Chapter 12
Luna
I sit across from Nico at a little café tucked near the edge of campus.
It’s surrounded by arched floor-to-ceiling windows with wrought iron frames that are curved like cathedral frames.
Snow clings to the glass outside, blurring the view of the trees beyond and making everything feel like it’s happening inside a snow globe.
Coach wants us to bond, and I basically begged Nico to have breakfast with me.
“Look, I know we’re not best friends or whatever, but I really need this to work.”
He doesn’t interrupt. Just watches me quietly.
“I’ve dreamed of this since I was eight. Competing. Nationals. The Olympics. All of it. This school…this program…it’s everything to me.”
I finally meet his eyes.
“And I can’t do it alone. I’m trying, but if we don’t figure this out, Coach will separate us. And there’s no guarantee I’ll get another partner or another shot.”
There’s a long pause before Nico exhales and nods.
“I get it,” he says simply. “I didn’t choose pairs. My parents did. They think it’ll get me more visibility. But I’ll try. Okay? I’ll really try.”
Relief softens something in my chest.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
Something pulls my attention, and I glance over Nico’s shoulder.
Zayden is sitting alone across the café at a table near the ivy-covered window. One arm draped over the back of his chair, his eyes already on me.
And when our gazes lock, it’s like the room hushes. The memory rises before I can stop it. It’s been a week since that night.
A week of pretending our bodies didn’t move in sync with each other. Since he lifted me like it was instinct, my body trusting him like it never has anyone else before.
Stop staring at me. I glare at him.
He lifts an eyebrow. You’re the one looking at me.
“I fucking hate him,” I mutter under my breath, stabbing my fork into my chocolate chip protein pancake. I hate how he stares at me like he sees through the version of myself I’ve been pretending to be since I got to campus.
Nico glances up and lifts his eyebrows. “Strong words.”
I blink at him and chuckle. “So, why figure skating?” I ask Nico, ignoring the big elephant across from me.
“My parents were Olympic figure skaters,” he says without looking at me.
That gets my attention. “Seriously?”
He nods. “They fell in love on the ice. The whole fairytale ending.”
“Damn,” I whisper, eyebrows lifting. “No pressure or anything.”
A small smile tugs at his mouth. “Yeah. It’s a lot.” He hesitates again, then adds, “I’m sorry, by the way.”
I blink. “For what?”
“For avoiding you. For being a dick to you.”
It’s not like I haven’t noticed it, the silence, the distance, the way he disappears right after practice like I’m invisible.
“I’m not great at the whole social thing.” He takes a sip of his coffee.
The corner of my mouth curves into a smile. “It’s okay. I’m kind of bad at people, too. I just fake it better.”
Nico laughs under his breath. “Noted.”
And for the first time since all this started, something shifts between us. Not a friendship. Not yet. But something.
When I look up again, Zayden is gone, and that shouldn’t disappoint me the way it does. I turn back to my tray, my appetite suddenly gone with him.
I glance up at Nico. “Hey, do you know anything about an old rink at the far edge of campus?”
His body goes still, and he doesn’t answer right away. Then finally, he says, “You mean the Shadow Rink?”
“Shadow Rink?”
He shifts in his seat, looking uneasy. “Yeah, that’s what they call it now.”
“What was it called before?”
“I think the Ice Arena D. It was a private rink used mostly by star athletes and legacy students.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.” The lie is written all over his face. He knows more. “Just…stay away from it.”
“But, why? What is it you’re not telling me?”
He leans back in his chair, shaking his head like he’s already said too much. “Just leave it alone.”
“It sounds like you’re warning me.”
“Maybe I am.”
There’s something tight in his voice now, like fear, but before I can push further, he stands and grabs his tray, his croissant untouched. “Thanks for breakfast. I meant it. I’ll try.”
And with that, he walks off. My skin crawls with questions.
I leave right after him, heading over the bridge toward the academic building. Nico’s voice is still replaying in my head.
My head’s spiraling with so many questions as I make my way toward my psychology class.
“You okay?” The question comes from behind me. I glance over my shoulder.
Serene.
She’s holding her book to her chest, offering a gentle smile. Her red curls frame her face perfectly. Serene sits next to me in psychology class.
I exhale. “Just tired.”
“Uh huh. What did Nico or Zayden do now?”
Geez, am I that easy to read?
“They didn’t do anything,” I say as we walk together.
Well, that’s not the whole truth.
“Have you heard of the Shadow Rink?” I whisper.
Serene pauses, tilting her head up. “That place was closed years ago. No one talks about it.”
I didn’t even know it existed until last week.
“Do you know why?”
She shakes her head as we resume our walk, changing the subject to something else, but all I can think about is the Shadow Rink. The messages Zayden and I received that night. His face when he saw it, like he knew something.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it; it’s a reminder of my virtual therapy with my mom.
I stop walking, just for a second. A cold presses in through my blazer like it wants to crawl under my skin and stay there.
I should be relieved. Things with my mom have been…
fine. The anger that used to burn a hole in my chest is gone.
The resentment faded away like an old bruise, and all that’s left is emptiness, no warmth, no affection, just nothing.
I don’t know how to fix our relationship.
I know she’s been trying, but I don’t think any amount of therapy can fix this.
I keep moving and slide into a seat near the back of the lecture hall just as the professor starts rambling about cognitive frameworks.
When the lecture ends, I have no freaking idea what he talked about. I’m not even sure I was there. My notes are a mess. Half-sentences I don’t remember writing. Something about burnout and peak performance. The irony isn’t lost on me.
Back at the dorms, the girls are already there. Annika is sitting with a face mask, watching another K-drama. Sophie is holding a tablet, probably sketching something for athletic benefits.
The smell of a vanilla candle on the coffee table hits me instantly, and it reminds me of Rylee. She’s obsessed with that scent. The idea of calling her crosses my mind, but I can’t keep calling her every time I spiral.
Annika glances at me as I walk in. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I lie, tossing my bag on the floor. “Just tired.”
Sophie looks up briefly, catching something in my expression. Her eyes linger, like she wants to ask more, but she doesn’t. Just gives me a quiet nod and goes back to sketching.
I head to my room before she decides to say anything.
Therapy starts a few minutes later. I sit at my desk, headphones in, webcam on. Dr. Andrea greets us. My mom smiles from the other side of the screen, says she misses me, says she’s proud. I nod. Say I’m fine. We both pretend that’s enough.
The call ends, and I stare at the screen until it fades to black. My reflection looks exhausted.
After my shower, I sit with Annika on the couch in the living room.
Sophie went out earlier. I curl up next to her with a mug of tea I barely drink as we watch a K-drama series.
She talks at the screen, laughs at a line I missed.
I nod when I’m supposed to, offer a small smile when she looks over at me.
We watch a few episodes—well, Annika does. I’m there, but not really. My thoughts keep drifting. Back to the Shadow Rink.
“All right, I’m going to bed.” She yawns.
“Me too.”
We turn off the TV and head to our rooms.
“Night,” I say before stepping into mine. I close the door behind me and exhale into the silence.
I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, but sleep doesn’t come. My body is tired from my training with Nico, but my mind won’t let go. We’re doing better, and Coach didn’t look at us like she wants to murder us. The woman is scary.
It’s almost midnight when I finally give in. I pull on a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and my favorite sneakers.
I grab my bag from beside the door and tuck my skates inside. I’m outside before I can change my mind.
The cold hits my face like a slap as I cut across campus, the air sharp with frost, the snow crunching beneath each step. Valcérre is asleep, windows dark, lights glowing faintly along the stone walkways like ghosts keeping watch.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting from the Shadow Rink.
Answers?
A sign?
I know I shouldn’t go back there.
It’s reckless. It’s stupid. It’s exactly the kind of thing people whisper about after something goes wrong.
But I don’t care. The truth is that night I skated with him was the first time I felt free since I got here. Even though I would never admit this out loud, I’m hoping he’s there again.