Page 4 of Born of Ice

Nothing, nothing feels as easy and as right as skating. Nothing brings me closer to my mom. To the days I had with her.

We make our first circle around the perimeter, warming up our skates before assuming our position. This will be nice and easy tonight. Our last competition before we focus on preparing for the Olympics next year.

All we have to do is have fun on the ice tonight.

That is until Erik leans in and whispers, “Let’s do that new twist lift we choreographed, instead of the one we normally do.”

“What?” I lift my eyes to his, blinking wildly at the sudden turn of events. “But we’ve never done that one in this program,” I say through a fake smile because I’m very much aware how many people are watching us right now. The new-age Romeo and Juliet as they branded us from the get-go, and ever since then our every move, word, and smile on ice has been under the microscope.

It’s not often couples in our sport get so popular with the public that they can rival Hollywood stars, but we do. At least, that’s what tabloids always say.

Not that I’ve ever minded, because Erik and I are perfect. We love each other and aren’t afraid to show that to the world. We don’t fight, don’t have arguments. I don’t think we’ve ever been spottednotholding hands. And we’re always on the same page. Or we were until he just brought this up because the same thought never crossed my mind.

“So? It will be a great practice run before the Olympics. This program is not life or death anyway if we don’t succeed, but…” he trails off just before we finish our perimeter run and take position at the edge of the rink. “It’d be great if wedidn’ttank it. Jasper said there are new potential sponsors in the audience tonight.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

Ah, that’s what this is about. Sponsors mean money. And if there is something Erik always loves to have plenty of, it’s that.Not that I blame him, really, figure skaters don’t make that much on their own. We rely heavily on those sponsorships, but is this worth the risk?

I’m still not convinced, and we have all but five seconds before the music starts. Erik must see my hesitation because he leans in and presses his lips to mine in a sweet kiss that the audience eats up with a round ofawwws. “Come on, Elle, we got this. Trust me?”

I heave out a shaky breath, look into those eyes I love so much—the eyes that will become my future in the next few minutes—and nod. “I trust you.”

How could I not?

Erik’s face breaks out in a heartbreaking smile as he kisses me deeper, accompanied by loud howls from the excited crowd, and takes his position behind me, his hands wrapping around my suddenly tense shoulders. I'm still not one hundred percent on board with this new plan. But I trust him.

Our routines are always romantic, full of feelings, gentle touches, emotions, and love as we feed the whole Romeo and Juliet angle. It just comes natural to us. We don’t have to fake it and again, sponsors absolutely love it. When it comes to attention, you either have to be a saint or the devil. There’s no in between.

Two seconds later, the first notes of our music trickle in and off we go.

Erik moves first, skating around me in half lounges as my hands reach out to him as if I’m pleading for his touch that he gives me. His hands go around my waist and he picks me up with ease, skating around with me in his arms as I kick my feet up, laying my head on his shoulder, my fingers brushing against his smooth cheek and then he gently sets me on one foot, skating backward, leading me after him as I glide on that one foot.And we fall into a beautiful side by side triple toe double toe combination. Our moves are synchronized to perfection.

Our bodies so attune to each other that it almost looks like we share one mind. And it’s been like that from the very first day four years ago when we were partnered during auditions at Filip’s training center and clicked.

In every way.

Erik follows it by lifting me above his head with just one hand as we twirl around, and he finishes it by dipping me down before we are back to skating side by side, hand in hand, across the whole ice.

I’ve never had a partner like him before, and I’m sure I’d never be able to dance with anyone else. I trust him like I’ve never trusted anyone else, yet as the first half of our program passes, the little nagging feeling inside my chest and tension in my shoulders intensifies.

We really shouldn’t be doing this tonight. But Erik really wants it. He wants to impress the audience. That much is clear. And this component is bound to take the cake.

The new twist lift we created for the Olympics routine is like nothing we’ve done before. Where our old trick was just a good old throw and twist in the air once or twice and land back safely in his arms, this one requires extreme concentration and power. From both of us.

Erik needs to throw me high and hard enough for me to revolve three whole times in the air at an almost parallel angle to his vertical body before he catches me again. And if that isn’t hard enough in itself, we added an extra move. Instead of lifting me from the regular position while both of my feet are on the ice, he is to throw me from a split.

The split on itself shifts the equilibrium of the throw. The weight distribution is no longer in one place. But he’s right, we’ve practiced it hundreds of times already. We’ve done themsuccessfully during practices countless times; however, never on a live stage.

And never in the middle of the routine when your muscles are already fatigued.

We can do it. I trust him. Itrusthim. Erik would never do anything to jeopardize us. Me. Never.I repeat in my head all while keeping my face in a serene mask.

Seconds stretch into minutes as we mirror skate, as we loop, as we scratch spin, as we come together in a shadow run, and before I know it, Erik sets his eyes on mine.

“Trust me?” he mouths, and before I have a chance to give him an answer, his hands are on my waist and my body acts on instinct, my legs stretching into a wide split as he hefts me up in the air with all the force he can muster.

And a gust of chilly wind hits my face with the heavy force, my dress tangling around my legs.

Holy shit!I scream inside my head as adrenalin surges through my blood.

---