Page 35 of Love on the Edge
The sharp scrape of blades cuts through the quiet. The sound is off. Too much force, too deep an edge.
It makes me glance up.
That is when I see Valeria.
She looks different. Like there’s something wrong.
There’s something about the way she moves, the way she carries herself. She looks like she is barely holding it together. She looks too tight, too wound up.
She takes off into a jump, pulling in fast, her rotation sharp. For a second, I think she has it.
Then she lands. Wobbles. Puts her foot down.
My brow furrows, that’s not like her. I haven’t really taken the time to watch her skate before, we haven’t even crossed paths before the party, though I’m not sure how. But from everything I’ve heard, and even witnessed, she’s not the type to make that sort of mistake.
I see the flash of frustration, the sharp inhale, the clench of her jaw. She’s pissed.
She circles back, resets, attacks the jump harder. Too hard. Her blade catches. She crashes.
The sound of her body hitting the ice makes my stomach tighten. That one had to hurt.
She gets up slowly, rolling her shoulders, pressing her lips together like she is willing herself not to react.
"Valeria," Nikolai’s voice cracks through the air. Sharp. Unforgiving. "What the hell was that?"
She exhales hard, still shaking out her wrist. "I—"
"You can land a triple flip in your sleep," he snaps. "Why are you skating like an amateur?"
"I don’t know," she fires back, her voice clipped, angry. "I have no idea what is wrong with me."
Nikolai steps closer to the boards, his eyes drilling into her. His tone is not just frustrated now. It is razor sharp.
"Then figure it out. Fast. Nationals are not months away anymore. They are weeks. You do not have time for this."
She doesn’t respond. Just stands there, breathing hard, fists clenched.
"You’re weak right now," he says, softer but somehow worse. "You are better than this."
I watch as her jaw tightens, her entire body locking up.
She storms off the ice without another word, shoving her guards on, shoulders rigid, spine straight.
Like if she keeps herself together physically, the rest won’t crack.
I follow her to the locker room, grabbing her arm before she can disappear inside. "Hey, Valeria. Are you okay?"
She exhales sharply, ripping her arm free. "I’m fine."
She’s not.
"Val—"
"Ethan, what do you want?" she snaps, turning on me, eyes flashing. Sharp. Defensive. Ready for a fight.
"I want to make sure you’re okay after that fall."
She laughs, but it is bitter, cutting. "I said I’m fine."
