14. Savannah
FOURTEEN
SAVANNAH
Two weeks have gone by in the blink of an eye, and my first comp of the season jitters are in full effect.
The three of us ride to the airport together, Max and Logan keeping the conversation going while I stew in my own nervousness.
I’ve skated in dozens of competitions, by myself and with partners, and the first one with a new program is always the scariest. I don’t have any bad experiences or horror stories to share, so I’m not sure why I get so nervous.
At this point, I’d probably consider my nervousness part of my routine. If I weren’t nervous, I’d be worried.
“This is gonna be good,” Max says as his hand comes down on my leg. He’s bouncing off the walls with excitement. I’m not sure how he does it. I’ve never once seen Max get nervous. It’s another reason we work so well together. He balances me out.
“Yeah,” I agree with him, hoping it’s true.
We’ve practiced our programs so many times, I’m sure I could do them in my sleep by now.
This competition is not make-or-break for the season, but I want to start off strong.
I want our peers to see that we mean business.
We’re not messing around anymore. We were never messing around, but we were also never at the top of our groups.
We’re looking to change that this year.
I look over at Logan, who’s sitting across the aisle from us on the plane. He looks completely relaxed, and why wouldn’t he? He’s not competing.
Things have been strange between us since dinner at his house. He’s been strictly business ever since. There have been no small touches. No secret smiles. He hasn’t even been skating after our practices. I never thought I’d be upset about that, but here we are.
Upset might not be the right word. Confused, maybe?
I thought we shared something that night at his house, but apparently I was wrong.
I know it’s better this way anyway. I need to focus.
Getting to the Olympics is my number one priority.
Boys and how they feel about me should be the very last thing on my list. But every time I try to push Logan from my mind, he comes bouncing right back in.
He’s just as annoying in my head as he is in real life.
I watch a movie and listen to some of my audiobook on the flight, and I’m relatively calm on the way to the rink, but my nerves kick into high gear again once we get there.
I’ve been to this rink before and skated in this competition before.
Hell, I’ve probably been judged by these same judges before.
But this season is different. I want to be a top contender.
I want people to watch us skate and think, “Yeah, they’re going to the Olympics. They’re the best the USA has to offer.”
This is the year.
It has to be.
“You two go warm up. I’ll meet you at the ice in a few minutes.
” Logan takes our suitcases, leaving us with our skates, and walks over to a group of people who look like they probably work for U.S.
Figure Skating. I watch him walk off. His navy blue slacks fit him perfectly, and his white button-down stretches across his shoulders and arms. He’s more dressed up than I’ve ever seen him, and he looks really, really good.
Ice skaters tend to have nice, muscular asses, and Logan?
Yeah, he’s been very blessed in that department.
I wonder if he’s even a little nervous. This is his first competition as a coach. Didn’t he say if we fail, he fails, too?
Max grabs my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Come on. Let’s warm up.”
We find an unoccupied spot and start stretching.
Max looks around, seeing who’s already here.
We’ve been skating with a lot of these couples for years and know they’re good.
I just hope we’re a little bit better this time.
Logan seems to think we will be. I’m just not sure how much I can trust his opinion yet.
“I can’t wait to see everyone’s program,” Max says as he folds his torso over his leg to stretch his hamstring.
I almost scoff, but I manage to keep it inside.
This is how we’re different. He wants to see everyone’s program because he’s curious and wants to cheer on his peers.
I don’t want to see anyone’s program because the entire time I watched, I’d be comparing it to ours and wondering what we could’ve done better.
I’m not able to watch other couples’ performances with an unbiased mind.
Sometimes I wish I could be more like Max. He’s always so unbothered by everything. I don’t know how he does it.
“I’m sure everyone will do great,” I mumble. Max smirks because he knows I don’t care how everyone else does.
Once we’re nearing the end of our warm-up, I see Logan making his way back over to us, talking to a man in a suit. Both men are smiling, but when Logan’s eyes find mine, I swear his smile gets a little bit bigger.
He claps the guy on the shoulder before he excuses himself and makes his way over to us.
“You both warmed up?” he asks.
“As much as we’re gonna get,” Max says, standing up and reaching a hand down to me.
“Who was that?” I ask, nodding to the man in the suit who is now walking away from us. I’ve ignored Logan’s initial question, but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it.
“A judge I’ve spoken with a few times before.”
“What did he want?” My tone is accusatory. I don’t mean for it to be, but I’m on edge.
“Geez, Sav,” Max mumbles.
“He was just asking how I was. I don’t know if you remember, but I did retire from the sport pretty abruptly.” Oh. Yeah.
“Right.” I nod. I’m not sure what I’m even mad about or why I snapped at him. Of course, these people are going to know him and be interested in what he’s doing now. If I remember correctly, he won this competition last year.
Logan reaches out and puts his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “Hey, you’re going to do great.”
I exhale, and my shoulders drop a little tension.
“You’ve got to relax, Savannah. I know we have a lot riding on this season, but we have time. And this competition is not the end of the world. You’ve got to make sure you enjoy this, too. None of this will be worth it if you’re too stressed to enjoy the process.”
“I know,” I say, looking directly into his eyes. “I know.”
He searches my face before turning to Max. “Go do a few laps on the ice. Let me chat with Savannah for a few minutes.”
I swallow, wondering what he could possibly have to talk about, before I nod quickly to Max, who is looking to me for confirmation that it’s ok to leave. Bless him.
Logan grabs my hand—the first time since our dinner at his house—and pulls me into an empty room and sits me down in a chair. He circles around behind me and starts massaging my shoulders. I moan and instantly regret it.
He leans down toward my ear and in a low, deep voice says, “I’m not letting you on that ice until you relax, Savannah.”
The sound of his voice in my ear sends a shiver down my spine but also releases some of the tension in my back.
“I’m usually not this tight.” I roll my neck from side to side as he squeezes my shoulder muscles. I’m usually not a fan of massages. It’s too much touching. But this? I like this. A lot.
I lean forward slightly, and he moves his hands down my back, pressing and squeezing as he goes.
“Take a deep breath for me.”
There is a tiny part of me that wants to go against what he’s saying. As if holding my breath would be more beneficial. Sometimes it’s silly that my mind constantly wants me to push back.
But I do as he says, inhaling and exhaling all while his hands continue to press into my back.
“Good girl,” he whispers into my ear.
Dear lord. Is he trying to turn me on or help me relax?
Honestly, he’s doing both, and I have no idea how to feel about it.
My neck heats, and I know if I looked in a mirror, my cheeks would be flushed.
Logan’s hands on me and his deep voice in my ear?
It’s too damn much. I need to tell him to stop. I should tell him to stop.
But I don’t actually want him to.
“You are one of the best skaters out there,” he tells me. “You’ve worked your ass off. So, you are going to go out there and skate this just like you have a thousand times at home. Pretend it’s just me out there watching. No one else.
“Today is just a warm-up. Yes, the other pairs will likely be watching you, but their opinion doesn’t matter. And honestly, the routine we have is so good, they’re probably going to be a little scared watching you skate.”
I chuckle. He’s really going for it, and I hate to admit that it’s actually working. Instead of running off to hide, I want to get out there and show everyone that we mean business this year.
“I don’t think anyone is going to be scared of me and Max.”
Logan’s hands stop rubbing, and he comes in front of me and squats down.
He hooks his finger under my chin and makes me look at him.
Then, with complete seriousness, he says, “They are scared of you, baby. Trust me. They were scared of you before, and they’re sure as hell going to be scared of you now.
So get out there and show them that you came to win. ”
I swallow, my throat suddenly incredibly dry. Not only is his mouth inches from mine, but he just called me baby. Baby? And now he’s expecting me to just move past it like it’s nothing?
His eyes fall to my lips. We’ve been here before. I know this time he wants to kiss me. I want it too. Dammit.
But it would be terrible for me to kiss him right now. I have to focus on skating.
I lick my lips, and his eyes follow my movement. He’s not making this easy.
“Well,” I say, barely above a whisper. “If this coaching thing doesn’t work out for you, you’d be a damn good motivational speaker.”
He smiles and drops his hand from my face. I miss his touch instantly. “Good to know I have options.”
We both stand.
“You good now?” he asks.
I take a few steps as if I’m going to pass him but stop once our shoulders are touching. “Yes, sir. Good and wet.”
I don’t know where the confidence to say that came from, but I know he knew what he was doing to me. Neither of us is an idiot. His breath hitches, but I don’t wait for him to say anything else. Nope. I’m going to leave him with that. Let him be the one stewing for once.
Yes, he helped me overcome my nerves, but now I’m horny, and what am I supposed to do about that?
I find my skates in the corner where I left them and take them to the ice.
I lace up quickly and meet Max on the ice.
As I’m doing a warm-up lap, my eyes find Logan because, of course, they do.
They always seem to find him, no matter where we are.
He smirks at me when I skate past him, and I spin and stick out my tongue.
“What was that about? Did he knock some sense into you?” Max asks as we get ready to practice our routine.
I huff a laugh. “You could say that.”
“You have a weird look on your face.”
“Uh, thanks?” I say, settling down in front of him on the ice for my starting position.
“It’s not a bad thing. You look happy or something?”
“Or something? Damn, you really know how to make a girl feel good.”
He laughs. “I have no problem making you feel good, Sav, and you know it.”
I turn to face forward so he doesn’t see my smile drop.
Max and I have a routine. We always sleep together the night before a competition.
It’s what works for us, so I know he’s expecting it tonight.
Why wouldn’t he? But he has no idea that I’m having inappropriate thoughts about our coach.
He has no idea that I’d rather be in Logan’s bed tonight than his.
But this is tradition. If I don’t do it, it might ruin everything. Right?
And if there’s one thing athletes unreasonably lean on, it’s superstitions.