Chapter 6
Eventually, the time came when Dmitrii was at the dance studio portion of the rink to go over his program with the two coaches that had never seen it before.
Theoretically, he knew his new choreography.
He had even skated the program a few times before the accident.
It wasn’t as polished as he wished. No, who was he kidding?
It was still a mess and needed a lot of work.
The fact that he couldn’t skate was the biggest issue.
No matter how many times he went over the movements in shoes, it wasn’t the same.
The only break in his explaining the program to the coaches was when another skater had shown up.
Dmitrii had noticed him before anyone else because he’d caught the reflection in the mirrors.
He didn’t know the other skater. After his new coaches made introductions, Dmitrii smiled at the man introduced as Tyler Garrett and held out his hand in greeting.
The other skater was a little taller than him, with dark brown hair that hung down in front of absolutely gorgeous blue eyes.
Mentally, he scolded himself. He was not here to flirt with boys.
That was dangerous enough back when he had been favored by the Russian skating federation.
He was, pardon the pun, on thin ice. Flirting with boys was the last thing he needed to be doing, even if they had shoulders that screamed to be hung onto.
It was only a momentary meeting, but it had been enough to get his mind off of things for a moment.
All too soon, the distraction of Tyler walking in was over, and the coaches led Dmitrii to the rink.
As he slipped his feet into his skates, Dr. Aubrey arrived and started talking to Coach Truskel.
He tightened his laces as he tried to think of anything but what he was about to do, and distracting himself with thoughts of the cute boy seemed like a good enough distraction.
He had said his name was Tyler. It was a cute name.
When he got onto the ice, both of the other coaches stepped onto the ice as well. Dmitrii glanced over at the stands where his doctor was sitting. She had a notebook out, but somehow her presence was more of a reassurance than a stressor.
He took his starting position on the ice as the music started.
He tried to skate his program, but almost as soon as he moved into the opening step sequence, he stopped.
His breathing was too fast. The edges of his vision were turning black and hazy as if he were about to faint.
Dmitrii held up a hand, trying to show his coaches that he was okay.
He managed to say, “I just need a minute.” He needed a lot more than a minute, but maybe a minute would be enough to fake being okay.
One sound, Prokofiev [RS1] over the arena speakers.
Once touch, the feel of his practice gloves.
One taste and he licked his cherry lip balm covered lips.
One scent, the ice, a constant since childhood.
He opened his eyes, looking across to the empty stands, a sight he was so used to.
As the coaches encouraged him, he went back to his starting position to wait for the music to loop back.
The program was rough; he knew it was so very rough.
He didn’t try a single jump, and the spins …
the spins were lackluster at best. Before the accident, he had been reliably doing level threes and fours with positive marks for his grade of execution, but now, his spins were the opposite.
Somehow, he made it through the program.
There had been spots where he had thought he wouldn’t be able to go on, but he had managed.
He closed his eyes when it was over, taking a deep breath as he tried not to think about how bad his skating had been.
Coach Truskel kept telling him how much better it was than yesterday.
Dmitrii didn’t think it was better. He would talk it over in detail tomorrow morning with Dr. Aubrey.
Today, she just told him to get some rest and that she would see him in the morning.
He had yet another therapy session scheduled before he would have to be back at the rink addressing his fear once again.
After practice, Coach Williamson offered to drive him back to the hotel, so he didn’t have to call for a ride.
After changing, he walked outside with his coach.
The bright sunlight was near blinding after having been inside.
What he didn’t expect to see was the other skater from earlier.
Tyler was standing by an older car while talking on his cell phone.
Hopefully, no one noticed how his focus lasered in on Tyler.
The other skater couldn’t have been out here too long, but the sun was hot enough that there was already some sweat on his forehead and a dampness to his dark hair as Tyler lifted a hand to brush the strands back from where they had been getting into his eyes.
Dmitrii really was trying not to look, but Tyler was very nice to look at.