Page 28 of The Fall

“You’re ridiculous.”

Later that day, after Max and I do our weight training and more skating, I’m packing up to go home. Max had to leave quickly because he has an online interview tonight for some part-time work he’s looking to pick up. It really sucks that we don’t get paid much to do what we love. We have sponsorships and prize money, but beyond that, we’re on our own. With our schedules, it’s hard to get normal jobs, so we have to find online work with flexible schedules.

I’m lucky. My parents paid for everything throughout college for me. This is my first year on my own. I’ve got enough saved that I don’t need a job just yet, but I know the day is coming, and I’m not looking forward to it. For now, I’m focusing everything on skating.

I’ve got my bag and I’m walking toward the exit when I see Logan step onto the ice. He seemed in better spirits when we saw him this afternoon. I’m not sure what happened during the costume fitting, but it was like a switch went off, and he was not his normal self.

I walk over to the glass and watch him. It’s easy to see how he was a gold medalist. He glides so perfectly. His spins are beautiful, and his twizzles are smooth. I become entranced watching him.

Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m putting my skates back on my battered feet and skating out to meet him. He doesn’t say anything, just grabs my hand, forcing me to follow him.

It’s surprising how well we skate together. Usually, it takes weeks or even months to get in sync with a new partner, but with him, it’s like we’ve been skating for years. Maybe it’s because of how long he’s been skating. He is a professional after all. But it just feels like we click.

I don’t know how long we skate, but when he starts heading for the exit, I no longer feel exhausted like I did before.

“Thanks for skating with me,” he says as he focuses on tying his shoes. I’ll admit, I was kind of hoping he’d ask me to skate with him again. I felt the tiniest bit of disappointment when I saw him already on the ice. Not that I would ever admit that.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to leave you out there skating by yourself again. People will start to think you’re lame or something.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that. Thanks for saving my reputation.”

“I’m here to help.”

He waits for me to get my shoes on and walks me out to my car. It’s unexpected, and a part of me wants to tell him that I’m a big girl and don’t need him or anyone else to walk me to my car, but I bite my tongue. It feels like he needs this, so I let him and mumble a quick “thank you” when he opens my door for me.

“Have a good night, Savannah.”

“Bye, Coach.”

He smiles before he shuts my door, and I definitely don’t watch him out of my mirrors as I leave. I definitely don’t notice that he doesn’t move from the spot where my car was parked until I’m turning out of the parking lot. And I definitely don’t think about the small smile on his face when he saw me skating toward him as I fall asleep later that night.

TEN

SAVANNAH

“Wakey, wakey.” Max’s voice breaks through my sleep.

“What are you doing here?” I groan, pulling my blanket up over my head. He was definitely not in my bed when I went to sleep last night. I don’t let people sleep over. Ever. Sleep is important to me, and having someone next to me is just annoying.

“It’s ten a.m. Are you planning on sleeping away your one day off?” he asks.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Now, kindly, fuck off.”

“Nope, you have to get up. We have plans.”

I wrack my brain trying to think of what plans he’s referring to, but I’ve got nothing. “We do not have plans.”

“We do. I made them for you. We’re going hiking with Logan. Now, come on, get up. He’s in the living room waiting on your ass.”

I hate the way my heart starts beating a little faster at the mention of my coach’s name. I chalk it up to being rudely woken up in the middle of a REM cycle. “Why are we going hiking with him? Do we not have to see him enough during the week?”

“Because he’s new to town and doesn’t know anyone and I offered our time. Come on. I know you’re still mad about the ankle thing, but⁠—”

“The ankle thing? Need I remind you he broke my ankle and we had to withdraw from a really important competition?”

“Yes, I remember,” Max says. “But he said it was an accident, and it’s not good for you to hold onto this stuff for so long. It’ll mess up your skin or something.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. And you’re not the one who had to have surgery and go through months of physical therapy,” I tell him.