“Well,” I said, grabbing my jacket before the moment could become emotionally fatal before breakfast, “I somehow managed to win Olympic gold and fall in love in the same week. Feels like that deserves decent date planning.”
His face changed instantly at the word love, still catching on it every time like he couldn’t quite believe it belonged to him now.
And every time it happened, I found myself wanting to say it again.
“That spin sequenceneeds to be bigger emotionally,” Ethan announced from the boards.
I glared at him. “Please stop talking.”
“Hey, I’m trying to help here. If you’re doing a gala performance after winning Olympic gold, you need drama. Romance. Longing. You’re giving me ‘mildly emotional accountant,’ not ‘Olympic champion consumed by passion.’”
I snorted. “You’ve watched too much ice dance.”
“There is no such thing.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed off again, letting the music restart through the empty-ish practice rink.
The atmosphere after competition always changed. It got lighter, messier. People laughed more. Coaches stopped looking like they had a pole stuck up their asses.
But through all my preparations for the exhibition gala that would happen in a week’s time, my thoughts kept circling back to Luka.
Tomorrow night the cameras would focus on him again, and his federation would be watching every movement he made. And after everything he’d told me, after the frank conversations in my room, I knew the pressure sitting on his shoulders now had become something entirely different.
A pressure that had nothing to do with his skating.
He wasn’t just afraid anymore. He was awake, and that sounded more dangerous.
My phone buzzed as I stepped off the ice.
Luka: About this secret plan of yours for this afternoon… are you going to share it? Or do I need a crash course in mind-reading?
I laughed, my thumbs sliding over the screen:Yeah, *definitely* sounding more American.
Ethan coughed loudly. “Excuse me? I’m the funny one here.”
I ignored him and typed back:How’s the hip?
Better, thanks to you.
I smiled.
Your plan?
I grinned.You said you trusted me.
The answer came back almost at once.
I was emotionally compromised at the time. [grin]
God.
Even now, after everything, the ease between us still felt miraculous.
I typed:Mark got me access to Agorà this afternoon for gala rehearsal. Private ice. No media. Just you and me.It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was space we didn’t have to share with anyone.
Space where we could just be ourselves.
There was a pause before his reply pinged back.
