CHAPTER 17
Troy
KARMA. THIS HAS to be karma.
There’s no other logic that explains why Ana’s temple is glued to mine at the moment.
I want to look anywhere but at her eyes, although the close proximity doesn’t give me more options, other than closing my own. Every second her breath disperses into mine feels like an eternity.
“Ever heard of a breath mint, Larsson?” Her whisper catches me off guard.
Self-consciousness floods my blood as I lose my concentration, bringing a palm to my mouth, hoping it’s not true, but before I can smell anything, Ana’s lips curve into a wide grin, as she shakes her head.
“Oh, my bad. It was just the smell that’s stuck in my nose from the garlic I still can’t get off my leotard.”
I can feel the veins across my neck pulsing, pissed that her attempt to throw me off worked this time.
This is going to be the longest training season of my life.
“Now,” Colette cuts through our spat, “you’re going to step away from him, then you will take a step forward toward her, holding her by the wrist and pulling her toward you again, but fast enough so that it looks like she’s pressed against you, when there will actually be a few inches keeping your chests apart. ”
We follow her instructions, and the first two times, there’s a lag before Ana lands close to me.
I reach for her wrist on the third try, tightening my grip on her waist with my other hand, and as she twirls back toward me, I quickly pull her in.
I think we got it this time, when Colette claps like that was the one, while Ana’s breath is noticeably heavier.
“Out of breath already?”
This time I grin at her out of pure spite.
And I love the ferocious twitch that pulls from her bright eyes.
“This next move requires more focus,” Colette goes on. “Troy, lift Ana’s left leg, wrapping it around your hip, then repeat this with her right leg.”
“Excuse me?” Ana gapes out.
“A tango is filled with passion,” our instructor explains, “even the moves that are softer should have an impact. It’s the perfect dance to embrace your sensuality. Don’t shy away from it.”
“Ana and sensuality—”
“I dare you to finish that sentence, Larsson. You’ll need a month off to tend to your sprained ankle.”
She picks up her left foot, locking eyes with me in the mirror as my arm wraps her body around mine. The intense scowl on her face doesn’t disappear until both her legs are wrapped around my waist. Her back presses to my chest, the same moment my lips hover over her ear.
“I like this look on you.”
Ana immediately presses her teeth down onto her bottom lip as I fight the urge not to laugh. She makes it too easy.
“Now,” Colette says, “flip her around quickly so that you’re face to face again, but make sure her feet wouldn’t touch the ice.”
I’ve done a similar move in one of Violet and my routine’s, so I use my knee to nudge Ana’s forward, firmly holding her by the hip with one hand, and with my other, I lift her through the air as she twists her body around, before I catch her, my arms immediately traveling to the bottom of her skirt for support.
My eyes narrow at the expression on Ana’s face.
She looks a bit shocked at the move, while Colette praises, “That was perfect!” Her attention slips away to her phone as she continues, “This next move is a little more complicated, so to start off, Troy, bend down to your knees, and lift her left leg, then rest it over your shoulder.”
Discontent pours over Ana’s face as I lower myself to my knees.
Feeling the muscles on her calf pulse when my hand touches her, my eyes lift onto hers.
“I never thought I’d live to see this day…
” Unamused, she kicks the edge of my shoulder with the inside of her knee, my eyes smirking at her immediate scowl.
“Once her leg is behind your shoulder,” Colette ignores us, “lift her by her other leg.”
Having the occasional crotch pressed against your face comes with the sport.
Yet the same moves I never thought twice about before, feel exposed now that we’re both aware of the person on the receiving end of this dance.
Heat tingles down my stomach at the proximity between us right now, but I remind myself it’s just because the woman’s crotch is in my face. Nothing more.
Pretending I’m here with anyone else, I hook my arms behind Ana’s knees and lift her, but sadly experience the misfortune of sliding through the slit of her skirt, bumping right into the hem of her leotard.
“Here’s a thought,” she berates. “If you take your face out of my skirt, you might actually see what you’re doing.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, dearest. Your skirt was in my way.” Before she can continue to debate me, I sit her above me, her legs now wrapped around the back of my neck.
“Is that why you lost in PyeongChang?” she taunts. “Violet’s skirt was in your way?”
“Hm, not sure. Is that why you didn’t win in Beijing?” I dish back. “Busy memorizing my routines?”
“Possibly…but that would mean I’d actually be learning something from them.” Through the mirror, I spot her eyes narrow in gratification.
“Believe me, you’d learn a lot.”
“About narcissism? Oh, I’m sure.”
In this moment, part of me wants us not to win this winter, just so I can see her lose again. The only thing shocking about today’s first session is that being around her is even more unpleasant than I thought.
Judging by her expression, she seconds the notion.
Colette’s also probably picked up on the fact that our dynamic isn’t going to be changing as she proceeds, “This is just to familiarize yourselves with the biggest lift in this routine. Before the lift, Ana, you will get in a starting position for a flip, then land facing Troy, with your legs wrapped around his head. The moment will be very fast, though. So you need to get used to this current position first.”
Ana and I exchange a mutual look of this is all your fault.
Colette looks down at her phone. “I have to take this. Keep practicing this position until I get back.”
Ana dismounts from my shoulders, and as we begin to repeat the movement, I remind, “She said to put both your hands on my shoulders, Ana.”
“No, she said one hand on your right shoulder and the other on your left arm.”
“She said both ways work but the method you’re saying isn’t as effective.”
“Maybe it can be. That wasn’t exactly a smooth lift.”
“Because your legs kept moving around.”
“You weren’t holding them tight enough.”
“Is this how it’s going to be between us?”
“If you mean, you acting like an entitled dick and, me not falling at your feet, then sadly I’m afraid so.”
“Fine, let’s try it your way.”
Pushing her hand against my arm and with her other over my shoulder, I lift her around, and once she sits around my neck, Ana boasts, “See, this worked much better.”
Feeling her start to slip, my fingers tightly anchor her thighs in place. “You’re right. Much better.” I roll my eyes, her eyes giving away her heart just jumped against her chest in panic the way mine also did.
_________
This day just keeps getting fucking better.
After a practice of two hours that felt like ten and a growing headache thanks to the girl who keeps testing my patience, I get to see her all over again in just 12 hours.
Texting Mason and Andre that I might miss econ tonight, I let them know to not bother saving me a seat the way they always kindly do.
A few sessions at Wisteria Rink in the afternoon meant I’d be more than a few minutes late to class.
I managed to leave the rink on time, though, and traffic, accompanied by the loyal accelerator on my Porsche, made it so I’d only be half an hour late.
Once I reach the doors of the auditorium, I’m reminded of the shrill echo they amplify. And of course, a good twenty rows turn around at the interruption.
I quickly spot an open seat on the second to last row close to the top and make my way toward it.
About to reach the aisle, long and loose waves of deep brunette sway around the chair, revealing the side of her face.
There’s no time to even curse under my breath, when Ana turns around and sees me.
Looking for another seat is no longer an option, and the challenge appearing on her face confirms she’s about to spot a weakness if I move.
So I pay her a curve of my lips in exchange and take my seat willingly.
Not an hour into the lecture, and I feel my eyelids drooping already.
With my head propped against my fisted arm, I try to keep my pencil and posture upright.
The most boring class on this entire campus during the most exciting season of the year.
Would be a total bust, if it wasn’t for the free entertainment a good portion of the room puts on, while Professor Edwards attempts to teach us microeconomics at 3 pm, right before more than half the class is thinking of a party they’re going to later tonight.
In a university of over 20,000 students, it might appear difficult to remember everyone, but there’s something about this town that, whether you like it or not, you’re bound to recognize a lot more people than expected. At the moment, Eunice and Bryan are arguing with Edwards on Game Theory.
Relocating my attention from the handsy couple next to me, I watch Ana’s hand jerk up.
Edwards calls on her. “Do you have something to add, Ms. Petrov?”
“I think Eunice makes a really valid point. Yes, private firms can abide by their own rules. But considering other players’ decisions isn’t just recommended. It’s essential.”
“Yes, exactly!” Edwards’ enthusiasm grows at the sight of my raised hand. “Ah, Larsson. Do you have something to add?”
Ana snaps around, and the entire day was now worth it for the sheer look of disgust she’s focused on giving me.
“Actually, I do,” I say, “Game Theory is just another theory. And a theory, like any good hypothesis, has its limitations. People don’t always act in their best self-interest. So taking other players’ decisions into account isn’t always essential. You could say it depends on the game.”
“Excellent point, Troy! I see many of you have been doing the assigned readings,” he says, pleased.
Ana interrupts, “An outlier is hardly a reason to discount a theory. One person’s outcome is affected by others’ actions.”
“It doesn’t have to be, though,” I argue. “You shouldn’t just discount a person’s altruistic nature like that.”
“Please, what do you know about altruism?”
“I rest my case, Professor.”
“What?”
Truth be told, I’m not really sure what I just said or who I’m defending. I also know I shouldn’t be poking the bear, but the adrenaline buzzing in my bloodstream made class participation worth it.
_________
The second the clock strikes 4 o’clock, I spring out my seat, and toward the exit. Meeting my friends outside, Andre has started sharing the details about his birthday party that’s next month with us, when Ana reaches us and huffs, “Since when did you become an expert in theories?”
Andre and Mason give me a knowing look of a mix between fear and sympathy, Andre replying, “We’ll catch you later.”
I finally reply, “I dunno. What time did class start?”
“You’re not exactly known for participating in class. Ever. So why now?”
“Guess you inspired me, dearest.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’m liking the whole nickname thing now. It’s fun.”
“The next time you try and challenge me in class—”
“You’ll quit?” Stopping our steps, I smile.
“When the day comes where one of us quits, I promise you, it won’t be me.” Her movements are subtle, but I notice when she grips her book bag tighter. “So you keep pushing me, and I’ll push right back.”
My breathing has picked up, I realize, even though she’s the one who caught up to me.
The touch of grey in the blue of Ana’s eyes promises assurance on her words.
And then she’s gone.