Page 47 of Oh, Flutz!

Bryan doesn’t even take a moment to celebrate. He continues into crossovers, then does it again, this time with arms high over his head. What thehell?I didn’t know he could do that.Ican barely do it, which is why I usually keep my arms in the normal position to minimize risk of messing up.

He keeps going, then does another gorgeous quad toe, this time in combination with a triple Lutz, again with arms over his head, which drags his shirt halfway up. I jerk my eyes away, embarrassed. Why am I even embarrassed? What is going on with me right now? Lucky thing he keeps pulling off insane jumps so I don’t have to worry about it too much.

Triple-triple. Triple-triple-double.A quad Salchow, which—I didn’t even know he’d been working on.It’s like he’s a completely different person. If he skates like this from now on, things are going to be…different. If he skates like this, we have a chance of getting to the Olympics. Ofwinningthem.

When he finally spots me, he stops abruptly.

Shit.

Confusion is written all over his face. He skates over, stepping off the ice and picking up his blue guards, brows furrowed.

“What are you doing here?”

I shrug, trying not to look as awkward as I suddenly feel. “Came early. Wanted to warm up in the off-ice room.”Because I wanted to apologize, even though it’s not my fault, and I couldn’t figure out what to say.

“Oh. Okay.” He seems to believe me, sort of. He’s distracted. Struggling for breath a bit, but zoned out like he’s barely aware he’s talking to me.

“That was…good,” I say, truthfully, motioning to the ice he was just skating on. Good is an understatement. What I really want to ask is why on earth he isn’t doingthatin practice, but I just add, “I mean it,” because he looks more than a little dubious.

“Thanks,” he mutters, taking out an earphone and snapping open the case before slipping it back into his pocket. “Have you seen Lee this morning?”

I swallow a sigh. How much is he going to make me work for this? “No. She wasn’t in the office when I got here. Listen, about last night…”

“I’m here, I’m here,” the woman herself calls from the entrance, sounding extremely hassled, and we both turn.

Lian sets down her bags. “Jeez. I thought all the tourists were gone. Why is traffic so backed up?”

That finally gets any sign of life out of the boy standing across from me. He snorts, putting away his other earphone. “They’re all leaving.”

“Good riddance, then. See, this is why I don’t live in New York City anymore. Between the cars and the people, I was this close to offing myself every day.”

“Here I thought you left because you punched Marissa Cape in the face and got shipped out to Hicksville to slum it here with us.”

“Hilarious.”

I crease my brows. “I’m sorry, did I just hear you punched someone?”

Lian waves a hand. “It was nothing. Just a little spat.”

“She ended up with a concussion!”

“How is itmyfault she went on the ice two seconds after I hit her?” Lian protests, and Bryan bursts out laughing. “And anyway, she was coming at me with a hockey stick, so, maybe it’s a good thing she tripped before I got my own knee blown out á la Nancy Kerrigan.”

Bryan looks at me, still smiling. “Marissa was a total witch back in her day. She was always second to Lee, and she was always mad about it. One time she basically said it was because they wanted a diverse podium.”

Sounds familiar. It may have not been the same, but I know full well how shitty it is when someone tries to say you don’t deserve your wins. “I would’ve given her a concussion, too. Although not by accident.”

Lian laughs. “I really am a terrible influence on the two of you.”

“Marissa’s one of the main skating commentators now. She’s not as bad anymore, I don’t think, but still. You really don’t know her?”

It finally clicks. “Oh, god,” I say, disgusted, and Bryan laughs again.

“See? I told you she’d know her!”

“How could I not? She’s the one who said I looked anorexic last season.”

“What?”

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