CHAPTER 21
Troy
“PUT YOUR HANDS on my shoulders,” I demand.
This woman manages to infuriate me within seconds. Our break was a perfect moment of serene calm. Until I waltzed back into the dance studio to the storm that is Ana Petrov.
She doesn’t listen to a damn thing I say.
We were tamer around Colette, but now that’s she’s gone. Well…we both don’t give a shit. And we’re comfortable saying whatever the hell we want to each other without holding back.
“Higher,” I say.
“They’re high enough.”
“No, they’re not.” My eyes drop to her arms, gesturing there. I look back into her eyes that now appear as if she just killed me with them. “Don’t worry, dearest. I’ll help you. You just have to listen to me.”
She scoffs. “Help me with what?”
“Landing a triple axel.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Pull your shoulders back.”
“I already did.”
“When? Today?”
She lifts her chest upward, then grits out, “Better?”
“Honestly?”
Ana slouches back.
“If you fixed your posture you’d be landing triple axels,” I point out.
“Since your posture’s so perfect, why is it that you keep wobbling when you lift me, then, huh?”
“This may come as a shock to you, but…” I drag out, “your posture.”
She glares at me and mocks, “If my posture was fixed, you think you could actually lift me without losing your balance?”
I lean in a step so that we’re just inches apart. Grazing my palm around the back of her thigh, I anchor her weight into mine, hoisting her legs up so that they wrap around my waist tight.
“You tell me.”
Ana’s eyes travel to my mouth, her breath hitching at the haste, unexpected move.
I press down onto my lips to stop from smirking. She’s not thinking of skating right now. Ever since I met this girl when I was seven, and she was five, her eyes give her away every single time. If not for her eyes, her cheeks would be in close second.
My own body registers Ana’s weight wrapped around mine. Her lips just inches from my mouth. The sweet smell of strawberry always lingering from her undone waves. Her skin that feels hot and sticky pressed against my hands from our hours of choreography.
I regain back my composure with a deep breath, hoping she didn’t feel the pressure poking from my pants.
“Looks like I’m not the problem here,” I conclude. When she rolls her eyes, I let go of her legs, putting her down.
We start with the first move Colette taught us today that includes some of the tango dancing elements.
For this element, I hook a hand around the back of Ana’s knee, pulling it over my hip. One of her hands drops to my shoulder, while her other rests over my free hand.
Dipping her slowly, I bring her thigh closer to my hip. Her eyelids grow heavy so I drop my gaze to her lips. She swallows when my eyes stay there. “It’s okay if you need to moan. I won’t judge.”
Ana blinks rapidly, snapping herself out of the dirty daydream I bet she was just having. “You’re never going to hear me moan, Troy,” she snaps.
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Thank God. The sound would probably burn my ears right off.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders at that, before we move on to the tango dance sequences.
Our foot work is better than yesterday, but it’s also far from good.
Just like skating, the tango has to be seamless.
Two bodies moving as one. Like butter. All descriptions that oppose Ana and my body language.
One step, two step, pause with eye contact, tight hold on each other’s hand, another step back, front, to the side. We repeat the cycle twice, squeezing in another lift, before we decide to attempt more of the cardio portions.
The first ice dance lift we begin with is a stationary hold lift. It’s the one Colette taught us during the first day of our practice, where Ana and I practiced in front of the mirror. The one where she gave me the same lust-dripped look that she just did, without probably meaning to.
Facing the mirrored wall, Ana’s back presses against my chest, her legs fastened around my hips. Our eyes meet in the reflection, just like they did that day.
“Am I crazy, or does this position look kinda just like, you know?” I gesture to not say it aloud. “Wait, you probably don’t know.”
She scoffs. “It’s funny how you think I’m this innocent virgin, when I probably know more in bed than you do.”
Now that gets a snort out of me. And piques my curiosity.
“That’s a pretty bold claim to make without proof, Annabel.”
I haven’t called her that in a while, I now realize. Judging by Ana’s startled expression, the nickname also took her by surprise.
And now that her cheeks are flushed even brighter, I wonder why the hell I ever stopped calling her that.
She positions herself for the dismount, which involves her swinging her outer leg away from me, so that with a push from my arms, she can twist in the air and land facing me, before her feet touch the ground.
This time when her posture turns slouchier, I refrain from voicing it to her. I’m not trying to come across as aggressive even though her frame needs some work. Up until a few years ago, her posture was never an issue. I’m not sure what’s changed.
I guess I didn’t need to give my input anyway, when Ana wobbles beside me, tripping over her ankle and pushing me onto the floor as she tumbles over me.
Right on top of me, to be more accurate.
She stares at me, her eyes wide.
“Look, I’m flattered.” I slowly tuck a wave behind her ear. “But I’m just not interested.”
“Oh, fuck off.” She quickly pushes herself off me.
That touch must have riled her up more than she expected because she immediately pulls her hair back into a tight bun.
A few seconds, that’s probably how long her body was pressed over mine. And yet, I felt the hammering of her heartbeat over mine. The sound as out of control as the curiosity still brimming from her eyes.
Heat fills my own body at the intensity.
“We should be standing closer,” Ana suggests, her eyes landing back on mine.
I raise a brow at her. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what our instructor told us to follow,” she amends.
“Sure.”
“You’re not getting under my skin.”
“Hm, I think I just was.”
Her cheeks flush.
Again.
_________
After practicing for another good half hour, my eyes land on the clock, and I realize the time. Shit.
“Sorry, I have to go,” I say as we finish practicing the lift we’re working on.
Ana’s face twists in confusion.
Guilt hits me for forgetting to tell her that something came up today that I had to take care of. But I know Ana. At this point, any excuse I give her won’t fly. And I can’t tell her the truth since it’s a private matter.
“Where are you going?” she asks, understandably annoyed.
“To a friend’s house,” I say, though it’s technically not a lie.
“We have 15 minutes left!”
“I have to leave early. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. It was last minute.”
“So you’re just gonna leave whenever you feel like it from now on?”
“It’s Friday,” I try and lighten up the situation.
That fails, since she drops her hands to her hips. “And tomorrow’s Saturday. Glad you know your days of the week.”
“I have somewhere to be right now. It’s important.”
“Ah, well if it’s important,” she says sarcastically. “For a second, I forgot that the world revolves around you.”
I know it’d be smarter to wait until tomorrow to tell Ana about the upcoming family trip, but her reaction’s now pissing me off. I apologized for forgetting I had to leave early, it really is important, and no I can’t tell her why.
So out of pure annoyance, I add, “And just a heads up, I won’t be at practice for a week, the last week of June. My family has a vacation planned.”
“You’re going on a vacation?” Her eyes pop wide. “In the middle of our practice?”
“It’s just for a week.”
She scoffs. “I’m glad you’re taking this entire thing seriously. It’s not like you’re a big reason we have this delay in our schedule.”
“Oh, believe me, If I didn’t take this seriously, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Except, you’re not, ‘cause you’re leaving now, and just threw your vacation plans in for good measure.”
“Look, the vacation is a family thing, not that I need to explain myself to you. And I sure as hell don’t need you to make me feel guilty.”
“Enjoy your time in Greece, Troy.”
“Unlike you, some of us actually have lives outside of skating, Ana.”
“Unlike you, some of us don’t have a private jet to go on whenever we feel like it.”
“I’m going on my private ship, actually. So the ride’s much slower. Might even take more than a week, who knows. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to bring you back a postcard.”
Her nostrils flare in anger. “Some things never change.”
“I see you’re still doing the whole ‘cryptic’ thing, nice…”
“I’m cryptic because you’re insufferable.”
“You think I’m insufferable because you’re used to calling all the shots with your previous skating partner.”
“No, I think you’re insufferable because you’re insufferable.”
“You are such a child.”
“Ha, that’s rich coming from you!”
“Whatever.” I grab my bag from the floor, already walking toward the exit. “Have a great Friday night, Petrov!” I yell from the doorway. “I’m out.”