Page 11 of Rinkmates

Rolling her eyes, she lets out an exasperated huff. “You may be right, maybe I should have warned you, but I was afraid you’d say no and vanish. Listen, you’ve got more rooms in this place than I have plushy socks. And trust me, that’s saying a lot. We’ll turn that empty room into something special just for her, make it so she’ll never want to leave! Plus, with your crazy schedules, you’ll hardly ever see each other. We’ll just have to take some staged photos every now and then to keep up appearances. The media will eat it up—they’ll think you’re a reformed playboy, all thanks to the power of love. And when the season is over, and her show is done, you both can separate again, and during season break, you’ll finally have time to work on your anger management at that posh facility down the street.”

Her monologue is over, but all I can do is stare at her. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“Fuck. This sounds like you’re going crazy, you do know that, right? Do you want me to call that posh facility for you now?” I stand up and pretend to check her temperature on her forehead. “Yup. High fever. I need to get you to the doctor, nugget.”

“Idiot,” she says and slams away my hand. “Just imagine it. You’ll be the bad boy turning over a new leaf with the help of Liora, who plays the sweet little fixer-upper for you. You’ll have the perfect excuse to skip those tedious parties, fewer brawlsto deal with, and on top of it all, we can work on your anger management. It’s an amazing deal. And let’s not forget the publicity she’ll bring once she announces her comeback. You remember the media frenzy she stirred up five years ago?”

She grins, knowing that she’s right. “It’s almost too good to be true!” she adds.

“Because it isn’t true. Plus, there really was a huge uproar when she withdrew from the Olympics. The haters gave it their all,” I say, recalling all the comments I’d read, and maybe a few punches I threw for defending her honor whenever someone bad-mouthed her. Maybe.

“People are idiots. I’m sure she had a damn good reason,” Nina says, her tone resolute.

“And what if she’s secretly a serial killer? Or did something really messed up that got her booted from the Olympics?” I tease, knowing it’ll get under Nina’s skin.

Nina grunts in frustration. “I swear, one comment like this to her and I quit.”

“Ah, look at my little girl revealing her inner beast.”

She emits another grunt, and I half expect her to growl next. “It’s her or no one, Ri. I think she’s practically in dire straits financially.”

“Be honest with me, you think we’ll actually benefit from this?”

“It’ll definitely shift the focus away from your mess. And no one will question why you’re laying low until the end of the season, because you’re busy loving that wonderful girl, understand? We’ve got to give it a shot. You know it,” Nina insists.

I squeeze her in a hug. “This is an insane plan, nugget.”

“But aren’t those the best kind?”

“I hate publicity stunts…”

“You’ll love it,” she says with a wink.

There’s something in the way she saidyou’ll love itthat pricks at my heart, a strange sensation I can’t quite pinpoint. Just the idea of Liora moving in here makes me…uneasy? No, it’s something else. But regardless, I don’t think Nina’s plan will actually happen. She was basically killing me with her glance.I can’t live with someone like him.She hates me.

“Helping each other out is what friends are for, right? Either way, you still owe me that pizza. Stress eating is the only way I can cope with your drama.”

“Ah, yes, the pizza debt,” I reply with mock seriousness. “But what about your friend out there? Should we save her a slice or two, because I don’t think she’ll show up here again.”

Nina shrugs, settling into the couch like she owns my damn place. “We wait. She needs a place to crash, and I have a feeling New York’s charm will work its magic for us. She’ll be back soon enough. Trust me. You may be a challenge, but your apartment is drop-dead gorgeous.”

Four

LIORA

Everything comes down to the next three minutes.

Relaxing? Not a chance.

“Quiet on set!” The command blasts out, jolting me upright as I step onto the ice. Seriously, these TV people and their constant shouting. While I was waiting, they yelled at everyone and everything.

“Just skate to the middle, right where the whiteXis and wait,” a woman dressed in all black tells me and rushes to the back.

I glide across the ice, my worn skates leaving precise cuts in its smooth surface, and I do as she says.

The rink I’m standing on is oval shaped and behind me is a backdrop of large, high-definition LED screens showing some vibrant graphics in blue and yellow. Surrounding it all are the audience seats. Hundreds of them.

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