Kiss and Cry

As I sped into my next attempt, I considered trying the triple Axel on the end like Theo had managed. It was very rarely done, and I’d be foolish to risk injuring myself. But I’d land a perfect quad Lutz-triple toe if it killed me.

Again and again, I jumped. Theo noticed, and he said, laughing, “Are we doing a jump off?”

I gave him a curt nod. He rarely missed any, and when he did, he laughed again. Even with the network cameras on him, he was filled with confidence, shaking off mistakes before nailing the jump a minute later.

On my next Lutz attempt, I slipped off the toe pick and fell out of the jump awkwardly, crashing onto my hip and sliding on my back. Before I could even push myself up, Theo was at my side.

“Shit, that was hard. You okay?” He reached for my shoulder.

Launching to my feet, I hissed, “Stop!” without looking back at him. The cameras were rolling! People were watching! Being friendly rivals was one thing. We didn’t need any other speculation as grist for the rumor mill. I skated away, shaking off the fall and returning to Manon and Bill.

We discussed the aborted takeoff, and I tried again. Soon, Theo was off with Janice Harvey for an interview in Bill and Manon’s basement office, the only suitable room in the old complex to set up lights and equipment and speak without background noise.

Most people were gone hours later when Theo followed me out to the car. He’d been unusually quiet the rest of the day, though we’d been on different sessions in the afternoon.

We settled in the Honda, and I waited for him to make a joke or start talking or playfully hit on me even though we’d agreed we should be careful outside the privacy of the condo.

He sat silently as I drove out of the Ice Chalet’s lot, avoiding a pothole. Lots of snow had melted on a warm day around New Year’s, but it was accumulating again now, fat flurries drifting down steadily. I flipped on both the seat warmers.

The elephants trumpeted. A strange tension twanged between us, and I regretted earlier. He’d only been worried about me. The problem was that even hours later, it pleased me too much that he cared.

Before I could apologize, he blurted, “Are you mad?”

“No.”

He looked at me hopefully. “No?”

“No.” I stopped at a red light. “I’m—”

My apology was swallowed quite literally by Theo as he lunged across the gearshift and kissed me, one hand gripping my face. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, my head spinning until the car behind honked. Dazed, I pulled free and stepped on the gas, clearing the intersection and continuing home.

Theo slumped into his seat with a dramatic sigh. “Okay, I’m glad you’re not mad. God, I’ve been dying to kiss you all day. I thought it would never end! Of course Janice asked about training with you, and I tried not to say too much. I mean, I said nice stuff, obviously. About how you’ve inspired me to work harder, which is completely true. I didn’t tell her we’ve been fucking like rabbits, which has been even more inspirational. I’ve consistently gotten up early more than ever in my whole life because getting off with you before practice is the best motivation.”

I snorted. “Not the kind of fluff piece the network is looking for.”

He laughed. “Oh, and did I tell you the federation is up my ass about sewing the V-neck in my red shirt another inch because someone at the network was clutching their pearls? I’m just too sexy in the free skate, I guess. Like it’s nineteen fifty or something. I’m going to lower it instead.”

I shook my head, hiding my smile. “You’re your own worst enemy.”

“I thought that was your job.” He grinned, leaning over to playfully bite my earlobe.

Guilt washed through me, sticky and uncomfortable. I’d resented him so bitterly and unfairly for years. It was hard to believe how quickly he’d proven me wrong in so many ways.

“What?” His left hand caressed my thigh, coming to rest there comfortably.

I wasn’t sure how to phrase it, and Theo opened his mouth to say something else but then waited. I slowed for another red light, the wipers thumping rhythmically, clearing the light snow that fell.

Finally, I said, “I don’t want to be your enemy.”

“I know!” He squeezed my leg. “It’s only skating. It’s not real life.”

I could only stare at him. “Skating is everything. It’s who we are.”

“It’s what we do. Green light.” As I refocused on the road, he added, “Yes, we’re skaters. We skate. It’s our job. But there’s a whole world out there that’s not this crazy bubble. There’s petty bullshit and kissing judges’ asses and all the politics. And we’re supposed to be enemies—sure, okay, whatever.”