4. leo
FOUR
leo
W hen I arrive at the rink, Victoria’s already out on the ice, gliding around in a perfect figure eight, completely ignoring me. Figures that the coach’s daughter would already be here staking her claim to the rink. She doesn’t glance my way, probably because acknowledging my existence would feel the same as chewing on wood splinters.
I strip off my hoodie, my gaze tracking the strong line of her leg as she extends it high into the air. She still has that stunning grace on the ice paired with a confidence that’s unstoppable—not that I’m paying attention, of course. It’s just hard not to notice. A guy can appreciate an athlete’s hard work without it meaning anything, right? Except Victoria isn’t just graceful and strong—she’s the walking embodiment of everything I’ve been running from. Dangerously beautiful and from a world so privileged I never fit in. Falling for her again would be a disaster. She’s made it clear where we stand, and I’d be a fool to forget it.
Which is why, for the next week, I plan on being the most unbearable partner she’s ever had. Sure, I’ll skate with her, but I’ll make sure the ice isn’t the only thing that’s painfully cold.
“You’re late,” she calls out, zipping by with a glare.
“Is that how you greet everyone?” I let my bag drop to the floor with a loud thud. “Not even a ‘hello, nice to see you’?”
“That was my greeting,” she tosses over her shoulder without missing a beat. Apparently, she reconsidered her ultimatum not to work with me, because Coach sent a text late last night saying she was in.
For now.
We can't even greet each other without an argument. Maybe we should have laid down some ground rules before stepping onto the ice. She’s clearly bent on making this a short-lived partnership, and honestly, shouldn’t she be grateful I didn’t rat her out for breaking into the arena?
I lace up my skates and head to the ice, catching her as she circles the rink. “Ready to let me show you how it’s done?” I shoot her my most irritating grin.
She stops and gives me a withering once-over. “Show who how it’s done?” Her eyes drop to my hockey skates. “In those?”
I cross my arms. “For the record, I have zero intention of wearing those ridiculous skates.”
“You want to get back on the hockey team or not?” She skates off, not even waiting for my answer.
I watch her do a half-lap before taking off after her. “You know, I thought you’d quit after walking out. Wasn’t expecting you to actually show up today.”
She picks up her speed, almost like she’s trying to shake me. “I don’t owe you an explanation. Besides, I figured you’d have bailed on this whole thing by now.”
“Me?” I give a defiant laugh, almost catching up with her. “I don’t quit that easily.”
She stops abruptly, and I barely have time to veer around her, slamming into the wall with a painful thud instead.
She smirks—and maybe I’m wrong—but it looks like she enjoys seeing me injure myself.
“You know, it hurts a lot more when you’re not wearing pads,” I fume. “For future reference, you might want to give a heads-up before slamming the brakes.”
She crosses her arms, leveling me with a look. “Aren’t you the big hockey pro? Shouldn’t you be used to sudden stops?”
“Sure, but this isn’t a game, Victoria. I thought we were supposed to be... partners.” It’s hard for me to even say the words.
She points at my skates. “Rule number one: You can’t skate with those. There’s a pair of men’s figure skates on the bench.”
“Fine,” I mutter, stalking over to change my skates. If it wasn’t for Coach’s punishment and the fact that I need to get off that bench, I’d walk out right now. But I’m not about to hand her the satisfaction of telling her dad I wouldn’t cooperate.
I pull on the new skates and stand on the edge of the rink, feeling like an idiot. “Happy now?”
“Yes,” she says, barely looking my way. “Now let’s see if you can keep up with some drills.”
I scoff. “Keep up? Please. ” She’s testing me to see if I can skate?
“Ever skated with a toe pick before?” She lifts an eyebrow.
I look at her like she’s crazy—the equivalent to asking a professional swimmer if he’s ever been in the water. “I’ve been on skates my whole life. How hard can it be?”
“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug and then takes off like she’s an Olympic speed skater, leaving me in the dust.
“Hey, wait...” I stammer. As soon as I step on the ice, the skates feel off, and she’s pulling ahead like a speed-skating show-off while I try not to trip over these awkward blades.
“Hurry up,” she yells over her shoulder. “Or are you always this slow?”
“I’m just warming up. I’m a professional, remember?” I shout, more for myself than for her.
She glances back with a defiant smirk. “Then prove it, Ego .”
“Fine, I will,” I mutter under my breath. But right then, my toe pick catches the ice, and I face-plant spectacularly, crashing onto the ground and then sliding across the ice like a human Zamboni. It’s more than embarrassing—it’s downright humiliating—and Victoria doesn’t miss a thing. She stands at the edge of the rink, covering her mouth like she’s fighting a laugh. The spark in her eyes makes it clear—she’s thoroughly enjoying the show.
Victoria’s lips twitch as she folds her arms. “Guess that toe pick is harder than it looks, huh?”
“It’s fine,” I grind out, my jaw clenching. “These skates are just... uncomfortable. They’re heavier than my hockey skates. It’s like strapping bricks to your feet. And then there’s that stupid toe pick.”
Her eyebrows lift. “The toe pick is kind of essential.”
I gesture at my skates. “These blades? They’re out to get me. Hockey skates are curved so I can pivot on a dime. Not to mention my ankles are screaming for mercy because this leather boot is so flimsy.”
“Poor Leo,” she teases, giving me a fake look of pity while skating around me. “Do you need me to hold your hand?”
“Not a chance,” I mutter, rising to my feet. “But if I go down, don't even think about mentioning the toe pick again.”
She stops and shrugs. “If you can’t keep up and want to quit, I’ll understand. I’ll just tell my dad it didn’t work out. Give you an easy out.”
Oh, she’d love that. A convenient excuse to make me look bad. But I’m not giving her the satisfaction—not when I’ve got something to prove and ten weeks to get back in the game. Nice try, but I’m not that easy to get rid of.
“Not happening,” I growl, skating up to her. “I’m staying until the end, even if it means I have to turn into a dancing ice monkey for a halftime show.”
She scoffs. “Like I want to work with someone who thinks my sport is a joke.”
“Who said I think it’s a joke?” She’s obviously in peak shape, and judging by her speed from earlier, she’s in top form.
She raises an eyebrow. “I can see it on your face. You don’t want to be here, so let’s just call it quits. I’ll tell Dad we’re incompatible. Given our history, I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Just like that, we’re incompatible . She hasn’t even given me a chance to prove myself. Apparently, she still thinks I’m not worthy of the ice she skates on. I’m just the lowlife whose heart she squashed in college with her frosty iron fist.
I plant myself in front of her, arms crossed, refusing to budge. I think she’s trying to get me to leave, which is ironic since I was the one trying to force her out. Somehow, she has me reconsidering this whole miserable agreement.
Well, two can play that game. If she thinks I’m going to bail now, she’s dead wrong. “We might be incompatible...” I move closer to her, and I can see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “But I still have to serve my time. So we need to figure out how to work together. Because, sweetheart , like it or not, I’m not going anywhere.”
She frowns and leans against the wall. “Why? We both know this is a waste of your time—and mine. Admit it, you don’t really want to be here.”
“Of course I don’t want to be here. But if doing my time means getting back on the ice, then I don’t have a choice.”
She shakes her head and skates off, faster this time. I find it downright irritating that every time I try to have a conversation with her, she darts away from me like she wants to annoy me.
I take off after her, trying not to fall on my face this time. “Why do you keep skating away from me when I’m talking to you?”
“So I don’t have to look at your face,” she fires back, keeping her eyes glued to the ice. “And to see if you can keep up with me.”
“Easy,” I say, picking up my speed. Just as I catch up, she pulls a quick turn, leaving me to overshoot and skid past her.
“I thought hockey players had better reflexes.”
“You did that on purpose.”
“If you can’t keep up, don’t blame me.” She shrugs and takes off again. It’s a game to her, this cat-and-mouse chase on the ice. She’s trying to prove I’m not cut out for her sport.
“Oh, I’ll keep up,” I mutter to myself, picking up speed and finally passing her with a wicked grin. “Eat my dust, Ice Queen.”
She rolls her eyes, like she’d enjoy kicking me in the crotch with her toe pick.
I pull to a quick stop, about to ask her what her problem is when she crashes into me, sending us both to the ice. She lands on top of me, legs tangled, her hair falling over her face and mine.
The air between us shifts as she catches her breath. Her face is inches from mine, and her eyes flare slightly. I can feel her chest heaving, and the weight of her body pressed against mine makes my skin flame with heat.
“You knocked me over,” she accuses, sounding indignant, but breathless.
“Pretty sure you crashed into me , Ice Queen.”
“I most definitely would not crash into you and end up...” She takes in a fortifying breath. “Like this.” Her words come out weakly.
We stare at each other, neither one willing to move. All of my thunder is gone now that her delicious scent washes over me as her soft skin brushes mine. She feels familiar and warm, and every cell in my body begs to drag my hand down her back or feel the curve of her waist. Victoria’s grey eyes turn hazy, and when they drop to my lips for a split second, I know I need to get out of this position as quickly as possible—otherwise, I’m going to do something stupid like kiss those soft pink lips without thinking of the consequences.
If I make that mistake, Victoria will make me pay dearly.
I clear my throat loudly. “You know, I can’t exactly get up with you on top of me.”
“Oh... sorry,” she says before rolling off of me.
I sit up, watching her with a mix of frustration and something else I don’t want to name. “You okay?”
She meets my gaze, cheeks flushed, and nods. I can’t tell if she’s embarrassed or still shocked that we ended up on top of each other.
“Just let me know if you’re planning to wipe out on me again,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
“So you can bodycheck me instead?” She smiles, and for a second, it almost feels like old times. The Victoria I remember from college is back—the girl who didn’t take crap from anyone.
That’s when I realize that I’m going about this challenge of making Victoria quit the wrong way. Annoying her might be fun, but it won’t make her walk away; she’s too sharp for that. I need a new strategy, and I think I’ve just figured it out. I need to make her feel like she did when she fell on top of me. Completely flustered.
“Just so you know,” I say, looking at her, “you’re going to have to get comfortable with me working very closely with you. I’ve seen those lifts in pairs skating. There’s no place those guys don’t touch.”
She raises an eyebrow, a tiny ripple of doubt in her eyes. Then she tips her chin up. “I can handle it. I’ve worked with lots of men.”
A hot streak of jealousy flames inside me. I can’t let Victoria see that she’s stirred up some highly irrational feelings for her. She’ll just use it to her advantage.
“Good, because I don’t expect you to pretend you’re thrilled about this.” I move in front of her, blocking her path. “But know this—I’m not quitting. There’s nothing I won’t do to get back on the ice. So, either you put up with me or find someone else.”
“Believe me, I would if I could,” she mutters before looking away.
“So why don’t you?” I ask, genuinely curious. “You’re the one who agreed to this. I don’t have a choice. You do.”
Her expression falters for a second, and she looks away. “It’s... complicated.”
I frown. “You’re a grown woman, Victoria. Seems like there’d be plenty of guys willing to skate with you.”
She huffs a small, bitter laugh. “Well, maybe not when they find out I’ve fallen in every major competition in the last three years. Not exactly a lucky charm, okay?” Her voice has that same frustrated edge I know all too well—because it’s how I feel every time I get benched after a fight. Once people see you a certain way, it’s nearly impossible to change their minds.
“I want to do this on my own,” she says. “Prove I’m still worth competing for at least one more year before they slap me with the ‘too old’ label. I can’t afford to slack off on practice if I want to make it to the big events next year. Plus, I need to keep up my sponsorships to cover my expenses. If I don’t train, I lose the funding. I’ve already lost so many sponsors in the last few years from all my falls, I can’t afford to lose any more.”
I blink and put my hand up to stop her from saying more. “So—let me get this straight—you actually need me?” I’m full- on gloating over this fact. The Ice Queen needs me to be her partner.
Her jaw clenches, and she shoots me a withering glare. “No, Leo, I need a practice partner who can keep up until my real partner recovers.” The way she emphasizes real is like rubbing hand sanitizer into a paper cut. Of course I’m just temporary. Just like in college.
“Like I said.” I nod, a slow smile spreading across my face. “You can’t do this without me.”
She lifts an eyebrow defensively. “That’s not what I said.”
“Yes, you did. Because without me, you couldn’t skate this final year of your career.”
Her eyes flash with indignation, because she knows it’s true. “This is temporary, Leo, not a partnership. I only need you until Ben’s back.”
I cross my arms. “Well, then, if I’m so necessary for your skating comeback...” I give her the most irritating grin I can muster. “I want you to ask me to stay.”
She narrows her eyes. “Ask you?” A laugh bursts out of her. “You’re delusional if you think I’m begging you for anything.”
“No, really,” I say, savoring this moment. “If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask. Because let’s face it, you don’t have any other options.”
“Ha! Never,” she scoffs, crossing her arms defiantly.
“Really?” I frown. “Too proud to admit you need me? Suit yourself,” I say with a lazy shrug. “I’ll just stand here and wait until you’re ready.” I lean casually against the boards, smirking.
Her mouth drops open in outrage. “But you were ready to throw your skates across the rink two minutes ago!”
“That was before I realized how much your career depends on me,” I say, dragging this out because it’s the highlight of my day. “So here’s the deal: I’ll stay, but only if you ask nicely. And not just ask—you have to beg me to stay. Those are the rules, or I walk.”
Her eyes widen as she throws her hands in the air. “You’re ridiculous! Do you even hear yourself?”
“Loud and clear.” I gesture to the ice in front of me. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“You’re such a—” She spins away, muttering to herself as if deciding whether to strangle me, throw me out of the rink, or both. “This is insane! I can’t believe you have the audacity to even suggest this.”
I shrug. “You can always walk away. I’m sure your dad would love to hear you passed up his generous solution.”
She whirls around, glaring at me like she’d like to murder me with a hockey stick. “Fine!” she snaps, the words coming out through clenched teeth. She props one hand on her hip and juts her chin out. “Leo, would you skate with me?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do? Because it sounds like you’re choking on your pride. Want to try again, maybe with some sincerity this time?”
“UGH. You’re impossible!” she groans.
“I know. It’s part of my charm,” I say. “And since I’m so delightful, it would help if you got on your knees.”
She scoffs. “I would never .”
“Victoria, you shouldn’t say things you don’t mean. We both know those knees aren’t going to bend themselves.”
Her eyes narrow. “I hate you, you know that?”
“Strong words from someone who needs me,” I say sweetly. “And trust me, the feeling’s mutual. But I’m still the best shot you’ve got. So... down you go.” I point to the ice.
Her face flushes with fury as she lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “OH MY GOSH. You’re the absolute worst!”
“And yet, here I am,” I reply cheerfully. “Still waiting.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “We will never speak of this again. Understand? NEVER.”
“That depends... on whether you actually ask me nicely.” I smile because we both know I’ve won.
She huffs, curling her fists before dropping to her knees on the ice.
“Leo,” she begins in a strained voice. “Would you... be my partner?”
I tilt my head and tap my chin. “Hmm. Not bad. But you could throw in a little more enthusiasm.” I cross my arms, relishing the discomfort on her face. I wish I could take a picture of it. It would bring me so much joy to pin her picture to the wall and shoot darts at it.
She bites her lip, looking like she’d rather swallow a bucket of nails than agree to this. Apparently, the secret to irritating her isn’t annoying her—it’s making her be nice to me. Who knew revenge could be this sweet?
Her fake smile turns borderline terrifying, and for a second I think she just might strangle me. “Leo. Would you please—pretty please with a cherry on top—Be. My. Partner?”
I pause, drawing this out for as long as possible. “I guess that’ll do,” I finally say. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She scoffs as she gets to her feet.
Already this plan is better than the original. If being ridiculously sweet flusters her more than fighting, then I’m all in. Forget the old “thorn in her side” plan—I’m going to charm her to death. I’ll be so nice , it’ll drive her away screaming.
As she leaves, she mutters under her breath, “I hope your toe pick makes you fall on your face!”
I call after her, “I’m looking forward to working with you, too!”