“You’re hard to miss,” I reply, and then soften it. “Also, it’s on your name tag.”
He laughs, too loud, then glances automatically at his coach.
Cecilia’s gaze has not left my face.
“Cecilia,” I add, measured. “It’s been such a long time since we’ve crossed paths. How are you? I didn’t realize you were coaching.”
It’s a harmless sentence. Neutral. A common combination of words people like us use in rooms like this one.
Her expression doesn’t move.
“I’ve been coaching for years,” she says.
Nina elbows my arm from her spot next to me, and Rodrigo tracks the movement. His eyes shift from his coach to mine, waiting for the next sentence.
“You’re lucky,” I say to Rodrigo. He looks like he might explode on the spot, excitement climbing all the way up his neck. “She was an incredible skater.”
Rodrigo’s eyes shift to Cecilia, then back to me.
“You move like she did,” I continue, keeping my tone light and my media smile on my face. “Same control through the transitions, and you don’t rush the edges. Impressive.”
I angle my body slightly so my attention stays on him, not because I’m avoiding Cecilia, but because I can feel her watching me like she’s expecting a shoe to drop somewhere, and she’s constantly on edge.
“Warm-ups are chaos,” I say to Rodrigo. “You handled it.”
He nods hard, then looks to his coach automatically again, seeking approval.
She doesn’t smile. But her eyes soften a fraction. It’s so small I almost miss it. That tiny movement does something to me.
“Thank you,” Rodrigo adds.
Cecilia’s shoulder brushes his, quick and grounding. Then she looks back at me and the gentleness disappears. “What do you want, Isabella?”
There it is.
Not “how are you?” Not “nice to see you again.”
A question that assumes I’m here with an agenda, because in this room, in this setting, everyone is.
Nina shifts beside me, alert.
Rodrigo freezes, like he knows he’s watching something adult unfold.
I keep my tone calm. “Tonight,” I say, “I want to meet people. Congratulate the athletes who are joining us for the summer. Keep my sister from biting anyone.”
Nina smiles brightly. “She’s exaggerating.”
Cecilia’s expression doesn’t change. She doesn’t laugh or soften, or does anything, really.
I can’t help it. I like her more for that.
“And,” I add, “I’m paying attention.”
Cecilia’s eyes narrow slightly, the way someone narrows their eyes when they don’t like the implication but they also can’t deny the truth of it.
“To him,” she says, nodding once towards Rodrigo.
“Yes,” I reply, because I’m not going to be caught being evasive. “To him.”
