Chapter 2
2
Vesper
There’s something so therapeutic about the sound of skates on the ice. It’s more than the gentle swish and the dull scrape of my blades gliding and dragging. My favourite noise is the creaking, like an aged leather boot on bare wooden floorboards. When I first started skating and heard that noise, I remember being so terrified that the ice was cracking and I was going to fall through.
Stupid now, I know. But when I was three and skating for the first time on baby blades and a penguin skate aid, the fear was real.
Now, I live for those sounds.
It’s absolutely worth getting up at four in the morning every single day to be the first one on the ice when the university rink opens at five. By the time most students are waking up—or in some cases, just rolling home from the night before—I’ve already put in a full day’s work on and off the ice, and that’s before I even go to class.
No one is more hardworking and driven than me.
Completing my thirty laps warm up, I stretch out my aching calves and prepare to run through my basic warm up routine. I always put in a good two-hour session before my coach meets me at seven, and today is no exception. Classes might not officially start for a few more weeks yet, but I cut my holiday short to come back to campus to begin my training for this season.
I’m serious about making it to the world championships this year. There’s no way I’m letting my old ankle injury hold me back. I already had to give up my dreams once before, because of circumstances outside of my control. I’m not about to let it happen again.
I’m twenty-one, almost twenty-two. It’s not quite ancient, even for figure skaters, but I’m firmly in the upper age bracket. That’s what I get for taking a year off to heal. If I’m going to make a name for myself, this has to be the year. It’s my last chance. I can’t let anything stand in my way.
My phone’s already linked to the PA system, so I press play and quickly skate to the centre of the rink to wait for my music to come in. “Love Goes On and On” by Lindsey Stirling begins to play, and muscle memory kicks in. I switch off, stop thinking, and let the music wash over me. Moving, skating, dancing becomes intrinsic.
I let go.
By the time the doors to the rink open, announcing the arrival of my coach, I’m sweating and breathing hard. My muscles ache in the most amazing way, and I feel a real sense of achievement for nailing my final routine. I couldn’t land that final jump before we broke up for summer, and now I can.
I feel like anything is possible.
This is my year.
“Nice work, Vesper!” Coach calls across the ice.
I grin and skate over to him. “Did you see that?” It’s impossible to miss the bubbly excitement in my voice.
“I did. You were amazing,” Coach replies with pride in his voice. “Now you just need to land it another thousand times until it’s easier than breathing.”
I laugh because he doesn’t need to tell me that. I’ll make sure I can land it five thousand times before I compete. I mute my playlist and notice the time. “You’re early, Coach. Eager to get a jump start on the competition, too?”
He hesitates. “Actually, I came over early because I wanted to introduce you to someone.”
“Oh?” I quirk a brow as I look around the stands, but it’s just us.
“She’s running late,” he says apologetically, managing somehow to keep the annoyance out of his tone. Coach abhors lateness—no excuses, ever—and so whoever is joining us, she must be pretty important if he’s excusing her.
Excitement rises as I ask eagerly, “Is it my new choreographer?”
“No. It’s?—”
Whatever he was about to say, it’s cut off by the doors to the rink slamming with a bang. We both turn to see the new arrival, and my excitement morphs into confusion as a young girl enters the space.
She’s tall—a lot taller than me—with long blond hair that, even tied back, trails down to her butt. She has to be around my age, so there’s no way that she’s the world renowned choreographer that we talked about getting last year.
“Coach?” I ask, at the same time the new arrival shrieks “Dell!”
I rarely call Coach by his first name, and so the over-familiarity from this girl, especially as she flings her arms around him in a bear hug, makes me question what the hell is happening.
“Nicolette, I’ve told you before, it’s Coach when we’re on the ice.”
“But we’re not on the ice,” she points out with a frown and a pout.
I half expect Coach to give her hell for her attitude, but he chuckles and shakes his head. “Touché, Trouble. But you’re late.”
Trouble? Nicknames? What the hell is going on?
“By, like, a minute.”
“By seven, actually. And now you need to skate laps.”
“What? That’s not fair!” she wails.
“Twenty laps. Now, Nicolette. If you argue, I’ll just add more on.”
She whines, but doesn’t argue, and stomps off with her skate bag to lace up. I turn to Coach, utter shock written on my face.
“Dell? Hugs? Arriving late and only getting twenty laps? You got a new favourite or something?” I tease, but inside my heart is pounding.
I need Dell. If I’m going to make it—and not making it is not an option—then I need him, and his full focus. Dell’s an ex-figure skater and the best coach I’ve ever had. He’s only in his late twenties, and he made it all the way to the Euro Championships final as a teenager before an injury ruined his chance of continuing. He understands what it’s like to do this with an injury and has always looked out for me with more than just the care of a coach. He treats me like a little sister, and it’s done wonders for my skating. I can’t lose him.
“Vesper, breathe. You’re freaking out,” he says calmly.
“I can’t…I need…You know this is my last shot.”
“Vesp, this isn’t your last shot. You have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”
Easy for him to say. He has a waitlist of skaters wanting to be coached by him. If he doesn’t make a name for himself with me, there’s always the next girl.
I’m replaceable.
He’s not.
“Who is she?” I ask, to change the topic and get the focus off me and my mini meltdown.
Dell gives me a look that says he knows exactly what I’m up to but doesn’t call me out. “That’s Nicolette.”
We both look to the ice where Nicolette is just completing a near-perfect triple toe.
Shit. She can’t be competing against me. There’s no way I’ll rank as well if I’m up against her. If she’s already this good, what will she be like after months of Dell’s expert tuition?
“She’s good,” I manage to concede.
“She is,” he agrees. “But you’re better.”
“For now.” It’s impossible to keep the bitter taste of fear out of my words.
“Nicolette! I said twenty laps!” Coach hollers across the ice at her.
She scowls at us and folds her arms over her chest.
“I’ve done them,” she insists.
Bullshit. Even speed skaters couldn’t do twenty laps that quickly. But Coach doesn’t challenge her on it.
“Who is she?” I ask again, because I know there’s something he’s not telling me. There’s no way I could get away with pulling that shit with him. So who is she, and why is she so special that she can?
“Nicolette is my cousin,” he admits. “And my new student. I’m going to be training both of you this year. Together.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. “No. No way.”
“Vesper, I’ll split my time and attention between you equally, but?—”
“No. I train alone.”
“Vesper, be reasonable. With hockey season starting soon, you know how difficult it is to book ice time. I won’t be able to get enough sessions for both of you.”
“Then train her elsewhere. Does she even go to this uni?”
“She will in September.”
“Then she can use the arena rink until then.” While I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do to get out of having to skate and train alongside her.
Coach sighs, and I immediately feel guilty for disappointing him.
“Let’s just give it a trial run, okay? I think you could really learn from each other.”
This time, it’s my turn to sigh, because, ultimately, what choice do I have? I can’t train without a coach, and if he takes Nicolette to the arena rink in town, I’ll be left on my own.
“Fine.”
I step onto the ice and skate over to the new girl. She gives me a quick, relieved smile and introduces herself.
“Hi, I’m Nicolette. I’m so excited to be training with you. I can’t actually believe I’m on the exact same ice as Vesper Miers. At the same time as you, no less! I was, like, your biggest fan when I was growing up.”
I give her a smile, which I hope is warmer than I’m feeling. “Thanks.”
Her gaze flicks to Coach, who’s distracted by his phone, and when it returns to me, her smile has turned sly.
“I’m so excited to skate with you. And overtake you.”
Fucking hell. What I have agreed to? I already knew I’d have my work cut out for me this year, but now it feels like I’m going to have to watch my back, too. In more ways than one. I can’t let anything or anyone get in my way.
“Right, Vesper, warm up routine again. Nicolette, watch and learn. Join in when you’ve got the hang of it. I want to see what you can both do, side by side.”
“Are you ready for me to skate circles around you?” Nicolette asks.
“Just stay out of my way and try to keep up,” I snap back, already focusing on the music so that I don’t miss my cue.
“That’s cute,” she replies, in an overly perky way that doesn’t match the daggers she’s glaring at me. “Don’t you know you slow down in your old age? It’s you who’ll be trying to keep up with me.”
“You’re only three years younger than me.”
“Actually, you’re an October kid, right? At least that’s what your bio says. I’m late August, so nearly four years younger than you. Four years of youth and spry joints that work the way they should. So good luck keeping up, old timer… Oh, by the way, Dell mentioned you had an injury you were still getting over. Better keep an eye on that. I’d hate for you to have to drop out because something bad happened.”