3. Savannah
THREE
SAVANNAH
“My life is over,” I say as I flop down on my couch in the apartment I share with my younger sister.
“That feels awfully dramatic,” Kelsey says, barely looking at me from her computer screen. She’s an overachiever and decided to take a summer class this semester, so she’s got plenty of homework to keep her busy when she’s not working her part-time job at a clothing store by the university.
“It is dramatic,” Max says. He drops his bag onto the floor next to mine and comes over to sit next to me on the couch. “Everything is going to be fine, Sav.”
I roll my eyes and scoff. “Yeah, right.”
Kelsey looks up again at me and then shuts her laptop. “Alright, tell me what’s going on.”
I tell her everything. How Tati is leaving and that our new coach is Logan Sokolov.
She has the decency to gasp when I say his name.
She remembers when he broke my ankle. I was cursing his name over and over again and on the verge of buying a Logan Sokolov voodoo doll off Etsy so I could stick pins in it while I watched him compete at the Olympics.
I didn’t do it, though. I am an adult after all, but I really, really wanted to.
“He’s the one who?—”
“Yes,” I answer quickly. “Broke my ankle, ruined my life.”
Kelsey sighs and gives me a pointed look.
She’s always been the more rational one of us.
As the middle child of the family, I have a tendency to act out of emotion.
I’m always trying to prove myself. Which is stupid because, as Kelsey and my older brother tend to remind me, our family literally packed up our lives in Nebraska and moved to Colorado so I could work on my skating.
Both of my siblings claim that I’m the favorite child, which may or may not be true, but I still feel the nagging need to prove myself not just to my family but to everyone.
Going to the Olympics is my chance to do that.
I was supposed to do it two years ago, but, well, my life was ruined.
“Your life is not ruined,” Kelsey says patiently.
“Look at you. You just graduated from college and get to spend all your time skating. You’ve got a great skate partner.
” Max smiles at this compliment. “And now you’ve got a coach who has been to the Olympics and knows what it takes to get there. You should feel lucky.”
If it were any other Olympic gold medalist, I probably would.
But Logan Sokolov practically ran into me on the ice and didn’t so much as look at me as I lay writhing in pain on the ground.
There was never an investigation either because, unofficially, he’s the golden boy of the United States ice dance community, and god forbid he gets in trouble.
“He didn’t even apologize to me today,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. He looked at me like I was the crazy one. The audacity.
“You didn’t really give him a chance, even if he had wanted to. You basically yelled at the guy all day,” Max says.
I didn’t yell at him all day. I raised my voice once and then tried to ignore him for the rest of the day. Coach Tati came to watch us at one point and gave me a glare that told me I needed to behave. So, I tried my best… kind of.
“I’m just not happy about this.”
“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” Max mutters. “We don’t have a choice, though, unless you want to find another coaching team, which would be even harder on us this close to the Olympics.”
I sigh. “I know. I know. I’m sure I’ll get over it. I can’t say I’ll ever like the guy, but I’ll try my best to listen to his coaching.”
“That’s all I ask. Now I’m starving. You got any food here?”
Kelsey laughs. “She’s got like ten pounds of grilled chicken in the fridge.”
I shrug. “It’s easy to prep and throw in with other foods.”
Max hops off the couch. “Cool. I’ll make dinner then.”
Kelsey looks from Max to me and shakes her head.
She doesn’t understand our dynamic. Max is my skating partner, but he’s also become one of my best friends.
He’s also, on occasion, my sexual partner, but that’s usually before competitions when I need help relaxing.
We’re not together together. We’ve had that talk and set those boundaries and are both free to see other people (not like we have much time for that).
When the time comes that we want to be in a relationship with someone, we’ll stop sleeping together. Simple as that.
Until then, we’re just having fun.
Max makes us a chicken stir fry for dinner before heading back to his place. I take a relaxing bath, do some stretches, and crash into bed.
The next morning, I’m up early and still not feeling great about the whole coaching situation. But I’m going to try my best to listen. I can’t promise I won’t make any snide remarks. He did break my ankle after all.
I get to the rink before Max and make my way to the locker room. We get to start our days a little later now since we’re finished with college and don’t have to plan our sessions around classes. I put my stuff in my locker and grab my skates before heading out to do warm-up stretches.
Logan is standing outside the room, waiting for us.
He’s in black sweatpants and a white long-sleeve T-shirt today.
His hair is a little messy, like he ran his fingers through it a few times before calling it a day.
If I didn’t hate him so much, I might find him a little attractive. Good thing that’ll never happen.
“Good morning, Savannah.” His tone is friendly, and it pisses me off even more.
I nod at him. “Coach.”
“Is Max here yet?”
I shrug and walk past him into the room. He sighs as I pass, and while I feel a tiny bit bad for being standoffish, it’s not enough to turn around and tell him Max will probably be here in five minutes. Max is almost always five minutes late. I’ve decided it’s how his internal clock works.
I find a mat and start stretching, and a few minutes later, Max walks in with Logan trailing behind.
“You look lovely today, Sav. Ready for a good day?” Max asks, standing next to me on the mat.
I glare at him. “Shut up.”
He chuckles as I bend over into a hamstring stretch.
“Oh yes, that’s what I love to see first thing in the morning.” Max slaps my ass, and I stand up, laughing.
“What the hell?”
He laughs and shrugs. “Can’t help it.”
I glance at Logan in the mirror. His smile has faded, and I can tell he’s trying to work out what’s going on between me and Max.
Tati never asked for details of our friendship, and we never offered them, so I doubt she told Logan anything.
I guess on the outside, it could potentially look like we’re together.
I’ll let him think whatever he wants, though. It’s none of his business.
“Can we stretch, please?” I ask, folding back over into my hamstring stretch.
“Someone is tense this morning,” Max mumbles.
I don’t respond as I move into my next stretch. My muscles are sore from the skating yesterday. After having a few weeks off, it’s hard to get back to it without being sore. It didn’t help that I tossed and turned all night long.
“Are you sore, Savannah?” Logan asks. He must’ve noticed my wince.
“Obviously.”
The corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to smile but doesn’t. He keeps his arms crossed over his chest as he watches me switch legs and lean over.
“Have you tried ice baths?” he asks.
Max laughs. “You don’t want to see Sav in an ice bath. She’s the biggest baby.”
I roll my eyes. “Gee, thanks.” Then I direct my response to Logan. “I tried it once and… it didn’t go well.”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
I may have screamed at the top of my lungs for the entire twenty-five seconds I was submerged in the ice water. You’d think since I’m on the ice every day, I’d be able to handle an ice bath.
“I think we should try it again. It’ll really help with the soreness. I used to do it after every practice,” Logan says.
“Are you asking me if I want to try it again, or are you telling me I need to do it?”
“I’m never going to make you do something you don’t want to do, but I am strongly suggesting you try it. Both of you.”
“Damn it,” Max whispers, realizing he’s been included in this, too.
I sigh. I have heard that ice baths are beneficial, which is why I originally tried it. It might not hurt to give it another chance. “Fine.”
This pleases Logan. “Good. Bring a bathing suit tomorrow, and we’ll do it after practice.”
I hope I don’t regret this.
After we finish stretching, we head to our lifting room, where we move through a series of lifts while Logan watches us and takes notes on his phone.
It feels like we’re being judged in a competition, the way he watches us with such intensity and then looks down at his phone.
I imagine he’s writing ‘they suck’ or ‘not trying enough’ or ‘her leg looks like a wet noodle.’
“You can stop glaring at me, Savannah,” Logan says when I hit the mat after one of the lifts.
“I’m not glaring at you.”
“So your face naturally scowls while you’re doing lifts? I’ve got to admit, the judges won’t like that very much.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s a little unnerving to have you staring and then writing down notes.”
“You should be use to that by now. How many competitions have you been in? You’re welcome to see what I’m writing, though, if it’ll make you feel better. I’m just jotting down what lifts seem to be your strongest and a few things I’d like you guys to try.”
He seems genuine, but I still don’t trust him. I grab Max’s hand and start the same lift over again. Max hoists me onto his shoulder and then lowers the front half of my body, head down toward the ground and holds me in place.
My ribs are going to be sore tomorrow from all of these lifts, but we do them again and again until Logan tells us he wants to see them on the ice.
So, we get our skates on and do the lifts again.
Max and I have done these so many times that they should feel like second nature.
Normally, they do, but for some reason today, something feels off.
Maybe I’m not positioning myself right, or Max’s hands aren’t in the right spot.
I’m not sure what it is, but I can feel it. And by the look on Logan’s face, he can see it too.
“Alright, that’s enough for today,” he calls out as he watches one of the videos he took of us.
I skate up to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
He sighs and closes his phone. “Why does something have to be wrong? Go home, Savannah. Get some rest. Tomorrow the real training begins.”
He walks off, leaving me standing there wondering what the hell that means.