Page 32 of Hate You Most

Dakota was playing with her, as if she had all the time in the world and as if Viktoriya wasn't already as wet as the water flowing down upon them.

Dakota applied more pressure between her thighs. “You okay?” she asked over Viktoriya's shoulder, and all she could do was nod. She was more than okay, she was being taken care of in a way nobody before had managed to.

Viktoriya almost gasped, as Dakota entered the tips of her fingers. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do,” Dakota said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t think about you.”

Viktoriya opened her mouth to speak but a primal sound escaped her lips instead. She took a deep breath, forcing the words out quickly. “I’ve thought about you too. In fact…” she said, spread her legs further and let Dakota move deeper into her. “Can't seem to get you out my head. Can't get enough of you.”

All thoughts left her mind for a moment, as an involuntary moan pressed itself out of her.

“Is that why you showed up here the first chance you got?”

“You offered,” was all that managed to escape Viktoriya’s lips, before her mind completely slipped into the sensation of pleasure.

Viktoriya's legs quivered beneath her. She gripped the cold shower wall in a panic as she came. She was loud with Dakota. Loud in a way she hadn't allowed herself to be before. It was freeing.

June 10th, 2013.

—Viktoriya's apartment.

Detroit, Michigan, night.

Viktoriya kicked off her shoes in the entrance and closed her door with a huff.

She had less than a year left of training in America. It was exhausting and complicated and she was constantly sore and blue from pushing herself on the ice.

A quad axel was just out of reach for her, and she needed to land it consistently before February of next year. If she landed it, she would be the first woman to do so in competition.

She was spending half of her week training on the ice with Dakota, and half the nights rotating between her place and her own apartment. It had become clear to Viktoriya that this was more than she’d originally thought, but she couldn't get her feelings involved.

After the Olympics she was going back to Russia, and she'd have to put all her feelings in a little box in the back of her mind and take it with her. Hide it away in a far corner of her mind, only to be opened in her dreams and on melancholic nights alone.

And somehow she knew that would never be enough for her. Therefore she told herself she was only curious.

That was the excuse she used as she opened her laptop and waited for it to wake, the familiar hum filling the quiet of her apartment. The overhead light stayed off, the quiet glow of the screen was enough. She pulled her hair back, sat cross-legged on the couch, and opened Facebook.

She didn’t use her real name, that would have been reckless.

Instead, she created a new profile. A profile with a fake first name, no last name, no hometown, and a profile picture stolen from some obscure stock image of a girl at the beach with her back turned toward the camera. An account that could disappear in a second if her family ever found it.

She typed Dakota’s name into the search bar before she could talk herself out of it.

There she was.

With a public profile. Verified athlete page linked underneath. Dozens of friends that Viktoriya didn’t recognize. Coaches, brand accounts, fan accounts. Fan accounts of their rivalry.

Viktoriya clicked on the photos before she could hesitate.

Dakota smiled in most of the photos. Her hair was messy and pulled back as she leaned against the boards in leggings and a sweatshirt, cheeks flushed. She looked so fucking good, and so fucking happy.

There were competition photos too—her posing with different medals and her standing on podiums—but Viktoriya scrolled past those faster. She’d already memorized those moments in real life.

It was the small things that made her pause.

Dakota laughing with their teammates. Dakota barefoot on a hotel bed, holding up a coffee like a victory trophy. Dakota had photos that Viktoriya didn't know existed. Moments between practices, pictures of Viktoriya from behind that could be mistaken for other people, given how blurry they were. Pictures of their silver and gold medals next to each other on a brown dresser. Pictures of their time together, but still anonymous enough that it could have been with anyone other than her.

There were photos with other skaters from their team mixed in, but for the most part it was those in-between moments where Viktoriya was allowed to just exist with Dakota anonymously.