Page 40 of Revolve
“Arms relaxed. Relaxed! I saidrelaxed!”
Her final shout is laced with pure frustration, the anger in her voice sharper. But her irritation doesn’t even come close to the one simmering beneath my skin. My chest heaves with each ragged breath, and my zip-up clings to me, soaked with sweat. I already know my abdomen’s going to be a patchwork of bruises by tomorrow.
The intensity of his eyes bore into mine like beams of sunlight, and even the burning sensation can’t make me look away. Lidia shouts out a series of moves—hip, cradle, hand to hand. We do them, all of them. Dylan’s hands are firm on my waist, sliding all over my body when he lifts me on his hip and we spin. His rhythm is perfect; he moves like water. There’s a kindling somewhere low in my stomach that I ignore when he lifts me just slightly over his head. I expect my heart to race, or stop, or my breathing to become shallow, but instead I feel normal.
“How did that feel, Sierra?” Lidia asks. She looks much happier than before.
I feel like a child, but I understand her concern. “Comfortable.” And suffocating. The dichotomy makes my head spin.
The moves are simple, and I know Lidia’s not pushing me into any real lifts, but we won’t win anything this way. Judges don’t respond well to safe performances.
“Again,” Lidia shouts. “Watch each other. Stay in sync.”
Her words muffle in my ears when the music restarts, and Dylan’s hands slide down my body—from my face, down to the curve of my neck, over my arms, where his thumb brushes the side of my breasts. My breath hitches, and my gaze springs away from his.
“Eyes on me, Sierra,” he reprimands.
Everything feels hot and dangerous. Having to look into Dylan’s eyes only makes it all the more intense. Each of his long fingerspresses over the fabric of my half-zip down to my waist, where the hem rises, exposing a sliver of skin on my back, and lower, until he rests his palm on my hip. There’s a hot flush that travels with the touch, and I can’t seem to look away from his gaze pinning me right there, unwavering.
All I hear, all Ifeel, is my heart thrumming below the surface of my electrified skin. The room is stuffy as Lidia corrects our stance, forcing us closer than before, placing our hands in each other’s.
This time, when Dylan sets me down, I trip over his foot and fall face-first. Yup, the mats still taste the same.
“Thanks a lot, butterfingers,” I mutter.
“You fell all on your own,” Dylan retorts. “Probably because you’re so stiff.”
I grit my teeth. “Your hold is too loose. You would never be able to lift me for long enough on the ice.”
Coach nods, staring at the mats for what feels like an eternity. “Good. Constructive criticism is good.” That sentence alone tells me it isnotin factgood. “But those are small problems. Problems that partners work through because they trust each other.”
Dylan scoffs, and my head snaps in his direction. It irritates me even more.
His wavy brown hair falls perfectly over his forehead, and he’s not even sweating—like tossing me around for the past hour is just part of his morning routine. Meanwhile, I’m drenched, muscles burning, and all I can think is how effortless he makes everything look. It’s infuriating.
“Dylan, put your hands on her waist, and, Sierra, press into his shoulders as he lifts you. You need to focus on control and eye contact—” Lidia’s phone rings. “I need to take this. Don’t kill each other.”
My eyes dart to the door, and I sigh. “I’ll be in control.”
“Just how I like it,” Dylan says.
I ignore him, purposely avoiding eye contact. When his hands bracket my abdomen, my stomach is sore, but I don’t complain.
“Lidia specifically said we have to maintain eye contact. Why can’t you look at me?” Dylan asks suddenly, breaking the silence.
“I am,” I reply, keeping my tone flat.
“You’re looking through me, not at me.”
My chest tightens as I force my gaze up to meet his. “Happy?”
His eyes flicker over my face, lingering on my lips, tracing the curve of my cheeks. “Extremely.”
“Can we just get this over with?”
“Are you sure? That means you’ll have to keep looking at me. I don’t want to put you out, Sierra. Maybe I should put a bag over my head.”
My lips twitch. “Please do. That would solve half my problems.”
