Page 28 of Back Outside Edge

“Just the once. He's a perfectionist, I take it.”

“He puts me to shame.” His arm falls off my shoulder, and he gives a little shrug. He looks uncomfortable, like he'd rather be talking about anything else. “He's a great coach. I need the push.”

Does he, though? From everything I've ever heard, Stefan is obsessive about his practice. His unyielding routine, the time he takes every morning for mental work, his results in competition, all point to the same conclusion. Does he need someone pushing him harder than he already pushes himself? Can it possibly be healthy?

“Well, you seem to be a winning combination.” It's the most diplomatic I can make it.

Another shrug, and he reaches out to push the elevator button. “So what time do you leave? Unless you changed your mind and you're staying the rest of the week?”

The hope in his voice, when four days ago it would have been dread, turns my heart over. I don't want to leave Frankfurt, and not just because I want to stay and celebrate with the rest of my team, supporting the others over the last couple of days of competition. No, it's because I don't want to leave him, all the more now that he's asked. “I have a few more hours.”

“You're really sure you can't stay until the end?” He's exuding his charming vulnerability again. It draws me in so tightly I’m not certain I’ll ever extricate myself.

“Yeah, Skate Canada—" I'm interrupted by a lurch, and then the lights around us die, the elevator going abruptly silent. A long pause, as Stefan and I wait for something to happen. The doors to open, or the backup lights to come on. Anything.

Instead, the only sound is Stefan's cursing as we're left in the dark, unmoving.

I should have known better than to follow Stefan into this elevator. Not after a week of it being out of service more than in.

A thump startles me, but since it's coming from inside the elevator, I assume it's Stefan, not a repair-person. He's still cursing under his breath, and a moment later, his hand brushes past me, toward the console. "Shouldn't there be an emergency button or something?"

"Probably." Not that he'd find it in the dark. "Here." I fish my phone out of my pocket, and the glow of the screen is enough to light up his face when I glance over at him. His features are drawn, tighter than the situation warrants. "You ok?"

His head shakes, but more in frustration than answer, I think. "Can you turn on the flashlight?"

I do, aiming it at the console, and Stefan picks out what I assume is the emergency alert, jabbing the button repeatedly. Nothing. "Do you know what's supposed to happen?"

"No." He pokes it again. "Is this the right button? I don't speak German."

I shrug, though he's not looking my way. "Me neither, but it's the only one that looks like it might be."

With a grunt, Stefan starts jamming his finger onto all of the buttons, top to bottom. Just in case, I suppose. Still nothing. No lights, no response, no clue whether anyone has any idea we're stuck in here. When he finishes, he sinks down to the floor, covering his face with his hands. "Fuck."

"Seriously, are you ok?" Being stuck in an elevator sucks, sure, but he's not the one who has a plane to catch. Why is he the one freaking out? It's not like we're in any actual danger.

When he doesn't answer immediately, I sit down next to him, propping my phone against the wall, flashlight beaming a bright light in front of us. The light's reflection is more than enough to see his face when I turn back to him. He still looks drawn, stressed, maybe pale, though that's hard to determine without shining my light directly into his face. I lean over, tapping his shoulder with my own. "Stefan?"

He tips his head back, resting it against the wall. "I'm fine. I don't like small spaces, that's all."

Oh. Interesting. "That sucks."

"Yeah." His face flashes with a brief, unhappy smile. "Being stuck in an elevator is basically my worst nightmare."

"Even worse than falling in the short program?" I tease, trying to distract him.

Unsuccessfully, it seems, when Stefan turns to me, the glare obvious even in the diffuse light. The tiger has returned, and he is not amused. "Not funny."

"Sorry." I back down immediately. "They'll get us out soon. We'll be fine."

"I know that," he answers, through gritted teeth. "The problem is getting my body to believe it."

Right. What can I say that might do a better job distracting him? "Do you have any siblings?"

His look is so blank it almost makes me laugh. "Siblings?"

"Yeah, you know. Brothers? Sisters? People with the same parents as you?"

"No." The answer is short, but I think there might be something like a tiny smile forming. "Only child. You?"