Chapter 4
RODRIGUEZ
Almardon is the only person here, already on the rowing machine doing whatever masochistic workout routine he’s obsessing over this month. The slide and click of the machine echoes in the space. He treats training like it’s a religion.
“You’re here early,” he calls over the rhythmic sound of the rower, not even breathing hard. “What’d you do?”
“Why do you think I did something?”
“Because you’re here at 6 and practice doesn’t start until 9. You never show up early, voluntarily anyway.”
I ignore him and head to the weight rack, loading up the bar. The plates clang against each other as I slide them on. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Uh huh.” Almardon doesn’t sound convinced. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain figure skater, would it? How’d the whole vulnerable honesty thing work out?”
I’ve been thinking about that bench. The coffee sitting between us. The way she didn’t say anything when I walked away.
I drop the weight. It clangs way louder than I meant it to. “I don’t know yet.”
“You don’t know?”
“I left before she decided.”
“Maybe it’s not you at all. Like, maybe it’s something that has nothing to do with you.” Almardon’s voice is reasonable, which somehow makes it worse. “People don’t usually go Ice Queen mode for no reason.”
He’s probably right. I’ve been so focused on my knee, on getting back to practice, that I haven’t stopped to think about it. But yesterday was different. That wasn’t just “not interested.” She was hostile. Like I’d personally offended her just by existing.
“Whatever. When are you going to stop focusing about my Ice Queen and tell me about the mystery girl you’re dating.”
“When the time is right. Which you wouldn’t know anything about since Juliette won’t give you the time of day.”
I ignore him and focus on my setup, lying back on the bench. The padding is cool against my shoulders through my shirt.
“You need to let it go,” Almardon continues, and he doesn’t sound mean about it. Just honest. “She’s not interested.”
The problem is I can’t let it go. I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried. When I saw her that one time in September at the rink that was it. I was done. Just completely gone.
“I’m just being friendly,” I tell Almardon, starting my reps. The weight moves up and down in a steady rhythm, my muscles burning with the movement.
“Well, you’re being a little more than friendly. Even Dex noticed.”
“It’s usually not this difficult.”
“Tell that to everyone else who’s been watching you crash and burn for four months now.”
I focus on the burn in my chest, the way my arms start to burn as I lift the bar over and over. It’s good. Focuses me on something other than the fact that Juliette barely makes eye contact with me when she sees me in the hallways. Won’t even acknowledge I exist most of the time.
I’ve never been this spectacularly bad at talking to women. I’m pretty decent at reading people, at making them laugh, at being charming enough that they at least give me a shot. But she’s got walls up that I can’t seem to get past no matter what I try. Every attempt gets me frozen out even harder.
“Maybe that’s the whole point,” Almardon offers. “Maybe she actually wants you to stop trying.”
“Then why does she keep looking at me?”
“What?”
“When she thinks I’m not paying attention. I’ve caught her twice now.” I finish my set and sit up, sweat dripping down my temples. “She looks. Then when I notice, she pretends she wasn’t.”
Almardon brings the rowing machine to a slow stop. “Maybe you’re imagining it.”
I laugh slightly. “I’m not imagining it. I know what it looks like when I get checked out.”
“Or maybe she’s trying to figure out why you won’t leave her alone. Like she’s worried she has to watch you in case you just snap like you’re a killer in a true crime documentary.”
I throw my towel at him. It hits him in the face with a damp smack. “You’re supposed to be supportive here.”
“I am being supportive. I’m supporting you not making an ass of yourself.” He tosses the towel back. “More of an ass than you already are.”
“Yeah, well, too late for that, probably.”
He laughs but he’s right, and I know he’s right. I should back off. Give her space. Stop showing up everywhere I think she might be like some kind of stalker. It’s creepy, and I’m better than this.
I need to let it go.
The door to the gym opens and Roman walks in, already in a mood.
“Yo, Cap,” I call out. “What’s got you looking like that?”
“Barrett wants extra film review this afternoon,” Roman says, dropping his bag on the floor. He sounds exhausted already.
Almardon and I exchange a look. “We won that game,” I point out.
“By one goal. In overtime. After we blew a two-goal lead in the third.”
“Still counts as a win.”
“Tell that to Barrett.” Roman points between me and Almardon. “Film at three. Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late.”
“You were late last Tuesday.”
“That was different. I had a thing.”
Roman gives me this look that says he knows exactly what “thing” means and doesn’t believe it for a second. “Three o’clock. Don’t make me come find you.”
He heads for the weights and I finish my workout, then grab my clothes and head to the showers. The hot water beats against my shoulders, washing away the sweat and some of the tension. By the time I’m dressed and leaving, the PT room is open and Jake is working with someone.
I hear him laugh and then a quieter response. Her.
She’s sitting on a treatment table with her left ankle propped up, talking to Jake. Her hair is in that same sleek bun she always wears, not a single strand out of place.
I should keep walking. Should go home or go to the team lounge or literally anywhere that’s not here.
Instead I stop in the doorway.
Jake notices me first. “Rodriguez. You need something?”
“Just checking the schedule.” Smooth. Real convincing. “Wanted to make sure I’m cleared for afternoon skate.”
“You know you’re not.” Jake goes back to examining Juliette’s ankle, his fingers pressing gently against the joint. “This is more swelling than I’d like to see. What did you do?”
“Nothing.” She still doesn’t look at me. Hasn’t even acknowledged I’m standing here.
“Juliette.”
“I went skating on Monday. Just the basics. Nothing intense.”
“Your definition of basics apparently included jumps.”
“One jump. Maybe two.”
Jake sighs this very long-suffering sigh. “You’re set back at least a week. Possibly more.”
Her face makes a little frown but she smooths it away so fast I almost miss it. “Okay.”
“I’m serious about this. No jumps. No intense training. If you keep pushing like this, you’re going to be looking at surgery instead of a few more weeks of PT.”
“I understand.”
But she doesn’t sound like she understands. She sounds like she’s agreeing because that’s what you do when medical professionals give you orders, and she’s already planning to ignore them.
I know because I’ve done the exact same thing for the past few months.
Jake starts wrapping her ankle and I know I should leave. But I’m still standing here, and she still hasn’t looked at me once, and something about the set of her jaw makes me want to say something just to see if she’ll even react to me.
“Bad week for skating, Ice Queen?” I offer.
She finally looks at me. And it’s not the arctic blast I’m expecting. There’s something almost soft at the corners of her mouth. Not a smile, but close.
“You could say that.” She tilts her head slightly. “Bad week for harassing figure skaters?”
I blink. Was that... a joke? Did Juliette Chastain just make a joke at me instead of telling me to go away?
“The worst,” I manage. “Very unrewarding. No one appreciates my efforts.”
“Tragic.”
Jake glances between us, like he’s witnessing a miracle. “Rodriguez, unless you actually need something—”
“Right. Yeah. I’ll get out of your way.” I start backing toward the door, trying to play it cool. “Hope the ankle feels better, JuJu.”
I’m leaving film review that afternoon when I see her in the parking lot.
The winter air hits my face, cold and sharp.
She’s getting into her car, moving carefully, favoring her wrapped ankle.
She looks tired. Different than all the other times I’ve seen her.
Her shoulders are hunched in a way I’ve never seen, her movements slower.
Even from across the parking lot I can tell something’s off.
I should get in my own car and drive home and start the process of actually forgetting about her like I promised myself I would. This is stupid. I literally just told myself I was done. But she looks so... defeated. And I’m already halfway across the parking lot before I realize I’m doing it again.
“Hey,” I say when I’m close enough.
She looks up, and for the first time since September, she doesn’t immediately look annoyed to see me. Just... tired. Really tired. There are shadows under her eyes that weren’t there before.
“Hi.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
There’s something in the way she says it that makes me think she’s not actually fine. The word comes out flat, automatic, like she’s been saying it a lot lately and stopped meaning it. But I don’t know her well enough to push.
“Listen Juliette, I know I’ve been... a lot.
For months. And I meant what I said the other day—I’m not trying to push.
But I’m going to ask one more time because apparently I might be the world’s dumbest loser.
” I lean against my car, taking some weight off my knee.
“Would you want to grab coffee sometime? Just coffee. No pressure. Just—I don’t know.
I think you’re interesting and I’d like to get to know you. ”
I’m preparing myself for another rejection. Already planning what I’ll say to Almardon about how I’m finally giving up for real this time.
“Sure. When?”
I almost don’t process it. The words don’t make sense. My mouth opens but nothing comes out. I actually look behind me like maybe she’s talking to someone else, because there’s no way she just said yes to me. “When what?”
“When do you want to get coffee? Isn’t that literally what you just asked me.”
My brain completely blanks. She’s looking at me, actually looking at me, and I can’t quite read her expression. Not enthusiasm exactly. More like resignation. Or maybe exhaustion. But she said yes.
“Uh—whenever. Tomorrow? This weekend? Literally whenever works for you.”
“I’ll be downtown tomorrow morning at the training rink. Then I have to be back here by four for lessons.” She hesitates, her keys jangling slightly in her hand. “We could get coffee on the way.”
I should probably question why she’s suddenly saying yes after shutting me for months. And wonder what changed between earlier and now. But I’m not that smart.
“Yeah. Okay. That would be great.”
“Meet me there? At 2?”
“I’ll be there.”
She nods and gets in her car, the door closing with a solid thunk. I stand there in the cold parking lot, watching her car disappear around the corner, trying to figure out what might have made her change her mind.
Whatever it is, I’m not going to waste it.
Tomorrow I’ll be getting coffee with Juliette Chastain.
And maybe, finally, I can figure out why I can’t get her out of my head.