Page 22 of Oh, Flutz!

“I think we can provide that,” Bryan mumbles darkly.

“Not that kind of drama. People like pairs that like each other, ones with tension.”

Oh, absolutely not. I know what she’s saying, and it’s not happening, not while I still have anything to say about it.I cross my arms. “Can I clarify that there’s no chance I pretend to date him?”

Bryan’s eyes blow wide, like he hadn’t realized that’s what Lian was implying. “Oh,hellno! No way!”

“I don’t mean dating, necessarily. Just don’t look like you want to hit each other all the time. Besides, it’s common enough for partners to be involved; what people really like is thewill-they, won’t-they. You don’t have to,” Lian emphasizes, before I can open my mouth. “It’s just something to keep in mind.”

Bryan snorts. “Sure. Let me think. Hm,no.”

I raise a gloved hand. “I second that.” I turn to the boy standing next to me. “It’s not like anyone would believe it, after all.”

The corner of his mouth lifts into yet another insufferable smirk. “Why? Because I’m so out of your league?”

I smile back at him in a way that I hope conveys how much I want to rip that smirk off and put it into a blender. “Like I said. I don’t think it will happen.”

Lian shrugs, clearly not bothering anymore. “Do whatever you want. But on the ice, and in front of the media, you two are a united front, alright? You’re gonna have to get damn good at pretending, because the last thing I need is an AFSC publicist hassling me about its new couple being an absolute press disaster. I have other things on my mind. Like getting the two of you to Nationals in a year.” She grimaces at the reminder of our deadline.

“The Olympics,” Bryan and I both correct at once, then side-eye each other.Mudak, I think contemptuously, even though we’re agreeing.

Lian sighs heavily. “I need more coffee.”

It's one o'clock whenwe get forced off the ice to make way for the hockey team, which I guess explains the break for lunch being so long.

I peel my sweat-soaked black jacket off, replacing it with the identical replacement I’d packed into my duffel bag—almost everything I own is dark athleisure, which I realized when I had to pack all of my things. Mikhail and Anna may have had a point with all those increasingly desperate attempts at getting me to buy anything other than black. “Katenka,please? You dress like your life is a funeral!” they’d cry, and try to hold me down while forcing primary colors on me—if they had it their way, my closet would look more like a seven-year-old girl’s, or maybe a clown’s.

No matter. At least this way I don’t have to worry about sweat stains. Or about looking like a clown.

I pull an oversized sweatshirt over my head, tugging my freshly redone bun free as it gets caught. Then I square my shoulders, shrug my bag strap on, and push my way back through the door of the locker room. There must be some kind of snack bar situation around here. Hell, I’ll settle for a vending machine.

“Hey, wait up!”

I stop short.Mudak, I think automatically, already grinding my teeth at the sound of that obnoxious, grating, impossibly irritating voice.

I ignore him, and keep walking, but the downside of being short is that people (namelyfreakishly tallpeople) can catch up pretty quickly. Sure enough, within two quick strides Bryan is walking next to me, hands stuffed in his vest pockets.

“Hey,” he says, with far too much enthusiasm for someone who’s just spent the entire morning purposefully pissing me off.

“Hi,” I mutter, purely because I have no other option, continuing the charge ahead even though I have no idea where I’m going. I’m not about to slow down for him. Or give him any kind of encouragement to keep talking to me.

Apparently, and unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to need any. “Where you headed off to?”

“The pits of hell.”

“NowthatI can believe.” He pivots and starts walking backwards, facing me. “Although I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re looking for food.”

“I would be impressed, if it weren’t our lunch break.”

Bryan just cracks that big grin. “Lucky guess.”

I huff at his idiocy and push through the doors.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Of course,” I lie.

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. Well, since you clearly know all the best spots around here, I guess I’ll follow you.”

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