9. Savannah
NINE
SAVANNAH
Costume fitting day is usually one of my favorites, but this year, I’m feeling so much pressure for everything to be absolutely perfect that nothing feels fun. I feel like I’m a tense ball of stress, which isn’t helping anything.
We’ll have two costumes to start with this season. One for our rhythm dance, the theme of which is decided on by U.S. Figure Skating, and one for our freestyle dance, where we can choose whatever we want.
Logan and Tati have been discussing costumes, so by the time Max and I got to see the options, they’d already been narrowed down to the best.
The room we’re in is small, made even smaller by the racks of costumes the designer, Evelyn, has in here. She’s fitting several different couples today, so it looks like a rainbow exploded in here.
Evelyn holds up a purple sparkly leotard. She’s a sweet older lady who has worked with us for years. I can tell by her smile that she really loves this option, so I feel terrible that I hate it.
“That’s… not my favorite,” I say with a wince.
She nods quickly, seemingly unaffected by my rejection, and turns away to put it back on the rack. Logan comes up behind me and whispers, “You could at least try to hide your disgust.”
I face him and realize he’s close. Really close. And he smells good. Why does he have to smell good? “I can’t help it.”
He laughs, and I feel his breath on my neck.
It sends a chill down my body. What is wrong with me?
Ever since he admitted to wanting to kiss me last week, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
I’ve made myself avoid looking at him most of the time.
Last night, my thoughts wandered toward an inappropriate place, so I forced myself to watch the video where he made me break my ankle to remind myself why I hate him.
It was pathetic, but it worked. My anger came rushing back.
“Yeah, I know,” he whispers.
I swallow and force myself to look at the next costume. It’s emerald green.
“This color would look really good on you, Sav,” Max says.
“I agree,” Logan says. He’s taken a few steps back to give me room to breathe.
“It will bring out the green in your eyes, dear,” Evelyn adds.
I take the outfit from her. It is pretty. “This would be for freestyle?”
“Yeah,” Logan says. “The skirt on this one would look really good with the routine. Lots of spins.”
“Ok, I’ll try it on.”
Max grabs a green outfit for himself, which is just black pants and a black shirt with green rhinestone embellishments. There’s a curtain set up in the room that we change behind. Max and I have obviously seen each other naked, so we have no issues changing in front of each other.
“Can you zip me up?” I ask after pulling on the green dress.
“This looks so good on you, Sav,” he says as he pulls the zipper up.
“You think?”
“Oh yeah, I’d do you.”
I laugh and try to keep my voice down since I know everyone in the room can hear us. “Max, would it really matter what I was wearing for you to want to do me?”
“No, not really.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But this outfit makes you look extra fuckable.”
“Noted.”
He finishes getting dressed, and we walk out from behind the curtain.
Logan is standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. His easy smile from earlier has been replaced with a scowl. Maybe he doesn’t like the costume now that I’ve tried it on. I look down to see if something is amiss, but I don’t notice anything.
“What do you think?” I ask, turning in a circle so they can both see the entire outfit.
“Oh, it’s lovely, dear,” Evelyn says, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “You look sharp, too, Maxim.”
“Don’t make me blush, Evelyn,” he says back to her.
I look over to Logan. “Coach?”
“Yep. Looks good.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, but he looks away. Evelyn ushers me onto the small platform she brought and starts sticking pins in the outfit to make adjustments.
“Alright. So, I guess we’ll use this for our freestyle. What about for our rhythm?”
“Since you don’t like the purple, what about this?” Max holds up a halter-style dress that is bright pink at the top and fades to black at the bottom. There are rhinestones at the top that subtly fade as well once they get to the black part.
“Yeah, I like that one. Are you good with that pink shirt?”
“Hell yeah. I can pull it off,” he says, grabbing the shirt off the rack.
I laugh. “Never said you couldn’t.”
We change into the other costumes quickly and come back out to show them off.
“Thoughts?” Logan asks.
“I like it,” I say, doing another spin. Max’s hand wraps around my waist as I turn. I don’t think anything of it until I turn back to face Logan and see that his jaw is clenched and his eyes are focused directly on where Max is touching me.
Is he mad that Max has his hand on my waist? That would be absurd since Max touches me literally all the time. Or is he… jealous?
Oh my god. Is Logan Sokolov jealous that another man is touching me?
I have to stop myself from laughing out loud.
What a ridiculous thought.
“Max?” Logan says.
“I like it too,” he tells him, “But let’s be honest, everyone is going to be looking at Savannah, not me.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, please.”
“Alright. We’re good here then,” Logan announces right before he turns and leaves the room without another word.
Evelyn pulls me toward her and starts marking adjustments for the outfit.
“Did Coach seem weird just then?” I ask Max.
“Huh? Not that I noticed. But it’s hard for me to notice anything when you look so damn good.”
“Aww, what a sweetheart,” Evelyn coos.
“Don’t encourage him,” I tell her. “He’s just trying to get in my pants.”
“You’re not wearing any pants,” Max says back, making me laugh.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Later that day, after Max and I do our weight training and more skating, I’m packing up to go home.
Max had to leave quickly because he has an online interview tonight for some part-time work he’s looking to pick up.
It really sucks that we don’t get paid much to do what we love.
We have sponsorships and prize money, but beyond that, we’re on our own.
With our schedules, it’s hard to get normal jobs, so we have to find online work with flexible schedules.
I’m lucky. My parents paid for everything throughout college for me. This is my first year on my own. I’ve got enough saved that I don’t need a job just yet, but I know the day is coming, and I’m not looking forward to it. For now, I’m focusing everything on skating.
I’ve got my bag and I’m walking toward the exit when I see Logan step onto the ice. He seemed in better spirits when we saw him this afternoon. I’m not sure what happened during the costume fitting, but it was like a switch went off, and he was not his normal self.
I walk over to the glass and watch him. It’s easy to see how he was a gold medalist. He glides so perfectly. His spins are beautiful, and his twizzles are smooth. I become entranced watching him.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m putting my skates back on my battered feet and skating out to meet him. He doesn’t say anything, just grabs my hand, forcing me to follow him.
It’s surprising how well we skate together. Usually, it takes weeks or even months to get in sync with a new partner, but with him, it’s like we’ve been skating for years. Maybe it’s because of how long he’s been skating. He is a professional after all. But it just feels like we click.
I don’t know how long we skate, but when he starts heading for the exit, I no longer feel exhausted like I did before.
“Thanks for skating with me,” he says as he focuses on tying his shoes. I’ll admit, I was kind of hoping he’d ask me to skate with him again. I felt the tiniest bit of disappointment when I saw him already on the ice. Not that I would ever admit that.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to leave you out there skating by yourself again. People will start to think you’re lame or something.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that. Thanks for saving my reputation.”
“I’m here to help.”
He waits for me to get my shoes on and walks me out to my car.
It’s unexpected, and a part of me wants to tell him that I’m a big girl and don’t need him or anyone else to walk me to my car, but I bite my tongue.
It feels like he needs this, so I let him and mumble a quick “thank you” when he opens my door for me.
“Have a good night, Savannah.”
“Bye, Coach.”
He smiles before he shuts my door, and I definitely don’t watch him out of my mirrors as I leave.
I definitely don’t notice that he doesn’t move from the spot where my car was parked until I’m turning out of the parking lot.
And I definitely don’t think about the small smile on his face when he saw me skating toward him as I fall asleep later that night.