Page 35 of Hate You Most

She bowed once. And let the tears fall for the first time.

As she went to the kiss and cry she was inconsolable. Her coach tried to comfort her, but Viktoriya only pushed him away slightly.

She watched the replay and then she watched Dakota skate— she could hear the cheers and could tell from the moment that her music started, that Dakota was brilliant. She always was.

When the scores came up, the arena erupted again.

Gold: Viktoriya Volkova, Russia.

Silver: Dakota Sanchez, United States.

Viktoriya closed her eyes. She'd been ignoring Dakota for the past two weeks because she knew this moment would come eventually. She had won, which meant their rivalry was over—she'd never return to America, she'd be staying in Russia—and she would never skate against Dakota Sanchez again. So talking did them nothing good.

On the podium, the Russian anthem filled the arena. The gold medal was placed around her neck, its weight real in a way nothing else had ever been. She stared out at the crowd, at her country, and cried all over again.

Dakota stood to her left, her silver medal catching in the light.

She refused to meet her gaze, Dakota didn't understand what being here and what winning gold meant for her. Viktoriya had endured days of interviews for the Russian media, and days of smiling and mingling with government officials her father knew. Officials who wholeheartedly supported their country's leader and who expected Viktoriya to share the same values as them. Her parents had been with her since they landed, she hadn't had any time to think or enjoy the moment.

Nobody asked her how she felt about any of it, or what it was that she wanted. Her father was the founder and executive chairman of some media company, a billionaire and businessman with a ton of political connections. Her path forward was already decided and all she had to do was put a smile on her lips and comply.

It was Viktoriya’s victory—It was Russia's victory—but it was the rivalry that everyone talked about.

Viktoriya shouldn’t have been there.

She slipped around the corridor and tried her best to keep her feet silent against the carpet. The Olympic Village was quieter at night, but never empty. It was filled with security and felt more like an odd prison than a hotel stay. Doors closed somewhere far down the hall and the sound boomed down the long hallway.

She'd told her roommate she needed to train at the downstairs gym, and the girl had praised her for being so dedicated even after winning tonight.

Dakota had texted her room number the moment the ceremony had ended, and Viktoriya had argued with herself about it all night.

It was Russia. It was her parents being close by. It was the gold medal on her dresser. There were so many reasons why she should've stayed away from Dakota tonight.

She near frantically checked that the hallway was empty before she knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately.

They stared at each other. Same glint in Dakota's green eyes as on the ice. Pure burning passion. She would've pulled her close and kissed her right there, if it weren't for reality having caught up to her.

Dakota was in grey sweatpants and a faded T-shirt, dark hair pulled back messily, silver medal nowhere in sight. Her face hardened the second she saw Viktoriya standing there.

“So,” Dakota said flatly. “You’re alive.”

Viktoriya swallowed. “I didn’t know how else to⁠—”

“I didn't expect you to show up,” Dakota cut in. “You've ignored me for the past two weeks. You haven't answered any of my texts, or my calls. You haven't talked to me at a single training session, you stopped talking to me the moment we boarded the plane, and you could hardly look at me at the ceremony. And now you show up in the middle of the night like this is all normal?”

The hotel room was dark behind her, with the only sound being from a TV that illuminated the backwall.

“It’s been ten days.”

“What?” Dakota half whispered.

“It’s been ten days,” she repeated. “Not two weeks, ten days.” It's not like Viktoriya had kept count, that would've been insane.

“Oh, fuck you. If you're here to rub it in about your gold medal then I don't want to hear it.”

“You gave me your room number,” Viktoriya stated. “I thought we could⁠—”

“You thought we could… what? Have sex? You thought we could fuck after I haven't heard a word from you?” Dakota half laughed, as she stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand what's going on with you. I understand perfectly well, I'm not stupid.”