Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
SIERRA
“OKAY, NOW DO it,” Scarlett says.
She’s sitting on my suitcase as I try to pinch the zipper closed. She scrolls through her phone and reads off the names of all the pair skaters attending the competition. We’re headed to Lake Placid for the Senior B competition.
Even with all my energy on zipping my overstuffed suitcase, my thoughts trail off.
I can still feel the phantom movements of Dylan’s tongue on my clit.
The sound of the gasp that left me when he slipped inside me.
It all felt like too much and not enough at the same time.
Then when the morning light slipped through the curtains, I watched him sleep.
So calm and angelic—completely opposite to the very non-angelic things he did to me just hours earlier.
I feel renewed and somehow more like myself.
It’s as though I hadn’t known I’ve been trapped in the ivory tower of my own making.
It’s when Dylan came along and broke me out that I realized how much I miss out on because of my thoughts.
For some reason, the way he kissed me made it feel like I broke a shackle.
“These skaters have to be part-time models. Look at the Russian team.” Scarlett shoves her phone in my face.
The couple were ahead of Justin and me at the Olympics and completed their long program to perfection.
I wasn’t worried, but the moment I felt the loss of Justin’s hand in mine, I knew we’d lost it.
They won gold. I won a lifetime of pain.
Scarlett seems to realize that a little too late but still tosses her phone on the bed like it never happened. “So, what did you pack in here? Bricks to toss at the other skaters?”
With one final tug, the suitcase closes, and I slump beside it in relief. Scarlett stands and tries to lift it but fails miserably. She chooses to strengthen her mind muscle rather than any of the ones on her arms. “We’re gone for two nights. Lidia said to pack everything I’ll need.”
Her brows quirk. “You need knitting needles and yarn?”
“Knitting helps me relax.”
“You and my grandmother would be great friends.” Scarlett pauses. “If she were alive.”
“You weren’t complaining when I knit you that cardigan.”
She drags the suitcase to an upright position. “That was for a concert, and I love you for it, but will you really have time to knit?”
I shrug. “What else am I going to do for hours in the hotel room?”
“I’ve got that all figured out for you. There’s a gift in your suitcase. You’ll thank me later.” I narrow my eyes, but she gives me a mischievous look, knowing I can’t open the suitcase and check right now. “Or you can do whatever Dylan is doing. I bet he never gets bored.”
“Your interest in his personal life needs to be studied.”
She snorts. “The guy is like a disco ball. It’s hard to look away from him. But you two together? Impossible.”
“Hotter than your Russian team?”
“Way.” She beams, helping me up from my slumped position on the floor. “Besides, I doubt any of these skaters started their partnership with a hot make-out on the crash mats.”
We carry my suitcase and gym bag with my skates and costume to the front door. It’s only when I get into Lidia’s car that she tells me Dylan has hockey practice, so he’s driving himself to the arena in Lake Placid later.
“I’M HERE,” DYLAN says as soon as he bursts through the doors to the waiting area, just as I counted thirty-two whole minutes since I’ve been here, laced up and ready to go. All the skaters turn to look at him, and he doesn’t bother even smiling at anyone. He looks exhausted.
His hair is disheveled when he brushes it back and pulls on his backward baseball cap, and he’s got on a crewneck and sweats. He drops his skate bag with a thud, then slumps on the bench beside me.
Before the performance we get Friday to familiarize ourselves with the arena and practice one last time before the show.
Here, we do both our short and long program, and we get a score for each individually, before they’re combined to show our final standing.
The free skate—or long program—is what I’m stressing about.
If we do well on that, it’s where we’ll rack up the major points.
“Relax.” Dylan bumps my shoulder with his.
“I am,” I mutter. He was late. We could have tweaked so much in our programs.
“Your level four shaking is making everyone question whether there’s an earthquake.”
“And your scowl is putting them at ease? I think you scared some of the kids.”
“Are you pissed at me or something?”
“What? No. I’m just … nervous.” This is our last shot to even be considered for a bigger competition, so I’m a little irritable. Dylan quietly puts something on my thigh, and when I look down, it’s a Reese’s peanut butter cup. The gesture squeezes the crap out of my heart.
“I didn’t mean to be late, Sierra.”
“I know,” I say. “I said I’m not pissed at you.”
“You blink twice when you lie,” he says simply, finishing lacing his skates. “And your nose twitches a little, like Pinocchio.”
“You—”
“Stop it,” Lidia scolds. “We all just got here. How are you arguing already?”
“We’re not arguing,” I say.
Dylan leans into me and places a hand on my tense shoulder, as though we’re best friends.
His hand is warm on my cold skin, and I pretend that’s the reason goose bumps start to rise.
I glance up to see him wearing a wide smile, and I mirror it for Lidia, who remains unmoved by our forced display of camaraderie.
“I’m going to sign you two in. Go find some place to warm up.”
She walks through the double doors to the administration desk, and I watch her descent until she’s completely out of view. I discreetly pull out my pill bottle, the one with the pink knitted sleeve.
“Anxious?” Dylan asks.
I’ve been taking them quickly before some practices, though I don’t need them as often. He’d only know that if he’d been watching me. “It’s a crutch, I know,” I admit. “Sometimes it feels like I’m cheating.”
He frowns. “Cheating?”
“Like I’m taking the easy way out. I used to be able to do this without a pill. So many athletes do it every day without help.” I’m rambling.
“That’s not cheating, Sierra,” Dylan says. “Doing what you need to do to function. To perform. You think taking care of yourself is a shortcut?”
I swallow hard. “You know what I mean. It’s not the same.”
“I don’t,” Dylan says. “Think of it like hockey. I couldn’t play without five other guys on the ice.
Doesn’t mean I’m not pulling my weight. Or like skating—we can’t do this without each other.
Your medication isn’t doing the work for you.
It’s just one piece of the team helping you perform at your best.”
I stare at him. Dylan makes it sound so simple, doesn’t even let me dwell on it.
Dylan holds his hand out to me, and we head to the rink. That’s when I notice what he’s wearing.
“Where did you get that?” My question comes out accusatory, and my face feels like it’s on fire.
My partner follows my gaze to the jacket he’s just slipped on. It’s the Team USA windbreaker customized with my last name on the back. It’s a little tight on him, but of course it still looks good.
“You left it in my car,” he says casually.
“And you kept it? Why the hell would you wear my jacket around like that?” He’s wearing that windbreaker like a medal. Almost like he would wear his own jersey. Full of pride.
“What? Can’t a guy rep his favorite figure skater?”
I deadpan, “You don’t know any other figure skaters.”
“Don’t need to. You’re the only one worth paying attention to.” Dylan pulls me along, and I’m still caught on how my name looks on him when his grip tightens.
“There’s your boy toy.” Justin walks by with a plastic smile. “Since when does he do these competitions?” Dylan asks.
“Since they didn’t get invited to the Grand Prix last year.”
Dylan snorts. “Probably regrets leaving you now.”
“I doubt it. He didn’t look back, just up and left and told my parents he felt terrible, but his parents forced him to decide because they were funding his skating.”
“He didn’t try to talk to you after?”
“He did, but I didn’t care to hear what he had to say. But I’m sure he sees how much I’m struggling. Probably glad he left me. Sometimes, I want to tell him off.”
“He doesn’t deserve a word from you. Not a single breath. Next time he comes up to you, I want you to tell me.”
I nod. “Do you think I deserve this?” I ask without much thought.
“Why does that matter? Do you want it?”
“So badly.”
“Then it’s yours,” he says easily, like it’s the truth.
Once we’re on the ice, it’s like all the nerves that plagued my mind and body just moments earlier disappear. But we’re surrounded by a dozen other skaters who blatantly stare at me. They see me as either an Olympian or the dead girl walking.
“Don’t look at them. Look at me,” Dylan says.
I try to, but then I hear it. No way she’ll make a comeback with the hockey player. Poor thing. They call her the jinx. I heard Petrov was forced to get a new partner.
“What gets you out of your head?” Dylan asks suddenly, pulling me back.
I can’t think, only hear the whispers around me. “It used to be skating. But I don’t know anymore.”
He nods quietly. Then we’re in motion, and boundaries that may have existed on the mats are no longer in place. On the ice, we leave everything in each other’s hands, with complete trust. At least, we try to.
I look at him this time, and I take a breath before Lidia’s calling us over. The only words out of her mouth for the next hour are again and the frustrated Russian variation, snova.
Sierra: Seriously? You packed a vibrator in my suitcase?
Scarlett: You’re welcome. Put it to good use. There’s no better place than a hotel room.