Page 10 of Back Outside Edge

“You're telling me.” When I look over at him, puzzled, he smiles at me. “So what's on the docket until then?”

“I don't know. I need to find my coach. Probably check out the gym, if they’ve got one. Maybe a little sight-seeing, if I have time.”

"Good idea. I should find Dad sometime, too."

His dad? Oh, right. "Your dad is your coach, right?"

"Yeah, he mostly lets me do my own thing, but sometimes he has good suggestions.” He doesn’t even sound arrogant when he says it, as if it’s normal to have a coach who doesn’t need to coach.

Which, I suppose, explains why I didn’t see him talking to anyone on the sidelines during his training session. “Oh, sure, yeah, that's fair.” And that was way too many affirmatives in one sentence. I'm so on edge around him; it's ridiculous. Even now he's being friendly. Maybe more now he's being friendly. “Has he always been your coach?”

“Mhm. Ever since I was old enough to put on my first pair of skates. Or he put them on, I guess.” We’re walking out of the arena now, and he pauses at the first juncture in the hall. "Want to go find the gym together?"

Does Stefan want to hang out with me? Still? Are we best friends now? I'm not opposed to the idea, not at all. It's just that his presence does worrisome things to my body, things I have neither the time nor the inclination to follow through on. Not in reality, as much as I've been fantasizing about it. “I'd like to, but I do need to find my coach.” I was supposed to follow her out ages ago, so it's even true.

"Oh, sure, yeah, of course." Well, at least I'm not the only one who puts too many affirmations into one sentence. Or he’s copying me, making fun of my breathless agreement. Is today one big prank against Evan? "Good idea. I’ll find Dad. See if we can get the room situation sorted out."

The room situation. Right. Because despite whatever's been happening for the last few minutes, I'm still an unwanted roommate. "Do you think he'll have more luck?"

"Maybe. He's good at red tape."

He jostles me again, still light. Friendly and physical.

Wait. Is Stefan flirting with me?

No. No, it can't be.

“If not, I guess you’re stuck with me for the week?” My heart is thudding again, palms sweaty. Stefan, in my room, for a week? How the hell will I survive that?

Especially if he keeps touching me.

“Guess we'll see.” He shrugs, like it’s nothing. Like his words aren’t threatening my life due to cardiac arrest. I cannot be tempted into something with another skater. “But Dad knows how much I need my routine.”

“Right.” I force my breathing to slow down, trying to calm my heart. It'll be fine. His dad will fix it, save me from self-immolation.

Chapter 5

Stefan

Amoment later, Evan glances to our right, then back at me. "Isn't that your dad?"

And so it is. Speak of the devil, I suppose. While Evan and I were standing around debating what to do next, Dad, along with a few others, has found me. I recognize most of them. Two of the three American national team coaches, obvious in their suits, and another man who has to be another coach. They have a look.

Dad gives me a small nod of acknowledgement, raising his voice to cover the thirty or so feet between us. “Stefan, syn. I have been looking for you.” Dad's Ukrainian accent is on high, as usual at international competitions. I've never decided whether it's because he talks to other Ukrainians and picks it back up or if he pushes into it to remind people of his birth country.

“I was at the training session,” I reply, doing my best to keep from sounding sarcastic. It's not as if I was hard to find. He knows my schedule, could've been a normal coach and showed up. I don't mind he didn't, because I know what I need to do, but what's he trying to prove? I look back over at Evan, hovering at my side. “I guess I'd better go talk to him. See you later?”

"Should I hope not?”

When I turn my head to flash him a last look, he's smiling back at me, all sunshine and warmth. As usual. "Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world." Not that I'm going to admit it to Dad.

When I get to the group, now waiting for me, I offer everyone a nod. “Hi.” I'm doing my best to be at least somewhat respectful. No need to piss off the national coaches. “What's up? And Dad, remind me that I need to talk to you about my room.”

“Your room?” His eyes narrow, locking on to mine, an ice blue that can go as cold as the color implies, but melts just as easily. He’s a man of contradictions, is my dad. “Is there something the matter with your room?”

I guess we're talking about it now. “They put me in a double. With Evan,” I reply, nodding toward the man in question. His back, anyway, since he’s walking away from us.

“Oh. That is not correct.” Dad's frowning, heavy brows drawn over his eyes. The ice comes out. Someone's in some deep shit. “I will sort it.”