Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Luka
Sokolov watched the entire run from the boards without moving once, his arms folded, his expression giving away nothing at all.
Most people mistook that stillness for calm.
With him, silence was assessment. Every edge, every transition, every fraction of hesitation was being measured and filed away behind those unreadable eyes.
I came out of the final element clean, letting the momentum carry me before I slowed to a stop.
For a moment, he said nothing. “You are not forcing it.”
From Sokolov, that bordered on approval.
I lifted my chin. “No.”
His gaze flicked to Mila, then back to me, sharper now. “Good.” Then he turned and walked away.
“Careful,” she murmured. “Another glowing review like that and the man might actually develop human emotion.”
A reluctant laugh escaped me. “Do not start inventing fantasy stories before competition.”
“Oh, I’m documenting this moment forever.” She adjusted the guards onto her blades. “Years from now nobody will believe Viktor Sokolov voluntarily approved of anything.”
We headed toward the corridor together while the rink carried on around us in its usual chaos of music, shouted corrections, scraping blades, and athletes weaving past one another at dangerous speeds. Normally that atmosphere tightened every instinct I had before competition.
Not today.
“We are ready for tomorrow,” I said, glancing back at the ice.
The understatement amused me.
I had expected the last three days with Dean to destroy my concentration.
What I got? Everything felt easier.
Apparently my concentration improved dramatically when I stopped spending all my energy pretending I didn’t want Dean Foster.
By this time tomorrow, we will have completed the short program.
Dean still had another twenty hours before he competed.
Which meant he would spend most of tomorrow restless and impossible to settle.
I knew exactly what that looked like.
My mouth twitched.
Mila glanced sideways at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
We moved deeper into the corridor, athletes flowing around us in clusters. Someone nearby burst into loud laughter before vanishing around the corner. Mila waited until the noise thinned before speaking.
“Before competition, you usually strangle yourself with overthinking.”
I grimaced. “That sounds dramatic.”
“But accurate.” She glanced at me again, studying me more carefully this time. “This week you stopped fighting every instinct before it fully forms.”
“I assume this insight comes from your vast psychological expertise,” I said dryly.
Mila snorted. “Please. I perfected compartmentalizing years ago.”
“Ah. So now we are having a lecture.”
“No. You are getting advice.” She folded her arms. “There is a difference.”
“And your advice is?”
“That whatever is happening between you and Dean remains invisible.”
Her tone stayed calm, but the seriousness underneath it hit home.
“You think people are noticing.”
“I think that you look at him like you want to devour him.”
I nearly missed a step.
“Exactly.”
My face was on fire. “I do not.”
She gave me a long look. “And he looks at you the same way, which makes the situation worse.”
The image arrived immediately: Dean watching me across a crowded room, attention fixed so completely it became difficult to think about anything else.
Including breathing.
Mila continued before I could answer. “I am not telling you to end it. I would not waste my breath if I thought that was remotely possible now.”
“Very supportive.”
“I am serious, Luka.” Her gaze narrowed. “You need to stop looking at him as if you’re deciding whether to drag him into the nearest locked room.”
I looked away in a heartbeat. That was far too accurate.
“You believe subtlety is no longer one of my strengths,” I muttered.
“I believe you spent so long denying yourself this that now you finally have it, your entire face changes when he walks into a room.”
My throat tightened at the lack of mockery in her words. She wasn’t teasing me—she was describing something she had actually seen.
I thought about the last few days. Every time Dean entered a room. Every time I found myself looking for him without meaning to.
Every time I forgot to be careful.
Heat climbed my neck.
Bo?e.
She was right.
I had spent years learning how to hide.
Apparently Dean Foster had undone half of that work in less than a week.
We reached the exit doors together, cold February air rushing inside every time someone stepped through. Mila gave me one final look.
“Get some sleep tonight. And if you disappear into his room afterward, at least try to return looking less thoroughly kissed.”
I stared at her.
Mila’s composure finally cracked into open amusement. “Luka, please. I am not blind.”
Then she walked away, leaving me alone with entirely unhelpful advice.
My thoughts slipped from contemplative to carnal in a heartbeat: Dean’s warm, bare skin beneath my fingertips, his lips that had explored every inch of me, that first taste of his cock…
Heat barreled through me.
If she saw me now, she would be reaching for a fire extinguisher.
Dean
I came off the ice with my focus still sharp, my body humming with that clean exhaustion that meant everything had ended up exactly where it should.
Mark didn’t even try to hide his satisfaction.
“That is what happens when you stop fighting yourself every five seconds.”
I huffed and grabbed my bottle, mostly to give myself a reason not to answer too quickly.
Mark studied me for a second longer. “Whatever you’ve changed, leave it alone. Don’t start tinkering with it now because you’re nervous.”
A laugh threatened at the back of my throat.
If only he knew.
The thing that had changed involved Luka Davorin, a complete disregard for sensible timing, and whatever chemical reaction my brain underwent every time he showed up at my door.
It seemed emotional upheaval suited me.
Or maybe Luka did.
Mark patted me on the back. “You skate like this on Saturday, and gold starts looking a hell of a lot more realistic.” He grinned. “Because you know Canada will be nipping at our heels.”
“Don’t forget Velkarya.” Ethan stood at the boards, a towel draped over one shoulder. “I watched their pairs practice this morning. Davorin and Kadanek are terrifying right now.”
Mark snorted. “Their pairs team can have their moment. Men’s singles is another story.” He pointed lazily between Ethan and me. “You two can skate circles around Iliev if you keep your heads on straight.” Then he headed for the door.
Ethan watched him go. “Nice of him to include me in that conversation. Makes me feel valued.”
I slipped my guards onto my blades. “You are valued.”
“Mm.” His mouth twitched. “You’re still the federation’s golden child, though.
Everybody knows it.” He grabbed his bottle and took a long drink before continuing.
“Harper might podium. Nathan and Brooke will fight like hell because apparently this is their last Olympic cycle together.” Another grin. “But this? This is your Games.”
“That’s a dangerous amount of pressure to dump on somebody before lunch.”
“You seem to be handling pressure pretty well lately.” Ethan’s tone stayed casual, but there was far too much amusement sitting underneath it. “Honestly, whatever extracurricular activity you’ve picked up this week appears to be doing wonders for your skating.”
I froze for the briefest fraction of a second. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure.”
I wiped the back of my neck with my towel and refused to look directly at him. “I think the lack of sleep has finally damaged your brain.”
Ethan laughed under his breath as I pushed away from the boards.
“Relax,” he called after me. “I’m not about to leak it to NBC.”
I stopped and turned, my pulse quickening.
Ethan met my gaze without flinching. “I’ve seen him leaving your room. More than once.”
Fuck.
My stomach plummeted. For one awful second, all I could think about was Luka. The endless appetite people seemed to have for other athletes’ private lives.
Every risk we’d spent days trying to avoid flashed through my head at once.
Ethan watched the entire reaction unfold before rolling his eyes.
“Dean. Seriously. If I was going to make this a thing, I would’ve already done it by now.”
The tension left my shoulders in a rush. I hadn’t even realized they’d tightened.
“Right.”
“Also,” Ethan added, folding his arms, “you are both terrible at being subtle.”
I groaned.
That only made him grin wider.
I waited for awkwardness
It never arrived.
“And before you lapse into panic mode, I genuinely do not care who you’re sleeping with.” He shrugged. “Your timing sucks, though.”
I frowned. “Meaning?”
“Most athletes avoid distractions before competition.” His grin returned. “You disappear for three days and come back skating like you’ve unlocked a higher spiritual plane through orgasms.”
I couldn’t hold back my laugh.
Ethan pointed at me. “Yeah. That reaction isn’t helping your case.” He tossed the towel over his shoulder again before pushing off the boards. “For what it’s worth, you look happier too.”
The comment followed me out of the rink.
By the time I reached the corridor, Ethan’s comments had faded into the background.
What stayed with me was Luka.
The way he checked who was listening before he spoke. The subjects he avoided. The instinctive caution woven through things most people never thought about.
I slowed.
If this ever became public, I wasn’t the one taking the larger risk.
The thought followed me all the way back to the Village.
My phone buzzed just as I arrived at my room.
I glanced down while kicking the door shut behind me and saw my mom’s name flash across the screen.
Flights confirmed. We’ll be in Milan Monday morning. Hoping the jet lag disappears before Tuesday so we can actually function while watching you win gold.
A medal emoji followed. Then three grinning faces.