Page 44 of Ice Dance

I laughed. “No, no, it’s all good. Just don’t tell everyone for at least a week, okay? Can you do that? Keep your mouth shut?”

“Jesus, what is it? Have you been having an illicit affair with a bullfighter?”

I laughed harder. “Case, damn. Stop. No, well . . . kinda.” Jen was in the background telling Casey to shut the hell up and let me talk. “So . . .” I took a deep breath. Why did this feel as though I was telling Casey I was coming out. “I’m dancing the gender open with Hasegawa.”

Silence.

I laughed again, to fill the quiet. “Did you hear?”

“Hold up . . .” I heard rustling, a door creaking open and closed, and then the background noise fell away. “Say that again.”

“I’m dancing in the Meridian with Hasegawa in the gender open category.”

“Shit.”

My smile fractured. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“It’s a mistake, Cam. Can you get out of it?”

I sat back in the seat and looked around. Nobody else was paying me any mind, but it felt as though I’d suddenly been exposed. “No, why? I’m doing this.”

“He fucks everyone up, Cam. You know this. What are you doing?”

I’d expected disbelief maybe, but not blatant disrespect. “I’m⁠—”

“Cam, look. You don’t need him. You had your solo entry.”

“I know that⁠—”

“You’ve got this on your own. You were doing just fine. He’ll chew you up and spit you out like he does everyone he’s ever danced with. His touch ends fucking careers. I don’t understand why you’d do this. Come by the rink, let’s talk, you an’ me and Jen. Maybe you’ll listen to her⁠—”

“No,” I snapped. “I thought you’d be happy, man. We’ve been practicing, and it’s going to work. His form is . . . it’s something else. Hasegawa is another level⁠—”

“Who doesn’t give a shit about you or your career. He’ll use you like he does everyone.”

I propped my elbow on the bus window frame and sank my fingers into my hair. It felt as though he’d torn the rug out from under my feet and left me reeling. I’d expected support, not to get my ass chewed out.

“If you dance with him, you’re done,” Casey said. “Don’t you get it? He’ll make you look like a fucking joke.”

I curled my hand into a fist. “You know, I wanted a little support from a friend, but fuck you too, Casey.” I hit end call and flopped back in the seat. The woman seated next to me gave me the side-eye. Yeah, she’d heard it all.

By the time I’d grabbed my stuff and gotten to Saga’s studio, Casey’s call had left me hollowed out and unbalanced, full of doubts and distracted.

I paced the studio floor, hands in my hair. What if he was right? I didn’t want to think like that, didn’t really believe Hasegawa was that vicious, but what if I was wrong? It was true, he’d left a swathe of broken dancers in his wake. Was I next? He had already ditched me once. Was I the sucker for going back for more?

“You alright?”

I hadn’t heard Hasegawa come in. He stood by his bag on the bench, frowning over at me. He had on the tight sports top, the short-sleeved one that complemented his lean, warm-toned arms, paired with loose, gray linen pants.

I dropped my hands from having them locked in my hair. “Yeah, yeah. Where’s Dylan?”

“She’ll join us later. She said to get busy on something we can show her from the battle routine.”

“Good, good.” I paced to the balance bar and back again. It wasn’t good. I was too wired, too angry for this. “Alright, let’s get on with it.”

He took a few minutes to stretch out, while I stood back, arms crossed, biting my lip. The man had muscles that were subtle. Stamina, but hidden strength. We’d need to do a lift or two, probably toward the end of the middle section of the dance, post-argument. He easily had enough strength in his arms to lift and support me, but it was going to take practice.

“Let’s warm up,” he said.