Page 117 of Oh, Flutz!

My god.This girl really is going to kill me.

Katya pauses halfway down the stairs and looks me up and down, a familiar glint in her eye. “You look good.”

I pick my jaw up from the floor, clearing my throat and recovering just in time for me to smirk at her, holding my hand out for her to take. “You don’t clean up half bad yourself.”

She takes it, walking down the last few steps until she’s at my level. Which is exactly how I know she’s wearing heels—for once, I don’t have to look down to see her face. That might be a problem, considering she looks absolutely gorgeous, and there’s no way she hasn’t noticed that I’ve noticed.

She raises a single eyebrow. “Like what you see, Young?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Andreyeva,” I say, bowing dramatically like we’re at the end of a performance, offering my arm. “Shall we?”

Katya dips into a curtsy, pretending not to be amused even though I can fully see the smile she’s valiantly trying to fight off.“Mudak.”

She takes my arm anyway.

“I can’t believe you’re not wearing a jacket,” my partner grumbles.

“Oops?” I say innocently, but she and I both know I purposefully left it behind. A collared shirt and tie are enough to send me crazy, and the last time I wore a suit—my high school graduation—I got so overstimulated I made myself bleed from all the scratching.

Katya huffs, lifting her skirt so she doesn’t trip. “I look ridiculously overdressed now. Juliet said to dress nice, this is the only nice thing I own.”

“Sorry, sunshine. I promise I’ll bring the penguin suit next time.”

It doesn’t make her laugh. Suddenly she looks almost anxious.

I tilt my head at her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“What?” she asks, a little too quickly. “What are you talking about? Of course you can wear it next time.”

“Katya, come on. Just spit it out.”

She flicks her gaze over at me, then starts walking to the door. “I can’t.”

“Come on, I won’t make fun of you. It can’t possibly be worse than any of the dumb shit I’ve done.”

“Which time?”

“Exactly.”

Katya gives me a look, and I grin. “Come on, you know it’s true.”

She worries her lip, then exhales heavily. “I just—forget it. I’m sorry. About these last few days. It’s just…” She trails off in the way that lets me know she doesn’t really know how to handlethiseither, and it’s weirdly comforting.

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for apologizing. The car’s two minutes away.” I pause, taking her hand and lacing our fingers together. “You look nice.”More than nice.

She smiles. A real smile, not the half-smirks and brush-offs she’s been hitting me with these last few days. “You too.”

“Even without the suit?” I joke, and she rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling.

Tonight is going to be different. I think we might be moving forward again.

We have the timeof our lives, forgetting we’re world class athletes for just one night.

One night of dancing and food and having fun, like we’re not carrying the weight of our whole careers, our whole lives, all the pressure from our families and federations on our shoulders. For one night, we’re not Andreyeva and Young, Team USA. We’re just Katya and Bryan. We’re just us.

“The girls want me to go with them to stalk some guy they think is Nina’s soulmate,” Katya tells me as I spin her around, and I smirk.

“Oh, god, you’re never going to get away from them now. Not if you join the delusion squad.”

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