Page 126 of Rinkmates

A wide smile stretches across my face as I glance at the stylist in the mirror. “Just don’t destroy your hair and stay calm. We’ll find it.”

The makeup application is a breeze, and I eagerly hop off the stool to check myself out in the full-length mirror. My skintight scarlet dress is a perfect match to my bold red lipstick. These stylists really deserve more recognition for their talents.

“Thank you, Nora. You’re always incredible,” I say.

“Thanks, darlin’,” Nora says. “You’re an easy canvas.”

Riley’s gaze rakes over me appreciatively before he remembers the crisis at hand. “You look…wow. Okay, wardrobe. I need a shirt. Like, now.”

Priya, Nora, and I exchange a glance before jumping into action, riffling through racks of costumes. I pray to the skating gods that we find something, and fast. This routine has to be flawless. Everything rides on it. But as the clock ticks down, my stomach only coils tighter. Where the hell is Riley’s shirt? I notice the stylists searching for it, too, and hell breaks loose.

The jittery dread surges up my throat again.

Don’t puke.

You cannot puke. You have makeup on.

Pull it together. Prove that you deserve to be here.

If only this didn’t hold so much weight.

I’m so close to success .

“Stage call, five minutes!” the director’s voice booms across backstage.

Crap.

I abandon the fruitless search and run to Riley.

Just as I reach him, a stylist I don’t recognize runs up to us with his shirt in her hands, pointing out a large rip in the back of it. We exchange worried glances. Someone sabotaged us.

“Who,” Riley starts, but then the director calls for the last two minutes.

“Go shirtless,” I pant. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous anyway.”

I basically leap into my skates.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My fingers fumble with the laces as I yank my skates on.

“Three minutes!” someone yells.

In my haste, I notice something sharp jabbing into my heel. Then the ball of my foot. I wince but ignore it. No time. The other skate goes on, and I tug the laces tight.

“Lia!” Riley screams.

Wobbling to my feet, I barely register his words because a searing pain lances through my foot and up my leg. I suck in a breath. What the— It’s fine. Mind over matter. I just need to—

Holy shit. The moment I put all my weight on my shoes, agony explodes through my feet. Tears spring to my eyes immediately.

This cannot be happening. Not now. No.

“Hey, you okay?” Riley’s brows furrow in concern.

“Fine,” I grit out. “Go.”

I limp forward, determined to push through. I’m a pro. The show must go on.

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