Chapter 10 Evan
Evan
Stefan's eyes are so intent on me I’m about to combust. He's been frozen for forever, and I don’t want to be the first to move. I can’t break this perfect, terrifying moment, lest it be gone forever. Not when Stefan is so close I can feel him in every pore.
This must be a reaction to his performance, and I’m taking advantage of his vulnerability. I shouldn't let this happen. I should be responsible, stop him from looking at me like that, but... I'm desperate for it, for him.
He is so beautiful. Even with his hair stringy with dried sweat, his musky scent overpowering the terrible hotel products. It’s intoxicating, knowing I’m smelling Stefan stripped down. Something usually erased by showers.
The world is still around us, only the thud of our hearts and our rapid breathing breaking the silence.
He leans forward one millimeter, then two, in the most incremental of approaches.
I'm holding my breath, waiting, hoping, as I try to calm my nerves and expectations. Knowing I shouldn’t be doing this, it’s all wrong.
Please, Stefan, please. I want to taste you. I need to taste you.
My phone rings. Loud and obnoxious, shattering the silence.
Both of us jump, Stefan jerking back like he's been shot. His eyes skitter away from me, and he thumps back against the headboard, breathing deeply, not looking at me. The moment is obliterated.
I'm lost, dizzy, trying to wrap my head around what happened, at the same time as I’m reaching into my pocket for my still ringing phone. A lump in my throat turns my greeting into a croak. I clear my throat, then try again. "Hello?"
Stefan almost kissed me.
“Hey,” Theresa’s voice is muffled by the noise of a crowd. “Warm-up started. Where are you?”
“Crap, sorry, I got held up at my room.” It's one way of putting it. How did so much time pass so quickly?
“Uh oh. Are you still alive? Did your pissed-off roommate murder you, and I'm talking to your ghost?”
Heat rushes up to my cheeks. Stefan, only about a foot away from me, can probably hear her. “No, it was fine. It is fine. I don't think he blames me, actually.”
Stefan turns his head toward me and flashes me a dazzling smile. My poor, abused heart stops. “Maybe just a little bit,” he murmurs, as if he's not terrified of what almost happened.
If he's already back to teasing me, he’s recovering quickly and maybe not freaking out about the last few minutes. At least not yet.
"Oh, is that him?" Teresa's voice is teasing as well but also a little awed. Not soft enough, Stefan. “Wait.” She's quiet for a moment, and even from a block away, I'm sure she's suspicious of something. “Am I on speaker phone? Why am I on speaker phone?”
What? Speaker phone? When I pull the phone away from my ear, my face burns hotter.
Crap. I must have hit the button when I answered, too flustered to notice.
“Um... Yeah. You are, actually.” I’m sure I sound a little strangled.
I feel a little strangled. Like I’m caught between two forces certain to tear me to pieces by teasing.
Defeated, I toss the phone down on the mattress next to me. No point in fighting it.
Stefan gives his little signature half-snort laugh as he raises his eyebrow at me.
"Oh, shut up," I mutter at both of them. Teresa giggles through the phone line, and Stefan smiles. “It happens.”
Stefan's eyes are gleaming, and I want to drown in them, but I force myself back.
Again. “I was going to go watch the rhythm dance.
Do you want to come? I'm sure we have some empty seats.” It's a ridiculous question.
If he was going to go, he'd want to sit with the Americans, wouldn't he? Why did I ask? I'm so pathetic.
His smile grows a little bit on one side, quirking up adorably. God, I am so screwed. “I was planning to take a shower and nap for a little while.”
“Oh, right, of course. No, you should definitely do that. It's been a long day.”
“But,” he drawls with another half smile. It's not his camera smile or his sunshine smile or even his usual half smile; it's something different, something I haven't seen before. The warmth in it makes my heart flutter. “Would you mind if I meet you there after I shower? I'm not as tired anymore.”
Now my heart's stopping again. Good Lord, is this man going to give me a heart attack? The look in those eyes sears right through me, setting every nerve ending ablaze. “Uh, sure, of course. Yes, you're definitely welcome. Absolutely.”
Teresa's snickering on the other side of the phone line again, but I ignore her.
“Ok.” He looks vulnerable for some reason, his shyness that creeps out now and then.
Maybe he’s not sure what he’s doing. If so, that's ok.
I'm not either, but I’m in on whatever this ride is.
“As long as you don't mind if I cheer for your competitors,” he adds, a clear attempt to lighten the mood again.
I let him, grinning. “Oh, our dancers are going to waste your dancers.”
Another half snort, and he smiles back at me. “Want to bet on it?”
“Sure.” I lean a little back in towards him, watching his eyes flash with humor. “What do you want to bet?” Oh crap, did I sound as suggestive as I think I did?
Teresa's gasp and giggle says yes. Oops. Her voice goes soto, trying to be subtle, maybe. Hard to do, since she’s still on speaker. "Holy shit, Evan, are you hooking up with Stefan Petryk?" The noise in the background picks up. I must be really late.
“Of course not,” I hiss back at her. Stefan raises his eyebrow again. My cheeks are flaming.
But his smile is lazy when he lets it out again. “I know. If you win, you don't have to leave early tomorrow. If I win, you have to bring me back breakfast.”
“Deal,” I say, too fast, trying to reestablish normalcy. Again.
His hand shoots out, and I shake it solemnly. Both of us start laughing, the absolute ridiculousness of the whole situation kicking in. Teresa's saying something, but I'm not listening, too busy reveling in the sound of Stefan's laugh and the sensation of his hand on mine.
Such a simple, common, everyday gesture, but with Stefan, in this moment, I feel like I'm flying. Like his hand is the only thing keeping me tethered.
Our touch lingers long past the point where a simple handshake would have stopped. I'm struggling not to pull, reel him in closer. I want his body against mine, to finally taste him.
The look in his eyes is compelling me as much as his touch. The softness and vulnerability. A spark of what looks like surprise, as if he's still far from sure about what is happening and never expected anything like this. Or maybe that's just me.
It's like catnip. I want to roll around in him, feel his every curve and muscle, taste the dried sweat on his neck. Surround myself in the bright blue of his eyes until I can't see anything else.
Teresa says something else, and it's enough to snap me back to the moment. Right. I have to get a grip on myself. I clear my throat again, and Stefan drops my hand, red painting his cheeks.
“I'm going to go take a shower,” he says, and he's off the bed in a flash, moving toward the bathroom. “I'll meet you there.”
“Great. Yeah, see you there.” I'm too dazed, too dazzled to move yet, so I sit, watching his back, his amazing ass, until the bathroom door clicks shut.
Yet another sound from Teresa, drowned out by the applause around her. How am I still holding the phone? Oh, I’m not. It’s laying face down on the comforter next to me. I try to focus on it, clearing my throat yet again. “I'm on my way, ok?”
A breathless giggle. "Oh, you're talking to me now, are you?"
“Yeah, shut up.” There is no heat to the statement. In fact, I'd be surprised if she heard me at all over the sound of cheering around her.
“Ok, I'm going to hang up on you now. Get your ass over here.”
“Yeah, on my way.” We hang up, but I don't move as the shower turns on. I picture Stefan naked, long legs stepping into the shower, and a shiver runs through me. I am so screwed.
“You don’t need to leave so early,” Stefan says, the next morning, as I’m heading out to get breakfast. “It’s ok.”
“I don’t mind.” I shoot him a smile, knowing how much the statement cost him.
“No, really. I just need to meditate, but after that…” He pauses, and he’s blushing.
Is he remembering that almost kiss the same way I am?
“I don't mind you being around.” He says it hesitantly, like he thinks I'll either laugh at him or reject him.
Is it me? Do I bring out this adorable shy side of Stefan?
No; that's impossible. “It's kind of nice, actually.”
My cheeks tug, breaking into a smile. Stefan likes having me around. He's gone from hating the very idea, to all but asking me to hang out with him in the morning. Talk about the impossible. Have I tamed the tiger after all?
If I make too big of a deal of it, it might backfire.
He's embarrassed, which might make him twitchy.
I keep my reply casual, nonchalant. “Ok, no problem.
Maybe I can just go pick up breakfast for both of us while you're meditating, and then we can eat in the room.” Are we allowed to bring food out?
No idea; don't care. I'll make it happen.
“Yeah, let's do that.” It’s a huge break in routine, but all his hesitancy is gone. If anything, his voice is a mixture of shy and pleased, which might be the cutest thing I've ever heard.
I’m pacing, nervous, the morning of the free skate, and all but pounce on Gabby when she comes to check on me. “What would it take to keep me in the top ten?”
Her smile is kind, and I’m afraid she’s about to let me down, to remind me I don’t have a shot in hell. “You don’t have to feel responsible for all of Canada, Evan.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m the one who’s here, so—is it possible?”
She shrugs. “I think your free skate will stack up if you skate it clean. And you never know. Everyone else could have a disaster program.”
“I'm not going to hope they mess up so I can do better,” I argue. “Obviously.”
"Of course not," she smiles at me. The too sweet smile everyone on the university team knows too well. “But that doesn't mean I can't hope a little for you.”
“You are a terrifying woman, Gabriela Ramirez.” An insight I doubt most people have. She looks tiny and cute and warm, and she can be. She's also ruthless.
She laughs, clapping me on the shoulder. "You'll do great, hon. I'm not worried about you."
I shouldn't be either. Nobody's expecting me to medal. Anything I do now, having already secured us a single space, is just cake. Nonetheless, I'd like to place in that top ten, earn two spots for Canada in the Olympics.
“Do I need to change anything to give us a better shot?”
She wraps an arm around my shoulder, hugging me against her side as best she can, given she's about ten inches shorter than me. “You just go out there and do what I know you can do, hon. You've got this. Make the audience cry. Hell, make the judges cry.”
It makes me laugh, and if the nerves hit all the harder, sending me pacing again, we both ignore it. “This isn't my sad program.”
“I know.” She meets me eyes with intention. Another moment that could be terrifying if I didn’t know her so well. Gabby’s look can sear straight through a person’s soul. “But you'll still make them cry. From the sheer beauty of your skate.”
At that, heat crawls up my neck and my own eyes prickle. “Damn it, Gabby.”
“I'm only telling you what everybody already knows.” A light punch on my shoulder, and she turns away. “Now get to work. Need me to pull out the blocks?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, Gabs.”
I'm still a little too warm as I lay on my pad, starting my stretches.
Stefan comes in with his father a few minutes later but doesn't acknowledge me. Both of us are focusing so hard, I’m a bit surprised I noticed his entrance.
His presence is a comfort, though. A warmth off to my right, doing double duty by taking all the camera's attention off me.
Somehow, in this ridiculous upside down world, I am in the same group as him and we'll be going on the ice together for our warm-up.
Like a punch to the gut, I realize, for the first time, he's going before me. In no world would I ever have believed I'd be going after Stefan in the free skate. That I could have outscored him in the short. He'll come off the ice as I go onto it. How is this reality?