPTER TWENTY
pretty boy
ISLA
Nineteen years old
It’s been six months since the Olympics.
Six months since I stepped onto the ice with the weight of every fall, every bruise, every meltdown, every panic attack, every uncelebrated birthday, every oh-my-God-I-can’t-breathe moment hanging over my head. I placed fifth.
No medal. No podium.
But for a nineteen-year-old, it wasn’t a terrible way to end the games.
When we returned to the US, Elena and I sat down and discussed my next steps. There was no argument about whether I’d try again, on either of our parts. In four years, I want to win gold. I know I can do it. Elena believes in me too, and I won’t quit until it’s done.
My parents wanted me to find a little normalcy in life, to live like the rest of the world. After all, I’ve already missed out on so many things. My grandparents, my uncles, and my Nana Millie all backed them up. Even my traitor of a brother told me it’s time to “be normal.”
It was their suggestion I go to college. So, here I am in California, at Golden Bay University, an hour from home. I’ve always dreamed of studying at GBU, but while I focused on my skating career, I wasn’t sure it would actually happen.
As much as I wanted to give that dream a try, at first, I said no to my parents. Repeatedly. Because Michael is here. I gave them every excuse I could come up with. When I ran out of excuses, Dad flew to Boston to convince me to go to GBU, reminding me it meant I’d be close to them.
I folded quickly after that.
Elena and I came up with a plan. She’s still my coach. She creates a program and adjusts it based on how I perform. We have a video call every day, regardless of how I’m doing. She pushes me even harder than ever. According to her, if I want a second shot at the Olympics, I need to learn how to get out of my head, because that’s often what’s standing in the way of the results I want.
To no one’s surprise, sports psychology is my major. As much as Elena wants it, I, too, want to learn to deal with pressure, with the constant battle for perfection, with learning how to detach my well-being and my self-worth from my results on the ice. And one day, I want to help others. I’ve been in the sports world long enough to know I’m not the only one who struggles like this.
My training plans come from Elena, the technique and the choreography, but Coach Gonzalez, GBU’s figure skating coach, is here for the day-to-day stuff. We haven’t done more than discuss the details so far, but he will watch my jumps, keep me on the ice, and make sure I don’t break myself trying to meet my goals. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of me being here alone today, but I needed this. I needed to feel the ice.
Though, if I’d thought there was any chance I’d see the one person I hoped to avoid, I might have rethought my decision.
“All I wanted was a week of peace. Time to adjust to my new reality.” I tsk as I pull my BMW X3 into the dorm’s parking lot. “And what did I get? One day. Ridiculous.”
With my duffel bag in hand, I head inside. I tried to talk my parents into renting an apartment for me nearby, but they’re adamant I need to be as involved in student life as possible. So, here I am, living in the dorms reserved for athletes. My suite is on the second floor, the corner room, and my roommate, Blake Scott, is amazing so far. She has blue hair, gray eyes, and a very sharp tongue. She’s a basketball player, towering over me by nearly a foot.
