CHAPTER 2
Troy
“YOU AND ANA? I’ll pray for you, man.” My best friend, Xavier, pats me on the back before he joins the rest of the Faerieladle Hummingbirds hockey team for the first day of practice.
And this is the reason you don’t tell a single soul any of your business in this ridiculous place.
It hasn’t even been an hour, and news has already broke that the woman with the biggest stick up her ass is going to be the person I’m supposed to skate with for close to a year and then compete with.
Violet is well, Violet, but Ana is, how do I call it? Another breed. She thinks that everyone thinks they’re better than her, while she barges around the rink behaving as if she’s the best.
Maybe I’m a huge dick, but rage wasn’t the first emotion running through me when Violet made her memorable announcement this morning. It was pure relief and not an ounce of envy for that asshole, Ethan who has to skate with her now.
You’d think that after nine years of pairing with someone in the sport, meeting tons of career highs and lows together, perfecting the most complicated sequences, that there’d be some level of loyalty, or I don’t know, disappointment in such an abruptly severed tie.
And that might’ve been the case if Violet and I had chemistry.
On the ice.
Which according to our Coach, Elena Sokolov, it always felt forced, improvements made here and there in the routines not enough to fix it. You either have a connection with your skating pair naturally or you don’t.
Fans can tell when you’re faking it and they almost always rather a pairing have it.
Violet’s wild fixation on Ana and Ethan’s routines—how ours had to be loads better than theirs, which obviously, I never had the intention to score second—was starting to feel like a total drag, a whole new level of monotony to our already boring sessions.
But anything—and I mean anything—would be better than to skate with Petrov.
The girl and I have never gotten along.
Not since we met when I was seven and she was five.
Not in middle school.
Not in high school or college.
And definitely not now.
Ana’s talented, I’ll give her that. But talent is meaningless when it’s attached to the girl who hates your guts and goes out of her way to remind you of it.
It’s bad enough that I have to see her 1-4 pm every Thursday at the one grad school summer elective I was forced to take, but now, if we skate together, that would mean spending 6-9 am with her, six days a week, for over six months.
Yeah, fuck no.
At least I have the rest of today to weigh in the rest of my options—none that come to mind fucking sadly at the moment.
In the 20 years I’ve been skating, I haven’t skipped practice more than three times, and today’s going to be the fourth.
_____________
After ordering the strongest coffee I could find on campus, I slump into the chair of the Faerieladle economics lecture hall. The sound of my friends, Mason and Andre’s voices is drowned out by the rowdy chattering of students wishing they were anywhere but here during the first week of summer.
Feeling my friends’ eyes on me, I continue to stare at the seat in front of me, already replaying the gloomy events from earlier.
Andre leans in, and nudges, “What’s with you?”
I’m about to respond when our professor calls for decorum. The chaos soothes to a silence when the crack of the exit doors fills the room with a gush of the summer heat. Turning around, I spot her and mutter under my breath, “Ana.”
Her eyes land on mine before she quickly scowls and looks away. I shift back around, pressing my back against the seat.
And I’ve sunk lower in this squeaky chair somehow.
_________
The day starts to pick up once we leave the chilly auditorium, the warmth of the sun beaming over us as we head toward the business parking structure.
“I heard Chloe and Isabella are still looking for new partners,” Mason says, facing me, “and they both placed for Nationals.”
“Pretty sure they’re both going to the party tonight, too,” Andre adds. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I’d ask Chloe. She’s hot, and she’s had a crush on you for years.”
I pay a knowing scoff toward my friends, who both have had a thing for Chloe for probably just as long. I could ask her, but truth is, I have the best chance at winning with Ana now that Violet’s out of the picture.
And now I feel sick again…
To think I was excited for tonight before everything that happened today, the annual costume party Xavier throws in the dead of summer for no apparent reason at all.
Luckily for me, none of my friends are on the hockey team, with the exception of Xavier and my older brother, Dimitri.
Another thing to add to the ongoing list of disappointments I’ve checked off for my dad.
The son of the biggest hockey coach in the NHL chose figure skating, betraying both his brothers, his father, and most importantly, his grandfather.
No Olympic gold medal would replace the void of his middle child not fulfilling the family name. Not the one I earned at the last Olympics with Violet or if I won it again and again. He would always wish I chose the right sport.
That’s not the only reason Xavier’s the one person I became close with.
The Faerieladle Hummingbirds, mainly, are too cocky for their own good, dismissing figure skating as a serious craft.
And having your brothers continue in the footsteps of the family sport, well, you don’t exactly look good.
But they don’t know the full story. No one does.
_________
“Hey, Troy!” Chloe leaps into my arms, the whiskers on her cat costume tickling my neck.
I guess I owe Xavier twenty bucks. He bet Chloe would come up to me within thirty minutes of my arriving at the party. I told him he was crazy. Well, I got here five minutes ago. So now I’m starting to think I might be the crazy one…
“Hey, Chlo.” My forced grin can’t match her wide, gummy smile.
The soft hold she has on my forearm tells me she’s had a few drinks already. Chloe leans her weight in, lifting her chocolate eyes up at me. “I heard about you and Violet,” she says, her lips pulled together into a pout. “I’m so sorry. Ana’s lucky, though.”
Her grip tightens.
“Yeah, it’s been a pretty weird day.” I sigh. “So, um, I heard you’re also looking for a pair?”
I hate how desperate I sound.
“Oh, actually,” she says. “I’m skating with Dylan.”
Two sucker punches in the span of 24 hours. Must be a fucking record.
“That’s awesome,” I deflect.
“Wait.” Her eyes shoot up. “Were you gonna ask?”
“No. Well.” I swallow. “Yes, I’m still thinking about everything.”
“You don’t wanna skate with Ana?” Chloe nods as if a lightbulb just went on in her head. “I get it. Ethan was telling us how awful it was to skate with her. I’d love to skate with you! And don’t worry. I’ll just talk to Dylan and tell him you asked me first but needed some time to sort things out.”
Seeing the way the blonde’s lashes bat as flirtatiously as the tone in her voice, I start regretting even asking her. I can almost picture how awkward our practices would be.
“No, that’s not necessary,” I backtrack. “I’m glad you found a partner.”
And I wish I could say I’m surprised by the Ethan remark. The guy’s been a jackass since the day I first met him. Running his mouth over the girl who’s the only reason he has an Olympic medal to his name is on par with the moron’s behavior.
“Oh, okay,” Chloe replies, disappointment settling over her temple. “But if you wanna practice together ever, just text me.” She gently bites down on her bottom lip. “I won’t tell Ana.”
As deep as my discontent for Petrov runs, I don’t have any intentions of participating in gossip that involves her. Or degrading her behind her back. I prefer the traditional way—to her face.
I take a small step back from Chloe, and I think she gets the hint. She releases her hand off me, a flush rising across her cheeks.
“Thanks for the offer,” I manage. “I’ll see you around, okay.”
“Okay.” She tucks a strand behind her ear, even though her hair wasn’t in her face, embarrassment taking over her features.
As I shift around, I immediately bump into a group of bunny clad girls, three witches, and two guys dressed as vampires, managing to dodge any drinks from spilling over me. Instead, I jump as a party horn blows right in my face once I’ve reached the other end of the room.
Either parties used to be more fun in undergrad, or I never really enjoyed them as much as I’d turn to them for an escape.
Same strobes of lights, predictable scenes of a good portion of the campus trying to get laid, and the monotonous drumming beat of the sound system that’ll linger in my ears tomorrow morning.
I spot Xavier in the corner, chatting with his future girlfriend, and I’m staring down at this ridiculous ensemble of Grecian armor he convinced me to wear.
While my boredom persists, a loud cheer flickers above the music, turning over my shoulder to find a group of girls squealing at each other. But then my gaze lands on the girl standing right beside them with her back to me.
Long, glossy waves of burgundy pulled up high enough to expose ivory skin. Never-ending layers of lavender silk hugging a soft waist.
A Grecian dress.
We’re a match. Two halves of a pair.
Without even realizing it, she takes a step closer to me, electricity buzzing along my chest at the sway of her hips, the dress gripping every single curve on her tight body.
Fuck, this girl moves well.
And maybe this snoozefest of a party’s about to get more interesting.
Approaching mystery girl, my heart beating in record speed, I tap her shoulder. “You stole my costume idea, but I guess I could forgive you if you let me get you a drink.”
Acid shoots up my throat as she turns around, and I’m met with the familiar pair of indigo eyes.
Fucking FUCK.
“Holy shit,” I blurt out, “it’s you.”
Ana gawks, basking in my untimely death from embarrassment. “Were you…were you hitting on me?”