Page 140 of Revolve
“Sonaked.”
I lift a brow. “You sound so sure.”
“Because I am. You’re with me and only me, Sierra. There’s no one else I’d be with on or off the ice. We’re partners. Forever.”
“Sounds scary.”
He intertwines our fingers. “Sounds like us.”
I smile. “Remember when you asked me what gets me out of my head?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s you.” When my lips meet his and my hands cup his face, I feel it—his skin is cold and clammy, almost like he’s nervous. He’s behaving like I do before a performance, jittery and unsure. But ever since our last competition, my nerves have faded. With him, skating feels more like a thrill than a source of anxiety.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly, sitting beside him on the bench, waiting for our turn.
He lifts our entwined hands and presses a gentle kiss to the back of mine. “I’m perfect.”
“All right,” Lidia says, crouching in front of us. “We’ve practiced, we’ve bickered, we’ve given me migraines that get stronger each day, but we’re here. You two have been the toughest pair I’ve ever coached, but that made it worth it. Whatever happens, I’m proud of the phenomenal team you’ve become in such a short amount of time. Now go show them what you’ve worked for.”
Dylan and I glance at each other. This might be the sweetest speech she’s ever made.
“If we hug you, are you going to kill us?” I ask.
“Of course not, Sierra,” Dylan answers instead. “She’ll just make us do our free skate nineteen times.”
Lidia rolls her eyes and pulls us both in for a tight hug. Then when our names are called, she pulls back, and I swear I hear her sniffle.
We glide to center ice, me as Rapunzel, Dylan as Flynn, complete with that stray lock of hair falling over his forehead and my short hair. He rests his hand over my steady heart, and I place mine over his. To my surprise, I feel his pulse racing. Before we begin, he mouths anI love you.
The music starts, and each lift is strong. But when we do a synchronized spin, my smile falters because Dylan winces. I try to see what’s wrong, but he hides it well under his perfect smile. Each lift is flawless on the outside, but I notice the smallest, most minuscule tremor in his hand. For the next three minutes, I push the questioning thoughts away, but a part of me wants to stop, to make sure he’s okay. I know he wouldn’t even bat an eye if we lost. But I wonder if he knows I’d do the same. Every part of me is in this because he’s with me, but skating would never come before him. Not ever.
His smile falters when he meets my eyes, and my heart sinks. Despite that, he snaps back to focus, and when he lifts me in the exact position that I fell all that time ago, there’s not an ounce of fear in me. The crowd seems to hold their breath, and Dylan hoists me up in a reverse one-armed lasso, and we execute it to perfection. Back on my skates, we descend into our closing routine, and when we’re back-to-back in our end position, we’re both breathing hard.
We glide off the ice, and as we move to the kiss-and-cry for our scores, I don’t even care to look, but when we’re ranked first, a wave of relief hits me because Dylan smiles. He holds me tight, and for a moment, I want to stay like this. Then he pulls away, and tells me he’ll be right back.
I sit there, unable to stay still. Then I give up and just follow where Dylan walked through the doors. That’s when I see Kian jogging to him, holding his crutches in his hand.What the hell?
“Do you need these?” he asks frantically. “Fuck, man, you’re pale. I winced every time you jumped.”
Dylan mutters something low to him and he nods. But then Kian sees me. From the way he stands, it’s almost like he’s about to run.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn.
They both go completely still.
“Why aren’t you using your crutches? You said you got injured last night,” I ask.
Kian’s eyes widen, then he laughs awkwardly. “It’s a miracle! The Lord has blessed—”
“Stop,” Dylan cuts him off, and finally he turns to me. And Kian’s right. Dylan’s pale, and sweat covers his forehead. He’s never looked like this after a performance.
“What’s wrong?” I ask softly, taking his hands. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m injured,” he finally says. “Last night, it wasn’t Kian who got a sprain. It was me.”
My heart stops.
