TwinkleTop:Well then it’s a date.
I open up my excel calendar and, sure enough, I do have Wednesday free. Maybe I decided I’d deserve a break after Skate Canada. I click the block and type C before remembering Maude gets an alert anytime I update the schedule.
TwinkleTop:Wow I almost added you to the schedule
3dge-m3:I bet. You schedule your baths?
TwinkleTop:Ebson salt baths.
3dge-m3:For a half hour?
TwinkleTop:I’m sensing judgement.
3dge-m3:You know I have a bathtub
3dge-m3:You could bathe here
TwinkleTop:Sounds like a ploy to see me naked.
A squeaky voice mumbles, “Excuse me?”
I shove my phone in the side pocket of my leggings, forcing a smile before I know who is talking to me. Sure enough, Yessen is standing before me, his cheeks red from the cold of the rink and some precocious acne. He has a headband pushing back his jet-black hair. He’s wringing his hands like he’s about to skate a routine he’s only ever done once before.
My smile makes me sound overly cheerful.
“Hi.” It hits me then we’ve never actually spoken. I’ve been out of Junior competitions for so long. The extent of our relationship is liking each other’s social posts. “I’m Rod—”
“I know.” His eyes go big but he swallows back whatever emotion has torn through him. “Sorry, I am a big fan.”
My elbow settles on the wall in an attempt to make this awkward exchange more casual. “Thank you. Hey, what is that track you’re skating to? I have it stuck in my head.”
Yessen blinks and I worry I’m speaking a bit too casually, maybe some of it’s not translating. His English is way better than my Kazakh. “It’s a DJ I really like. He remixes opera and orchestra. I can show.” He holds out his hand.
I’m about to hand him my phone but stop short. “Sorry, one second.” I close all the apps and turn on Do Not Disturb just in case Christos messages me back. While Yessen types the artist into my phone, I start to feel silly. Like this seventeen-year-old knows what poundr is, never mind who Christos is.
“Thanks,” I say as Yessen hands me back my phone. “I’ll check him out. It’s nice to see kids are still having fun with their program music.”
“Kid?” He lifts a brow. “I’m eighteen.”
“Didn’t you just move up from juniors?” Sure, you can be nineteen and in juniors, but most guys switch over around seventeen.
“Yes, and my birthday was last week.”
It dawns on me. “So, you’re eligible for the Olympic games.”
His shoulders roll back before he nods, a new found confidence in his stance. A deserved confidence, what with his recent performance. He only lost to Yuri Aoba, who has been winning golds since I moved up to the senior division. I’m at a loss of what to say;good luck, stay focused, don’t worry, I’ll be there too and I am not losing to some kid who still has acne.
Thankfully, someone calls his name from across the rink. We give each other a nod before he skates off. I turn notifications back on and sure enough, Christos has responded.
TwinkleTop:Sounds like a ploy to see me naked
3dge-m3:Guilty.
3dge-m3:Good luck in France. I’ll try to tune in.
I bite my lip, wondering what he gets out of watching me compete. Is the fact that I dominate in the bedroom and on the ice the ultimate form of foreplay? Maybe I shouldn’t care. Our desires are the same: me on top podium over the rest of the competitors.
The music changes and I hear the starting notes of my track. As a reflex I announce, “Shit—” before setting my phone aside and skating out to the rink’s center. My rookie moves don’t stop there.
