Page 28 of Unsteady

“Maybe you need to get laid too.”

My face burns, turning red and my hand fumbles to turn my side of the A/C colder, before scratching at the back of my neck.

“I— What—”

“I wasn’t offering, hotshot.” She smiles but turns away just as quickly. “Trust me. That’s just… Not a good idea.”

“Right.” I try to laugh with her. But, I can’t help the singe of embarrassment staining my cheeks.

Of course not. Look at her and look at you.

Pathetic.

“For the record,” I say, looking out along the lake across all the life around us. “I am offering.”

She’s silent. But she’s smiling and shaking her head, avoiding every ounce of the eye contact I’m directing towards her.

But I can’t bring myself to regret it.

NINE

SADIE

“Gorgeous spiral,” Coach Moreau says, her accent thick despite the airy quality of her voice.

Celine Moreau, Canadian bronze medalist and one half of a very famous brother-sister pairs team, is the current pairs team coach. Only two pairs currently train as part of the Waterfell team, plus the eight singles. Today, she’s the only coach present for first season practice; really, it’s more of a warm-up skate mixed with team bonding.

My coach is strangely absent, but I try not to think about that. Try not to let that anxiety even take root.

Instead, I find myself, unfortunately, thinking about Rhys.

His massive hands, his stupid pretty doe eyes and dimpled smile. Everything. I’m distracted—sloppy, if anything, and I know Coach Kelley wouldn’t be pleased, that I’d get reprimanded and do it again until perfect. I’d prefer that, it’s what I need, so I let the compliments roll off my shoulders, passing my ears as background noise.

Eventually, the practice expires, the entire team circling up for a quick meeting. I’ve got blinders on, and thanks to Rhys’ extravagant gift that I begged him to take back last skate, music still plays through the fancy headphones in my ears—which is the only reason I don’t hear him approach.

He plucks a headphone from my ear.

“This is sex music,” Luc whispers. I elbow him discreetly, still pretending to listen to the encouragement from his coach.

Luc Laroux is a handsome—and unfortunately, skilled—pairs skater. Had he stopped dating his partners he might’ve been on his Olympic tour right now. Yet, he’s here, with a set of skills that the other pairs team obviously envy, and a continuous heartbreaker reputation.

Currently, he’s found himself partnerless, again.

“I saw Rose on a magazine cover the other day. Still too proud to grovel?”

His jaw clenches tight, all mirth melting from his face at the mention of his long-time partner, the now popular Olympic prospect currently plastered everywhere in the skating world alongside her new endearing partner.

The ice king himself almost looks jealous.

“Aw,” I whimper. “Do you miss her?”

There’s a flash in his eyes, before he covers it with a wicked smirk that I know has gotten him under many women’s skirts

“Why? Are you offering to be my new partner?”

I fake gag. “Over my dead body.”

He snickers, hidden under the loud double clap from Moreau signaling the end of practice.

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