"Come here," he sighs over my hysterical laughter. I do just that. I walk into his open arms and wrap myself around his middle, falling into his lavender smell. His arms feel like coming home after being away for weeks. I can't believe I tried to push this away after what he did for me a few weeks ago. He rubs his hand down my spine reassuringly. "You okay?"
"I'm perfect," I muffle into his shirt. I give him one last squeeze before pulling apart from him as he catches both of my hands, beaming at me. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"I'm glad I was here. Someone needed to put him in his place," Miles growls. He shifts his weight to his left foot, letting go of my hands and shoving them in my pockets. "The shows starting soon. So, I'll let you get ready."
I nod. "Thank you, Miles. I appreciate it." He smiles at me before nodding to the locker rooms, urging me to go.
I turn around and go into the locker room.I appreciate you,I want to say but the words get stuck in my throat. I keep my composure when I get out my black and emerald outfit for tonight. I stay calm when I take off my leggings and sweatshirt. I’m fine when I step into the shower but as soon as the heat hits me, I break down.
I allow myself to cry. I give myself fifteen minutes before I have to suck it up and move on.
I cry out of the pressure, the constant torment of trying to always do my best.
I cry for Austin, knowing that I have to do well in order to tell my mom after the show.
I cry over Augustus’ stupid comment and Miles' sweet words. Over his hugs and how I could have had more of them this week. How badly I wished I hadn’t shut him out.
I get out of the shower and put on my costume. I look into the mirror as I apply subtle makeup to my inflamed face. I braid my hair into a bun and secure it with some bobby pins before I head out of the door.
When I get back into the small arena, people are already starting to fill the area. A lot more people than I thought would turn up. I search the slow emerging crowd, but I only spot Sophia with a few other girls sat around her. I can't see where Miles has gone to, and I can't see my girls either. Before I can worry about that, my mom starts strutting towards me in her dark blue pantsuit: a black handbag in one hand and her phone in the other.
“Oh, Amelia. I’m glad I could catch you before the show,” she says frantically as she places her hands on my face, inspecting it. She tilts my face up to the side as she stares into the space between my eyes and underneath them.
“Hello to you too, mother,” I muffle, as her hands squeeze my cheeks before she drops them. “Coming to wish me luck?”
“Yes, and I must speak with you afterwards.” My stomach drops. Maybe she already knows. Maybe Austin sucked it up and told her herself, saving me the torture of doing it.
“I need to talk to you too, actually,” I say.
She pulls out her phone and scrolls through it, ignoring me as she mumbles to herself. She always gets like this before performances. More jittery and antsy than I am. I call her name to snap her back into reality but she’s still scrolling.
“Ah, it’s better that we talk afterwards,” she says dismissively when she finally looks up at me, her pupils huge. “Remember to stay focused. Stay sharp.”
I nod and she rushes off to her seat. I look up into the stands and now even more people are here. It’s still not as full as it would be at the hockey games but it’s something. It’s better. I search the crowds and I see them. Miles is stood up, no doubt, searching for me too still wearing that stupid shirt.
When his eyes connect with mine, he smiles wide. I lift up my hand sheepishly and wave, he waves back before tapping on Kennedy and Scarlett’s shoulders and pointing to me. They both get up and wave their hands as if they’re trying to flag down a taxi. I laugh to myself before the lights start to dim and Eva Devinsky starts her routine.
She’s gorgeous as I watch from the railing, basically drooling. She glides and spins to‘I’d like you for Christmas,’by Julie London, not missing a step or a beat. It’s hypnotising watching her gracefully work around the ice. I could watch her for hours if I could. She finishes with a flourish and the crowd cheers, and I whoop. I move towards the entrance, knowing that I’m next. This is it.
They announce my name on the intercom as I glide onto the ice, getting ready in my starting position asVideo Gamesby Lana Del Rey begins.
CHAPTER 26
MILES
Imeant it when I said that she was mesmerising. Watching her here, in her full outfit, the music reaching the speakers and the rink almost full of people. She performs her routine flawlessly, not a single misstep. Her face is concentrated but effortlessly beautiful. She glides across the ice gracefully, each spin and turn landing smoothly.
I can’t tear my eyes away even if I wanted to. There is something so elegant and satisfying about watching her skate. I watch as she gets lost between the lyrics and the movements. I look around to see everyone else with the same expression: pure hypnosis. Even though playing hockey is similar with the adrenaline and the thrill but this feels so different. When we’re on the ice we’re fighting, roughing each other up as we try to score a goal. But this?
This is completely magical. Utterly consuming. I could watch her like this for hours and I would never get bored. If she didn’t hate it when I watch her practice, I could spend the rest of my life just sitting in this seat while she moves around the ice.
She looks so peaceful while she dances, her body moving seamlessly with the music. I can tell there are so many intricate patterns and details that she puts into this routine. Like the way she rolls her head back slightly, the way her arms right down to her fingers flow. Even when her eyes close for a few seconds, there are no faults.
She looks up at me for a split second and I smile at her, but her smile wanders somewhere else in the crowd, and it drops. Her face turns sour as she turns back around, skating in the other direction. My heartbeat quickens and my stomach twists. I try to find who she is looking at, but I can’t see anyone else other than Kennedy and Scarlett who are watching her beside me with adoration.
Her routine comes to an end, and we stand up to clap and whoop. Wren gives a shy smile in her finishing position before skating off the ice. I walk down to her as she’s getting off the ice, not able to wait any longer. Even when I get down to her, people are still cheering.
“You did amazing. Like, so fucking good, Wren,” I say when she steps off. I slip my hand around her waist and kiss her on the cheek. She doesn’t throw me a confused look like she usually does, instead she slips out of my grasp and pushes away from me which is worse.
