Page 114 of Oh, Flutz!

I hesitate.I’ll go where you go, I almost say. If only to make sure this klutz doesn’t accidentally fall over and hurt himself.

“This is the worstidea you've ever had,” I warn, and Bryan just throws his head back, letting out a massive whoop.

“I’m serious, I really don’t think icy surfaces and knife-shoes are the best idea!”

That only makes him giggle uncontrollably. “We’re wearingknife-shoes,”he whisper-shouts, and I shake my head.

“I now understand why they compare you to a rodent.”

“Come on, sunshine! Live a little!” He pulls me forward by the hands, and I follow with a groan, although I can’t help but smile as he twirls me around on the ice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You never get sick of saying it.”

“You never get sick of hearing it, either. Otherwise you might act less ridiculous.”

“Aren’t you clever,” he teases, and I grab the bottle from him, taking a brave swig that makes him raise his eyebrows. “Wow. I don’t know if you noticed, but this ischampagne, not vodka, my lovely little ice queen.”

“Ha, ha.” I bite my lip. “Yasha, who called you?”

He drops his arms, letting both of ours hang between us. “My dad.”

Shit.

“He…I don’t really know. He said some stuff.”

I jerk my head back up, anger flaring in my chest, but he shakes his head hastily. “No, not like that. He, uh…he actually kind of apologized.”

“Really?”

“Well, not in so many words, but I think so. It was—”

“What?”

“Weird as fuck,” he admits. I let out a laugh, then tilt my head at him.

“Are you okay?”

He sighs slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I asked him to come to Nationals at the end of the month, and he…he said he would.”

“That’s wonderful.” I smile, then it tilts into a frown. “Right?”

“No, you’re right. I mean, if it pans out, that is. Is it bad that I kind of hope it will, though? Even if it probably won’t?”

I soften. “Of course not. It’s not bad. And I hope it does too, for the record.”

“Mm.” Bryan takes the bottle back, taking a drink and wiping his face when it drips down. “Anyway. You really think we’ve got a shot at the Olympics?

I pause, then decide to let the abrupt subject change go. “In what sense?”

He rolls his eyes. “In the only sense that matters. Do you think we could really win?”

I pause. The automatic answer isobviously, because why else would I have stuck around this long? Him, too? We’ve destroyed everyone’s perceptions and expectations. No one thought we would even last through summer training. It’s been hard, and we’ve both been wrong and screwed up more times than either of us can count. I can tell it’s going to be a longer road than ever when it’s just within reach, but we’ve made it this far, haven’t we? It’s our responsibility to keep pushing. To get there.

“Yes,” I say, and he smirks.

“I’ll drink to that.”

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