Page 95 of Revolve
She nods. “Guess so. I’ll even call you Captain from my rinkside seats.”
I deadpan, tackling her onto my bed. Sierra bursts into laughter. I squeeze her sides until she begs me to stop. When I finally do, we’re both breathing hard, inches apart. I want to kiss her.
But I won’t get her sick. And I know if I kiss her, I won’t be able to stop. So, instead of feeling her lips against mine, I press a kiss to her forehead.
We sit up again, and the air grows awkward. But then, Sierra straightens, like she’s just decided on something. “Well, get better. Lidia’s not going to show mercy when you’re back,” she says. “See you on the ice, partner.”
Then she’s gone so fast, I’m left blinking in her absence
My cold feels worse by the time I drag myself out of bed to drinkwater. I’m in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I don’t answer it, but everyone in the house seems to have the same intention.
Wrapped in my blanket, shuffling to the door in Kian’sFreudian slipslippers, I open the door to no one. Better not be those damn kids playing Ding-Dong Ditch. Kian and I will have to scare them again.
As I start to close it, a black car speeding off catches my eye. My gaze drops to a white bag on the step. I bring it inside and extract a container of chicken noodle soup with a note taped to it with neat handwriting.
It’s from a can. Don’t flatter yourself.
I bark out a laugh, and when I’m about to put aside the brown bag, I notice something else inside. It’s a scarf.
This one’s from scratch. Made it with my feet. ;)
Instantly, I pull out my phone to text her.
Dylan:Not at all flattered. Thank you for the care package.
Sierra:No idea what you’re talking about. Time to get that brain checked grandpa.
Then, two whole minutes later:
Sierra:You’re welcome.
THIRTY-FOUR
SIERRA
“OKAY, NOW DOit,” Scarlett says.
She’s sitting on my suitcase as I try to pinch the zipper closed. She scrolls through her phone and reads off the names of all the pair skaters attending the competition. We’re headed to Lake Placid for the Senior B competition.
Even with all my energy on zipping my overstuffed suitcase, my thoughts trail off. I can still feel the phantom movements of Dylan’s tongue on my clit. The sound of the gasp that left me when he slipped inside me. It all felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Then when the morning light slipped through the curtains, I watched him sleep. So calm and angelic—completely opposite to the very non-angelic things he did to me just hours earlier.
I feel renewed and somehow more like myself. It’s as though I hadn’t known I’ve been trapped in the ivory tower of my own making. It’s when Dylan came along and broke me out that I realized how much I miss out on because of my thoughts. For some reason, the way he kissed me made it feel like I broke a shackle.
“These skaters have to be part-time models. Look at the Russian team.” Scarlett shoves her phone in my face. The couple were aheadof Justin and me at the Olympics and completed their long program to perfection. I wasn’t worried, but the moment I felt the loss of Justin’s hand in mine, I knew we’d lost it.
They won gold. I won a lifetime of pain.
Scarlett seems to realize that a little too late but still tosses her phone on the bed like it never happened. “So, what did you pack in here? Bricks to toss at the other skaters?”
With one final tug, the suitcase closes, and I slump beside it in relief. Scarlett stands and tries to lift it but fails miserably. She chooses to strengthen her mind muscle rather than any of the ones on her arms. “We’re gone for two nights. Lidia said to pack everything I’ll need.”
Her brows quirk. “You need knitting needles and yarn?”
“Knitting helps me relax.”
“You and my grandmother would be great friends.” Scarlett pauses. “If she were alive.”
“You weren’t complaining when I knit you that cardigan.”
