Chapter 7 #2
“Listen, I’ve gotta run, but give Dad a hug for me.”
“And give one to Brayden for me!” she says. My eyes widen in panic, but her face is completely free of irony and her tone has no sarcasm laced through it. “Tell him I miss him!”
“Sure!” I say, and end the call when I see Maria opening her mouth to respond.
“Hey!” she protests. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“You weren’t going to say goodbye.”
“You have to deal with it eventually. Might as well be now.”
“I’m hoping that by the next episode they move on from that ridiculous storyline.”
Maria clearly disagrees. “You guys trended like all night. You probably still are. There’s no way they’re going to move on from it. You should see some of the edits people are making, like legit tribute videos.”
I push off the bed and grab my skate bag. “Ugh, enough, I really do have to get to training.”
“Not me,” she says, setting her computer on the floor and snuggling back into her covers. “I need at least three more hours.”
“Night,” I say, flicking the light off as I leave her to her sleep.
· · ·
“I beat you here,” Brayden says as I hustle out of the locker room, looking around for Camille and sighing in relief that I’m not actually late.
“I had a video call to Beijing this morning and it ran over a little.”
“Oh?” he asks, unable to keep the tension out of that one word.
“She’s just sort of ignoring it.” I answer what he was really asking. “You know Elisa, anything she doesn’t like she pretends like it doesn’t exist. She’s talking about Nike instead.”
“Well, that’s good money-wise, right?”
“Yeah, it’s very good money-wise,” I agree. “I still can’t believe the show went there, though. Like, what was even the point? It’s not like anything is happening between us or you and Elisa.”
Brayden cringes. “You’re still upset.”
“Yeah, I am. It feels so cheap. You’re my partner and Elisa’s my sister and those two things are so much more important than some stupid fake drama for a reality TV series that isn’t even about us.
We’re not in Beijing. We’re not even senior skaters yet.
And we don’t need this distraction before Paris.
It’s not the Olympics, but it’s the most important competition of our careers and I don’t want to finish off that podium again. So enough of that, let’s train.”
“You’re right,” he agrees as we skate out onto the ice.
Last year we finished fourth. There’s nothing worse than a fourth-place finish.
I’d rather finish last. That would have stung less than to come so close to a medal and leave empty-handed.
To be fair, no one had expected us to finish that high, and all three couples that outscored us are competing as seniors now, but still, I’ll never forget the sting of seeing our names out of the medal standings.
I have to try to focus on that and nothing else.
We don’t have the rink entirely to ourselves this morning. Riley and Freddie, along with their coaches, Georgia and Harry, have laid claim to one half of the ice and left us the other.
Camille comes in and smiles at the both of us waiting for her.
“Ah, the It Couple,” she jokes.
I roll my eyes. Camille loves reality TV, especially dating shows and all the drama. She raises her eyebrows suggestively and Brayden laughs, so I join him, but it’s totally forced and I’m guessing she can probably tell.
“Okay, well, since your chemistry is apparently an internet phenomenon, let’s not disappoint your adoring public.
We’ll start off today with some choreography work—let’s make sure that connection to the music and each other shines through for the judges too.
We’ll work on Thrones first. Remember, forbidden love, the fate of the entire world rests on both your shoulders, and one false step, even taken together, will bring it all collapsing from under your skates.
I need to see that on your faces.” She says it to both of us, but that last bit was definitely directed at me.
“No pressure,” I mumble. Maybe the stakes are a little less life-and-death for us, but the ideas resonate. Something about all of this feels fragile this morning in a way it didn’t a few short days ago. Maybe I can use that, feel that as we skate. Maybe that’ll help.
I reach out for Brayden’s hand and he takes it gently, before I spin away from him and we get into our starting pose, back-to-back, both hands linked together.
A cello that starts off the Game of Thrones medley our rhythm dance is set to sings out slowly in the brief “Rains of Castamere” intro section of the music.
I spin to face Brayden, and his hands withdraw from mine before stroking up over my arms to my face, one landing at the base of my neck, the other falling to my waist as we spin in place and then fall into our first dance hold.
Camille stops us there. “Okay, Brayden, a little less ‘I’d like to rip her clothes off’ and a little more ‘we’re about to fight a war.’ ”
Brayden laughs. Camille doesn’t mince words and she’s said stuff like that to us before.
It’s definitely a thing he does when he looks at me, enough for everyone watching that show last night to notice.
And it’s not like it’s not nice, to be looked at like that, but immediately my gaze flashes over to the other side of the rink.
Did Freddie hear her?
No, of course he didn’t. He and Riley are working through a complicated lift sequence, one I haven’t seen them do before in competition. It’s really difficult and it kind of looks like crap, but his attention is completely focused on her, obviously.
I need to stop this.
I’m never going to get through the next few weeks if I don’t stop it right now.
I’m a professional athlete. I am one of the best figure skaters in the world.
I can stop worrying about the boy I used to have a crush on to concentrate on the biggest competition of my life.
Right? Of course I can. I’m a Russo. That’s what we do. We win.
And then it occurs to me that I didn’t get a correction for my expressions from Camille.
Huh. It worked. Okay, then.
“Let’s do this,” I say to Brayden, and he grins as we move back to center ice to start all over again.
From that moment on, training is business as usual and we are on fire.
“Yes! Fire. Ice. Forbidden love. War. Sex. Tragedy!” Camille yells from the other side of the boards as we skate through our free dance and the music builds and builds before finally crashing to an end as Brayden mock stabs me while we’re in an embrace and then lowers me to the ice to finish, with his forehead pressing against my neck. “That’s it!”
With every breath I take, his lips brush my pulse point. We hold for another moment before he rises and pulls me with him. I smile and laugh at the way we killed that run-through.
“Awesome,” Brayden says, his arm falling over my shoulder like he did last night in that video clip. I never really noticed before, but I guess it’s something he does a lot, now that I think about it.
Camille’s applauding as we skate off the ice, and so is the small crowd that had gathered without me noticing.
Most of the team is here now, warming up for their own practice sessions.
I can feel a flush burning in my cheeks at the attention.
It’s weird, I don’t mind a huge crowd full of nameless faces, but considering what we all watched last night, this feels like their applause means something else entirely.
Standing off the ice while Katya and Gillian skate onto it for the ladies’ singles practice session, we take in some of Camille’s corrections, because even when we nail a performance, there are always corrections, and that’s it for morning practice.
A sliver of panic brushes against my mind.
Katya and Gillian are junior skaters, like me, but they came up through the ranks with Elisa.
They’re way closer to her than they are to me.
What if they say something to her? I try to ignore them and focus on Camille instead.
I’m being paranoid, and honestly, what are they going to say?
Brayden and I are training together and it’s going great?
“What are you up to tonight? Hot date?” I ask Brayden as we head toward the locker rooms.
“Nah, I think I’m just gonna chill.”
I blink at him, stunned. “But it’s Thursday. You always go out on Thursday.”
He shrugs. “Not always. Besides, maybe it’s time to cool it a bit with Worlds so close.”
“Ah! Brayden, Adriana, I’m glad I caught you,” Charles Monroe calls, climbing down from a spot on the bleachers and cutting off my complete disbelief in Brayden’s ability to cool it.
“Hi, Mr. Monroe,” I say, adjusting my bag. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to let you know that I’ve been getting calls about you two this morning. Mostly brands who’d like to partner up and have you feature them on social media a bit.”
“Seriously?” Brayden asks, his eyes widening.
“Seriously,” Mr. Monroe says. “One of my social media kids at the agency took some initiative and set up a joint social media account for you two.”
“Wow, that’s…something,” I say, furrowing my eyebrows. “There’s actual interest?”
“Like I said, nothing huge, a few ad requests, mostly product placements, but still, far more than most junior athletes would expect. I’ll have the products sent over with what you’re supposed to post written up.
They requested that you’re in the picture together.
Apparently, your appearance in that show last night really made an impact.
They love you two together. Sponsors love a marketable couple. ”
“Oh, we’re not—”
Brayden nods, though, cutting me off. “Sure, sounds good. Thanks, Mr. Monroe.”
Mr. Monroe leaves us with a smile and heads toward Charlie and Maria, who are sitting on the bleachers surrounding the rink, waiting for their practice time in about an hour.
I turn to Brayden and send him a disbelieving smile, but he scoops me up and spins me around and I let out a squeak that draws everyone else’s attention.
“Do you believe this?” he asks after setting me on my feet.
I shake my head. “It’s crazy.”
“They love us together. I mean, who wouldn’t?”
“We do make a good team.”
He stares at me for a second and then a tick longer. Long enough for it to feel a little uncomfortable. “What?” I ask.
Glancing around, he takes my hand and pulls me toward a trainer’s room just off the rink. When the door swings shut behind us, he turns to me and looks me dead in the eye. “What if we were more than that?”
Oh.
Is that what he wants? Like, for real? I mean, he’s always flirted, but that’s Brayden being Brayden. He can’t actually mean…
“Brayden…” I say, starting there and trying to figure out what to say next, how to untangle the panic swirling in my mind.
He must see the confusion playing across my face, because he shakes his head.
“No, not for real. I mean, just, you know, for social media, play it up for the fans and the sponsors. We’re great together and you heard Charles, they want us as a couple, so that’s what we give them.
We could be the next big thing in US Figure Skating, and you know the money that comes along with that is pretty good. ”
He’s right. Damn it. He’s very right.
“I…” His eyes light up. “I have to think about it.”
The light fades a bit, but he nods, stepping closer and taking my hands, squeezing gently, and God help me, that makes me feel a little better about this.
This is Brayden, my partner, the guy I trust to lift me in the air as we skate full speed across the ice.
“Think about it and let me know, but promise me to really consider it. Give us a chance.”
“I will. I promise.”