Page 11 of Ice Dance

But there had been something there. Something promising between us, but just out of reach.

We might actually be able to do this.

“This is pointless. I have a plane to catch.” He picked up his bags and walked out without looking back.

And . . . it was over.

Dylan sighed, then held up a hand. “Wait here.”

She went after him, leaving me standing alone, breathing hard.

He wasn’t going to do this. He had a million hangups, and I was clearly one of them. Maybe if he’d had longer to prepare, mentally, then we’d have been able to make it work. But he’d just had his partner walk out on him. He had a whole routine in his head. Asking him to let me step into six months of training and not make him look like an idiot in front of the selection panel on Friday was a long shot at best. I probably would have run from the room if I were him too.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, opened Spotify, and scrolled to “Desperado” by Rhianna. Quick tempo, steady beat, sensual, perfect. I stretched out then hit play and spilled my body and mind into the dance, letting the music flow through me. Dancing made everything else fade into the background. I’d always danced, even when I was told not to, told to stop. There was no stopping me from dancing. It was in my blood, my bones. Dancing on ice just added an extra layer of danger that I craved.

If Ren Hasegawa came back, I’d dance with him. But I wasn’t chasing after him. I wasn’t that desperate. He needed me more than I needed him.

This had to be his choice.

SEVEN

REN

“We’re setting ourselves up to fail again,” I told Dylan as she jogged down the corridor to keep pace with me. “He’s good, I’m not denying that. I just . . .” I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t dance with a man in a competition. In training, it was fine. Training was one thing. Training was sporadic. Competitions mattered. If I was going to dance with a man, I’d need to spend hours—days with him. In close proximity. Again and again. His energy was all wrong. He wouldn’t listen. The incident in the bar had shown exactly how this was going to go.

“I saw something back there,” Dylan said.

“No you didn’t. You just don’t want to go home,” I told her. “Stop hanging your career on me. Find someone else, find him.”

“Ren,” she snapped, pulling me to a stop before I could reach the foyer and the other guests, most of them here for the event. “It’s four days. I will make this work. Will you trust me?”

I did trust her. I trusted her more than anyone else in my entire life. I needed her, that was true. And I didn’t want to walk away like this. I turned around again, bags in hand. “We won’t win.”

“We definitely won’t if you don’t try.” She sighed. “I know how much you want this. Don’t let Alisha’s leaving take this opportunity away from you. You need this.”

Damn. She had me there. I sighed and dropped my shoulders. Four days till selection. Four days to somehow make Navarro into a dancer who could match my pace and style. Four days with a man who infuriated me every time we’d met.

“Is that a yes?” Dylan asked, coming up alongside me.

“Four days, and we can walk away at any time if it’s not working,” I told her. This was not a negotiation; these were my terms.

“Of course. I’m not going to force anyone to dance who isn’t comfortable.”

How much did I want this win? Enough to dance with Navarro. “Alright.”

She grinned. “It’s going to work.”

“I wish I had your faith.”

We headed back to the conference room. Inside, tinny music played. I pushed the door open and slowed as we entered the room. Navarro was dancing. The song leant itself to slow, deliberate movements. He moved from one step to the next, flowing, as though his body was made of liquid. He was, admittedly, captivating.

Then the song ended, and he pulled up, panting hard, hands on hips. He smirked. “You staying, then?”

I regretted it already. “Four days.”

“We’ll know in two if it’s worth hanging around for more.”

Friday we’d dance in front of the selection panel. A private, no-audience dance. They’d want to see that as a couple, we worked. And that wouldn’t be the end, if we got through. In fact, it would just be the beginning. If we got selected, months of training would follow. Was I really going to dance with a man in the Meridian?