Page 52 of Revolve
She roughly pats my cheek like I’m dumb. “That’s what teamwork is for,devushka.”
There it is.
Dylan shifts behind me, letting out a soft sigh as he gazes up at the sky. As if Iwantto be here.
“Kysh!I’ll see you two on Friday,” she says, and climbs into the tow truck. The driver seems to pity us, and I wonder if he’d let us just hold on to his bumper.
“Lidia!” we call in unison, but all it does is make her plastic smile fade into a sharp glare she shoots us through the window, the kind I’ve never dared to mess with.
The pebbly dirt road crunches under the swift speed of the tires, and I watch the red truck drive away with the tiny red car with theFigure Skating Federation of Russiasticker on the rear window. There’s a lot of ways I imagined today going, but being stuck in the middle of nowhere with Dylan Donovan isn’t one of them. The bushes and trees surrounding the area dance in the wind, and I hug myself a little tighter. I forgot to check the weather network today. Dale Thunderman would be so disappointed.
“Now what?” I say, turning to stare up at Dylan, who only gives me a brief sidelong glance before he starts walking. “Hey!”
“What?”
“You don’t even know if this is the right way.”
“Well, since I was the conscious one on the ride, I was actually paying attention to the road.”
Those words keep my mouth shut, and I let Dylan take the lead.
When we’ve walked for what feels like miles, I start to worry that I’ll have to find a dry patch of grass to sleep on tonight. Based on the length of the drive, I’m assuming we’re either in Andover or Georgetown.
Just when I think this trek can’t get any worse, a drop of rain lands with a cold splash on the tip of my nose. My thin leggings and zip-up barely shield me from the biting wind, and now the rain soaks my cold skin.
“This is a nightmare,” I mutter.
Dylan seems to find it amusing, because he chuckles, shaking his head as he quickens his pace. I hurry to keep up with him.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
The caustic tone makes me stop to pull on the sleeve of his hoodie. “Tell me.”
“Don’t,” he replies in that deep, rumbling voice. My hand drops from the hoodie, but for some twisted reason, it only makes me more determined to drag out whatever he’s holding back.
“Don’t pretend to spare my feelings, Dylan. Say what you’re thinking.”
He shakes his head again, and the sardonic smile on his face remains firmly in place. The wind whips around us, and the sun begins its slow descent toward the horizon. Rain-soaked strands of my hair cling to my face, and I’m pretty sure a few leaves have tangled in there too.
“Say it.”
“Sierra,” he warns.
“God, you are insufferable!”
That makes him stop so abruptly that the side of my body collides with his and I stumble back. The dirt from the makeshift path smudges my white shoes—at least, I hope it’s dirt. But I can’t focus on that. The slow turn of the irritated man in front of me suggests I should be scared, but something about his darkening gaze makes me stand straight and hold my chin up. No matter how scathing his glare may be, I won’t let him see me weak.
“Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re the only one on this team we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Me? Are you kidding?” I shout, straining to be heard over the torrential rain that lashes down on us now. “You haven’t done a single thing to make this feel like a partnership.”
“And you have?” he retorts.
“You act like you don’t want to be here, and I’m not in the business of begging people to stay.” Nothing could force me to do that again.
“You’re seeing what you want to see, Sierra,” he says, releasing a frustrated breath. “If I didn’t want to be here, Iwouldn’tbe here.”
