Page 19 of Revolve
“It got me more girls.” He watches each of my reactions like he’sstudying them. “What about you? Or do you just say you’re a skater so you can creep inside the arena and watch people from behind the bleachers?”
I realize then this might be the first real conversation we’ve had. Even if he just made me out to be a stalker. “My parents were professional figure skaters. I was practically born to do it.”
“Did you want to?”
The question feels oddly invasive, and I grapple with the fact that no one has ever asked me that. I don’t think anyone has ever cared to know if I wanted to dedicate my life to the ice. There’s a wave of something that makes my stomach tighten, but I nod, because I’ve yearned to skate. It’s only now that I question whether I can.
I glide away from him to warm up with some walleys. But it’s hard to focus when he’s flaunting his abilities like a fucking peacock.
It must be the bitter competitor in me, because watching him easily do moves I once did pushes me harder. By some miracle, I land my first double and yelp in surprise.Holy shit.
In skating it’s good to end on a high note. But I always push myself until I can’t. “Back to Black” by Amy Winehouse plays from my phone. I start the routine I did for a Fire & Ice invitational back when I was in singles. “‘Dark, moody, and art on ice’” they called it, and even now I transform into someone else. A sloppier version, butsomeone else.
I push into a spin at center ice, dropping into a sit spin as the burn from three back-to-back—not-too-bad—axels lingers in my legs. My breath is ragged, but there’s a glow in my chest. Pride, maybe. I press my lips together, refusing to let it out.That wasn’t impressive.
“Impressive,” Dylan calls then lands another Lutz.Damn show-off.
“You should probably work on that. Still sloppy,” I needle.
When he smiles this time, it’s cocky as hell. “Think you can keep up with me, firefly?”
I raise a brow at the nickname. “Are you trying to goad me into skating with you? I’m not that easy.”
“Oh, I know, but I’ve always had a thing for a challenge.”
“I’m not giving in to whatever kink you’re trying to satisfy.”
He smirks, leaning in slightly. “You in those tights is doing a lot for me already.”
When I push away, he follows me. We’re face-to-face as he glides forward while I glide backward. “Does this puppy dog thing work for you, or are you trying something new?”
“Trying something new,” he replies.
“Donovan!” someone barks before I can get another word out.
I glance to the sidelines, where our sports director wears an angry expression. Dylan curses under his breath.
“No after-hours skating, Ms. Romanova. But I’ll let it slide this time since it’s a new rule,” he warns.
“Sorry,” I call sheepishly, gliding off the ice while Dylan reluctantly heads to Alan Reed.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but the tension is high. They argue, and then Dylan’s expression goes entirely blank before he steps through the gate. With a satisfied look, our sports director follows him out.
For the first time, I actually feel bad for him. I know what it’s like not to be on the ice. It’s pure torture when you’ve grown up loving it, and having your body stop you, or being told you can’t, is even worse.
NINE
DYLAN
HOW MUCH MOREshit would I get in if I egged the sports director’s car?
The hard-ass was patrolling the rink, so when he saw me on it, he was standing by the boards with that stick up his ass. Usually Kilner’s the one enforcing the rules, but when he saw me walk past his office, he didn’t say anything. I’m not sure whether he was letting me off the hook or he’s pissed because I’ve got him working overtime to figure out the suspension.
The other thing I can’t seem to get off my mind is Sierra. Any other scenario, and we’d be in the back seat of my car in five seconds flat. But she looks at me like she wants me dead. It’s kind of fucked up how much that turns me on. She’s damn stubborn, and so full of attitude, but then underneath the bleachers her emerald eyes cracked, and there it was, a single tear. She was looking at a couple, skaters too, and the look on her face nearly made me go chase the guy down to see why this seemingly ice-cold girl was crying over him.
I saw her skate. It was different from the first time I saw her on the ice. Her hair was slicked back, her clothes tight except for thefluttery skirt, and she was faster than ever. Sierra’s blade dug into the ice, sharp, vicious. She didn’t land the triple Lutz she attempted, but she managed a shallow axel. That pain still seemed to linger in her red-rimmed eyes, but she was determined, vengeful, and a little scary. It was fucking hot.
Suddenly, a hard metal from a chunk of keys hits me square in the abdomen. I’m still sore from the gym, because getting kicked off the rink only twenty minutes in wasn’t enough cardio. Kian comes to stand in front of the TV after assaulting me with his car keys.
