Chapter 11
“I, um, I have to go clean up,” I mumble, gesturing down to my knee, before Elisa can even open her mouth to respond. She’s going to want to talk about the show and Brayden, and I do not have the energy for that right now.
I sprint back out of the house, ignoring the stinging cut on my knee, and head straight for the rink. Brayden and I don’t have training for a while, but I always keep some of my things there just in case.
The trainer’s room is empty since the first session of the day hasn’t even started yet, and I mindlessly gather the peroxide and gauze and bandage I’ll need, but when I push up onto the table and roll up the leg of my winter running tights, I stop and take a breath.
And then another, sitting there letting time slip by.
The last half hour was too much.
First Freddie and our little trip down memory lane, and now Elisa, who is going to want to talk about the stupid love triangle plotline from the show.
Brayden and I haven’t actually figured out how this whole thing is going to work, but we definitely need to—and soon—because otherwise everyone is going to see right through it, especially Elisa.
Okay, one thing at a time. That’s all I can do.
So I go see the trainer to get my cut cleaned and wrapped before heading into the locker room to change for training.
This I can do, this part is easy, and then when Brayden gets here, I can pull him aside and we can figure out how the hell we’re going to pull this off.
With fake dating, like something out of a teen rom-com, there are always rules. That’s what we need. Rules. Or guidelines. Something to keep us on the same page.
And that’s a problem because I can already hear Brayden’s voice in my head, telling me exactly how he’s going to feel about that, and an hour later, when we’ve found an empty corner of the rink, stretching out while we wait for Freddie and Riley to be done with their training session, I nearly laugh out loud when he says, “Yeah, I’ve never been very good at rules. ”
“That’s too bad,” I say, keeping my voice down and glancing around to make sure no one else is near us. “The only way this is going to work, the only way I’m going to do this, is if we have rules.”
“Rule number one, Adriana needs rules,” he jokes, moving down into a standing lunge as I mirror his movement.
“Exactly.”
“Fair enough, I guess. What’s rule number two?”
“No one else can know it’s fake.”
“Duh,” he says casually, “and three?”
Now that he’s here and asking me, I know exactly what the rules need to be, and they come flowing out. “We only pretend in public. I can’t…if we’re going to do this, at least one part of my life needs to be real.”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding along, though his eyes sort of narrow at me, like he heard something in my voice he didn’t like. “Listen, if you’re having second thoughts…”
“I’m not,” I insist, though that’s not entirely true. I’m one giant second thought right now, but this feels like it’s our only option. My only option.
“Okay, what else then?” he asks, still sounding skeptical.
“This might be the thing that kills it for you,” I say, but he looks doubtful.
“You can’t cheat on me.” He starts to respond, but I cut him off.
“If this is going to work, there can’t be some girl out there who can post that she hooked up with you.
It’ll defeat the entire purpose of this: good publicity that leads to sponsorships. ”
“You’re right,” he says, shrugging. “No one else. Which is what I was going to say if you’d let me speak.”
“Really, it’s that easy?”
“It’s that easy,” he agrees, shooting me a grin. “I do have some control over myself, you know?”
“Could have fooled me,” I shoot back at him, but smiling. “Okay then, I think that’s it.”
“Not quite. I have some rules too.”
“I thought you didn’t like rules?”
“I’m evolving.”
“Spit it out, Brayden.”
“If we’re in public, then we’re in a relationship. Method acting. It’s gotta be all or nothing. So if I do this,” he says, leaning over to grab my hand and twine our fingers together, “no making a joke and pulling away.”
“Fair enough,” I say.
“And if I do this”—he tugs, pulling me closer, making me fall out of my low lunge, my hands landing on his shoulders, our faces millimeters apart—“you’ll go with it?” he murmurs, his mouth hovering over mine.
“Yeah,” I agree, my eyes flickering down to his lips and then back up again, half anticipation, half panic. Is he really going to do this here where anyone could see? But then again, isn’t that the point?
He sends me a half grin and then leans back as my hands slide away from him. I exhale and swap legs into another lunge. “I take it back,” I say. “I have one last rule.”
“Okay?”
“If this becomes too much for either of us, we can call it off, no questions asked and no hard feelings. We tell everyone it didn’t work out and we’re still good friends and partners.”
Brayden clears his throat and nods. “That sounds fair.”
“So then there’s just one more problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Telling Elisa.”
“Fuck,” he says, falling out of his lunge down to the ground.
“Yeah,” I say, following him and stretching out into a split. “Exactly.”
But then my attention gets pulled by something on the ice.
It’s Riley, up in the air, hands on Freddie’s shoulders as he guides her through a complicated lift, her body twisting around before landing in a bridal position as they travel over the ice.
It’s a little slow, a little bit off the beat of the music, but it’s clean.
And from Georgia’s shrieks of joy off the ice, she agrees.
It’s risky to be adding a move like that to a routine so late in the season, but I know Freddie and I know Riley; they’re not afraid of a little risk, especially when it could launch them to the top of the podium.
“Wow,” Brayden and I say together.
And suddenly telling Elisa is the least of our problems, but even as that registers, relief slides through me. This I know how to handle. It’s time to get to work.
· · ·
“Yes! Adriana, that’s gorgeous; no, don’t let it slip now. I can read your feelings on your face. Keep it up! Perfect, Brayden!” Camille yells as “Vienna” fades to silence and we finish up a run-through of our rhythm dance.
That was so good. There’s nothing in the world like nailing a performance, and we’ve been on fire all session. Adrenaline is still sliding through me, and even though we’ve been out here for two hours, I feel like I could go ten more.
God, I love this so much. If only everything could be about skating.
We’ve been wrapping every training session with our full program, alternating the rhythm and free dances to make sure we’re capable of doing both even when we’re exhausted.
We leave for Paris in a week and it’s time to make sure we can hit our routines no matter what is happening around us, on or off the ice.
Riley and Freddie can add whatever lift they want to their routine—if Brayden and I skate like this, no one can touch us.
Skating to the edge of the rink, I hear applause coming from the stands. Looking up, I squint and then blink and look again, completely convinced that it cannot possibly be my dad up there bringing his hands together over and over again for an ice dance routine.
He’s standing and moving down the metal bleachers, and by the time we’re off the ice, he and Camille are standing together waiting for us.
“Well done,” he says, reaching out and clapping Brayden on the shoulder.
“You can truly skate, young man”—and then he turns to me—“and Adriana, I have never seen you look so…captivating. There’s something different about your performance—have you been doing those exercises I sent you about emoting? ”
I shake my head. “No, sorry. I haven’t had time.”
“No?” he asks, but doesn’t look upset, only pensive. “Ah, well, whatever works, right? Well done, you two, truly. Ah! There’s Charles, I have to speak with him. Excuse me.”
He says it like he’s extricating himself from a conversation with acquaintances, which…I guess is kind of true. I can’t remember the last time he said that many words to me unprompted.
“Well,” Camille says, her eyes wide and twinkling. “Looks like you two have a new fan.”
“Walter Russo, ice dance aficionado, who would have thought?” I ask, a small, slightly hysterical laugh escaping with the words. I’ve never heard my dad utter more than a passing half compliment to my skating before and maybe there’ll be a day when that doesn’t matter to me, but it’s not today.
Camille wanders over to where Dad and Charles are talking, and when Brayden turns to me, I let out another excited noise.
“We are going to kick so much ass in Paris,” he says as we walk through the doors leading out into the lobby.
Taking a deep breath, I slide an arm around his waist and lean in closer. “Yeah, we are.”
For a split second, he tenses, but then he looks down at me with a smile and I feel his entire body relax. “So we’re really doing this?” he whispers.
“Really fake doing this,” I correct.
He barks out a laugh. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and his arm comes around my shoulders.
He’s gross after a hard practice, but then again, I am too.
I scrunch my nose while he brushes his lips against my temple, the contact sending a soft wave of warmth over my skin.
Then he snaps a picture of us. It’s casual and looks super candid and actually kind of adorable. “Post?” he asks.
“Post,” I agree.
He types out a quick caption.
Training with @AdrianaRusso has never been better, even when we’re both sweaty messes after practice.
With #JrWorldChampsParis fast approaching our time as junior competitors is coming to an end.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the last two years.
We’ve grown so much together, and I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.
She’s my ride or die and I have her back #AllTheWay #RussoNElliot