Yvonne
Six weeks later…
I looked out the plane window as the city of Milan came into view.
I’d never been to Italy before, and I was looking forward to hopefully seeing at least a little bit of it while I was here.
I couldn’t be away from the team for too long but depending how long we lasted in the tournaments I might be able to squeeze in a day or two for sightseeing.
Someone shifted in the seat in front of me, and I saw a cascade of golden hair slide down in the space between the seat and the window.
Antoinette Lindstrom. The power forward was a beast on the ice, taking chances that a lot of players wouldn’t.
She was an incredible player -- fast, precise, and a little bit of a wildcard, shoving her way through defenders with a sunny smile that belied how seriously she took the game.
The plane touched down and we all trudged through the small airport to the bus that would take us to our temporary accommodation.
Unlike some of the other International Games athletes, we were being housed in a university dormitory instead of temporary rooms. That meant one thing: real beds, not the crappy cardboard ones the Games were famous for.
When I got on the bus I slid into a seat next to Greta Heitz, a teammate at Vancouver.
I wouldn’t say we were friends – I didn’t really have friends – but we were definitely friendly.
I settled into my seat and watched Lindstrom walk down the aisle, heading for the empty seats behind me.
She was breath-takingly beautiful with her pale skin, bright blue eyes, and all that blonde hair.
When it was down like it was now, it went past her shoulder blades in thick waves like she was some kind of a shampoo model.
It was a far cry from my fine, stick straight hair.
Lindstrom was wearing faded jeans that rode low on her hips, hugging her thick thighs in a way I didn’t hate, and a tight scoop neck tee shirt with the Seattle team’s logo.
Without the sports bra that I usually saw her in, her breasts looked fuller, almost too big for her slim frame.
I had a vision of taking one into my mouth, then shook my head to push the image out of my brain.
“Stop scowling Volkova,” she teased as she walked by my seat. “We’re in Italy, representing our country in the International Games. That’s something to smile about.”
When my frown deepened she chuckled. “Someone should loosen you up,” she teased, leaning close to my ear so only I would hear. “I have some ideas.”
My face turned a little pink as a vision of all that blonde hair settling between my thighs flashed through my mind. What was wrong with me today? Why was I suddenly having all these dirty thoughts about the woman who’d been a rival for years? Maybe I was dehydrated from the flight or something.
“You two are so cute together,” Greta said.
I was startled out of my daydreaming about Lindstrom.
“What are you talking about? We’ve been rivals since college.”
Greta shrugged. “I always thought there was a vibe between you. You’ve got that enemies-to-lovers tension going on.”
“There’s no vibe,” I said a little too quickly, striving to keep my reaction off my face.
The truth was, there was a vibe, on my side anyway. As much as I disliked Lindstrom I found her unsettlingly attractive. I could tell by Greta’s face that she didn’t believe my protests, but before she could push me on it we heard a shrill whistle.
“Listen up ladies.”
We all fell silent as one of the coaches stood at the front of the bus, an iPad in hand.
“I’m going to announce the room assignments.”
I heard some mumbling in Russian as someone translated for a couple of the players who struggled with English.
“First off, Volkova, you’ll be in room fourteen ten with…,” she consulted her screen, “Lindstrom.”
My stomach dropped, I couldn’t help the groan that escaped my mouth.
I was stuck spending three weeks in a shoebox sized room with Toni Lindstrom, the one person I didn’t want to room with.
The universe had a sick sense of humor. There was no sense arguing though, the coaches wouldn’t change their mind anyway, and arguing would only get me branded as being difficult.
Greta laughed like the room assignment was the funniest thing she’d heard all day. “I guess you’ll see if there’s a vibe now when you’re snuggling together under the blankets.”
“There are two beds,” I snapped.
She smirked. “They can always be pushed together.”
Somehow I could tell that Lindstrom was watching me.
Sure enough, when I turned around in my seat she was looking right at me, a bright smile on her face.
Why was this woman always so happy? I knew for a fact that her parents were both Swedish.
Shouldn’t she be more stoic? She couldn’t possibly be any happier about our room assignment than I was.
After a forty-five minute drive, we arrived at the dorm that would be our temporary home for as long as we stayed in the Games. We all walked single file down a dark hallway, searching for our rooms. Mine and Toni’s room was about a third of the way down, not too far from the bathroom.
Using the key that Coach had given me, I pushed the door open and turned on the light.
The room was small, but clean, with a large window along the far wall flanked by two medium sized dressers and a shelf with a hanging bar that I assumed passed for a closet.
Apparently university students in Italy didn’t have a lot of clothing.
One side of the room had a table with two chairs and a little charging station, and along the other wall was… a bunk bed? I just stared at it in confusion. I hadn’t slept on a bunk bed since I was seven years old and had a sleepover with my neighbor.
“Do you want to be underneath me, or do you like to be on top?”
My head swung around to Lindstrom, my mind going to a very dirty place. Again.
“What?”
She cocked her head, studying me. “Do you want the top bunk or the bottom, Volkova?”
“Top please,” I said.
“You got it.”
Lindstrom dropped her bag on the floor and practically threw herself into her bunk. She didn’t bounce.
“Oh my God, this bed is like a piece of foam on a concrete slab!”
She popped up again and pulled the thin mattress off the bed, revealing a thick piece of plywood underneath. She sighed.
“Maybe those cardboard beds would have been better after all.”
She patted the top bunk. “Hop on Volkova, see what you think.”
I climbed the two step ladder, thankful that at least the ceiling was high enough for me to sit up on the bed without hitting my head. It would make me feel less claustrophobic.
“It’s hard,” I confirmed.
Lindstrom burst out laughing, and for a few seconds all I could do was stare at her sunny smile. It lit up her whole face. It made me want to make her laugh all the time.
“You are the master of the understatement, Volkova.”
I lowered onto my back to stare at the ceiling.
Something about this woman was dangerous I realized.
She was like the sun and something deep inside made me want to move closer.
But somehow I knew that like that guy who flew too close to the sun in those old mythology stories we studied in school, getting too close to Lindstrom would destroy me.