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In a fair and perfect world, I wouldn’t be sitting in this arena today. Instead, I’d exist in some alternate reality, starring alongside my favorite characters inSailor Moonanime.
All my problems would be scripted, with the outcomes bound to end in happiness, and everything would be a far cry from the dumpster fire that is my life right now.
The only bright spot in my entire year so far is seeing the sexy guy at the SportsPlex last weekend. Well, until I discovered that he’s related to the very person I loathe the most on this planet. The cocky girl who calls me an “overrated cunt” every chance she gets and thinks she’s God’s gift to this sport.
Her skating is so basic.
Coming face to face with her sexy brother is a cruel joke by the universe, and I never want to witness it again.
Then again, I can’t stop thinking about his eyes, his smirk, his lips. The way my body reacted when he grabbed my waist from behind and breathed against my—
“Um, hello!” a high-pitched voice interrupts my thoughts. “Are you on earth with me, Miss Brave?”
“Huh, what?”
“Exactly.” My coach, Miss Price, snaps her fingers. “It’s seating time, and you’re standing there looking like a dead fish. Get it together.”
The lights inside the arena are flashing, a sign that The West Coast Expo are about to begin.
I take a seat, desperate to shake the remaining thoughts of Travis away, but his words have dominated my brain for days.
“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
I’ve replayed him helping me over that fence too many times to count, wishing he was someone else—anyone else, so I could have a person outside of my coach and my terrible family to talk to off the ice.
I guess I’m not meant to have any friends in this life…
“Before this starts, let me say something.” Miss Price places her hands on my shoulders. “I know this is your least favorite event, but those bad days are in the past and your future is brighter than ever. You were always meant to be a solo skater and you’re the best in the world.”
“Thank you, Miss Price.” I force a smile, even though I don’t agree with her words at all.
The West Coast Expo isn’t just my least favorite event, it’s an open wound that has yet to heal.
Whenever I walk through these doors, I’m forced to face what could’ve been, whatshould’vebeen.
My true expertise has always been in pairs skating, and fate once dealt me a perfect partner by the name of Tristan Chamberlain. With him at my side, we won every competition we entered, wowing judges with our special brand of perfection.
We never fell, never faltered.
But when I turned seventeen, he served me a cruel and twisted ultimatum: become his partner in the sheets as well, or else.
I didn’t like him enough to let him be my first, so he danced with someone new; I was left to rebuild alone.
My move to singles has been one hell of an adjustment, and although journalists call me “an absolute force,” I’m not “phenomenal” like I was in pairs.
Or “utterly spellbinding” like Penelope Carter…
“Ladies and gentlemen…” a soft voice comes through the arena’s speakers, interrupting my thoughts. “Please welcome Tristan Chamberlain and Monica Taylor, skating to ‘My Sweet and Tender Beast,’ for their short program.”
I have no desire to watch a single second of their routine, so I pull out my cell phone and open my text messages. Unfortunately, fate hasn’t texted me with an offer for a better life.
I only have messages from my stepsister, Harlow.
Text from Wicked Biatch
Hey. Can I just pick you up when the competition is over? Because like, at your age, do you really need someone cheering you on?
Wicked Biatch
