CHAPTER 55 #2
“And I still get flashbacks.”
Everyone skated to that song that year, no, legit, everyone. At least fifteen singles skaters and five pairs at our program did alone.
I rub a hand over my cheeks, exhaustion weighing on me. Tilting my head to face Troy, my cheek squishes against the navy furniture. “Wait, how do you even remember what song I skated to?”
In equal fatigue, Troy turns to face me, our profiles mirroring the other’s. He gives me a lazy half-smile that’s all flirt. “Your ass looked incredible in that gold dress.”
A burst of energy coils at my lower belly.
If 15 year-old me knew that 17 year-old Troy was thinking of my ass before I free skated to Coldplay, I’d have dedicated an entire page of my diary to just that. 15 year-old me would also slap me silly right now, knowing my stomach just flickered with heat.
Troy’s eyes have hit another standstill with mine, where the seconds drift slower, waiting for one of us to make a move. But both of us just sit here, throats dry, unsure.
“Okay, ‘Viva la Vida’ is out,” he concludes. “Lucky for you, they have a ton of other hits.” I roll my eyes. “‘A Sky Full of Stars’, ‘Clocks’, ‘Paradise’.” What about ‘Adventure of a Lifetime’?”
“I prefer to leave Coldplay out of figure skating, Troy.”
“Didn’t know you had such an agenda against the band.”
“I love the band! Naomi and I have gone to like, three of their concerts together. Music for your routine means having to listen to the same song a million times in a row. It’s like hearing your favorite song on a loop on the radio until it kills it for you.”
He nods with utter disgust. “You’re a Coldplay traitor, Petrov.”
“Shut up,” I say with a chuckle. “You know, I’m usually not picky for the music, but this time I was hoping to skate to ‘Once Upon a December’ as a tribute to my grandma.
She loved the movie and even got me this music box for Christmas one year.
” The fond memory has me spilling truths that most likely mean nothing to anyone other than myself, but the warmth brings the words to light, and I can’t stop.
“When you opened it, there was this small figurine in skates completing a Biellmann. I know it might sound silly, but that cartoon mirrored her own story a little, and I think that gave her hope.”
My heart flickers when Troy’s gaze softens, holding mine for a long moment. “Alright, Petrov. We’ll go with your song.”
“Only if you’re cool with it, though. If you don’t like it, we can find something else.” I rephrase, “Something other than Coldplay.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m cool with it.” He extends his arm my way, gesturing, “But if you were to reconsider,” He pulls out his phone from his jean pocket, “I’m just going to leave this here…”
The instrumental intro you’d recognize anywhere of a bunch of violins plays, “Viva la Vida” filling the room, the sudden noise lifting me off the sofa.
“You did not just do that!” I crawl over to his end of the couch, but he relocates his phone to behind his seat.
“‘I used to rule the world!!’” he belts out the intro.
I slip my hand around his shoulders and to the couch to retrieve the device that’s blasting the obnoxious song, while he purposely doesn’t budge.
My fingers, instead, feel the flexing of each toned muscle along his back before he tilts his chin down at me.
“Ana.”
“What?” I snap, my hands still tangled around his waist.
I feel his breath run over the shell of my ear, shivering when his mouth reaches my skin. “You’re sitting on my lap,” he whispers. “I’d ask you to move, but it doesn’t look like you want to, does it?”
I quickly push off him, my cheeks burning. “Keep on dreaming, Larsson.”
He scoffs. “I’m hungry. We should get a pizza.”
“We just ate.”
“That was two hours ago.”
“It’s 3 in the morning.”
“And your point is?”
“That it’s 3 in the morning. No one’s even open right now.”
“Yeah, Gina’s is. They close at 5.”
“You want us to eat pizza from a place that closes at 5 in the morning? You’re asking to get poisoned.”
“They’re open late since college students always pack the place. I still can’t believe you haven’t tried their pizza. So pepperoni or veggie?”
“I have to be up in a few hours to run some errands, and then I have more reading to do.”
He groans. “Fine.”
My appetite hasn’t returned, though I find myself dwelling on the invite I rejected from the girls I met in my summer elective, pushing me to reconsider. “Half pepperoni, half veggie,” I surrender. “With a side of jalapenos.”
Troy joyously squeezes my lower thigh. “Good girl.”
My stomach tingles with a wave of heat. I jump to cross my arms when I feel my nipples tighten, realizing I’m still very much braless. That was not sexual. Don’t make it sexual.
“Now where were we?”
What.
Troy taps an index finger over his phone as he rests it against the coffee table beside the couch.
“Viva la Vida” blasts into the room again, and I can’t help but smile a little this time when he resumes singing the song ridiculously while we wait for our 3 am pizza to arrive.