Page 109 of Oh, Flutz!

I glance down—der’mo.That’s a mistake. Suddenly I feel like I’m about to plummet straight down into the streets below, the cars looking impossibly and nauseatingly tiny. My stomach sweeps, and I instinctively edge closer to Bryan, who glances down at me quizzically.

“You good?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply, a little too quickly, and he steps back, taking me with him.

“‘Cause I’m about to puke,” he says. “You win that one. I want to get back on solid ground.”

I hope my face doesn’t show the amount of relief I’m feeling. “Well, if you insist. Glad to see you acknowledging that I’m better than you.”

Bryan rolls his eyes, keeping his arm looped around me as we get away from that death wish, then turns to me, clasping his hands together and dropping to one knee. “I worship at your feet, Andreyeva.”

“As you should, Young.”

I turn, expecting him to get over the joke and get up, but he’s not budging, still down on one knee.

“What’s wrong with you? Get up,” I hiss, grabbing him by the arm and trying to wrench him up, but he’s too busy grinning and enjoying this like the absolute idiot he is. That’s when it sinks in.

“If you embarrass me, I will be pissed,” I warn, but he ignores me completely. He takes both my hands, gazing up at me with those big blue eyes, pretending to be all supplicant and humble, and the people around us are starting to stare, probably getting averywrong idea.Oh, for god’s sake.

“O Katya, Savior of Ice Sport, patron goddess of the under-appreciated and the overachieving, won’t you do me the honor of being my partner forever and ever?”

“Everyone’s looking at us. Stop it.”

He furrows his eyebrows gently, being so good at faking innocence it would be impressive if I weren’t extremely pissed. “Not until you say yes.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I say under my breath through a broad fake smile. “Yes,” I say loudly, and the tour groups around us burst into applause.

“Get that smile off your face before I punch you,” I inform him, and Bryan pops up to his feet, looping an arm back around my shoulders.

“You wouldn’t dare ruin all of this,” he fake-gasps, slapping his hands to his face.

“Just try me, we’ll play a fun little game, calledhow swollen can your jaw get before exploding?”

“Ha. Very funny.” Then he slaps his hand back over his mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just—” he pulls away, doubling over and shaking with laughter. “Oh,Savior of Ice Sport—”

I smack him. “Shut up!”

“Never. I love it when you get all red.”

I give him an absolutely filthy look, not that it does much good. He’s still laughing at me, and I shove him, knocking him back into a wall.

“Ow,” he says, but he’s so busy choking on laughter that he can barely even say it. “Oh my god, you should see the look on your face.”

I’m fuming. “I’m going tokillyou.”

He’s still practically turning blue from lack of oxygen, and I raise my hand threateningly. “You don’t think I can make you regret the day your mother dropped you on your head to make you this crazy,mudak?”

He stops laughing, looking at me before shaking his head solemnly. “Of course not. I’m very scared of you.”

“Good,” I grumble. He must not be that scared of me, though, because he gets off the wall and puts his arm around my waist, pretending like he isn’t smiling like the dumbass he is every time I glance back at him.

“You know I would never let you fall, right?” he says suddenly, and I look up at him.

I do.The answer comes up so automatically that it surprises me. Because I do know. He’s always there to break it for me. That time at Nebelhorn, in competition, at every practice we’ve ever had—it should be reassuring.

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