Kiss and Cry

At least Dad and my sisters were coming next week for my event. Until then, Mom would be here on her own, and I could only avoid her so much. She was up in the stands now to watch practice with her pals from the federation.

It was our turn, and my heart leapt as I filed into line to take the ice. Henry was bent at the gate, putting on his guards, his hair falling over his forehead. I hadn’t seen him in person since the airport, and I drank in the lean lines of his legs and narrow hips.

I remembered the secure pressure of his hand over my mouth in the stall, his cock inside me as he gave me what I needed…

The tension in my shoulders eased, and I wished we could escape together for a few minutes. A minute wouldn’t hurt, would it? We could just check in. It made me grin just to look at him again. I’d gotten so used to being near him. I was antsy and scattered without his calm. I’d never missed another person this much.

But when Henry walked past me with the other skaters, his eyes didn’t even flick to me for a second. Which was fine! This was the deal. He was focusing. I couldn’t be mad about that. Now it was my turn.

Too bad I wasn’t doing a good job of it after half the practice time. I was searching for my landings, and I popped my quad toe, which was fucking ridiculous.

I circled the rink, dodging out of Wang Zhan’s way as he finished a killer quad Sal-Euler-triple toe combo. I launched into another quad toe, too impatient again but at least landing it this time and squeaking a decent enough triple on the end. I returned to Manon and Bill by the boards to gulp water.

“That was better,” I said, taking a tissue and blowing my nose.

“Mmm.” Manon didn’t seem impressed.

Bill said, “Don’t be satisfied.”

That had been one of Mr. Webber’s favorite motivational instructions, and a swell of emotion throat punched me. I could barely swallow my sip of water.

“That’s what he told me,” Bill added, giving my shoulder a squeeze-shake. “I didn’t always listen, though.”

“Me either.” I managed a smile. “But I can pull it off when it counts.” Since I was kid, I usually had.

Manon nodded. “Your turn for music. Full run-through.”

Wang Zhan’s short program music finished, and I took my spot. We each had a chance to do a run-through to our music, and some skaters only did bits and pieces of their programs. Kuznetzov never did the whole thing, but I dutifully skated through my program as Sinatra sang “Fly Me to the Moon.”

The judges were here watching, and I put on my most charming smile, making sure to nail the quad combo so they’d forget all about that uncharacteristic pop earlier.

I tried to enjoy it. I’d worked my whole life to be here. I’d sacrificed a normal childhood. It should be fun, shouldn’t it? What was the point if I was stressed and miserable?

If Henry, Kuznetzov, Wang Zhan, and the Japanese champion, Hayato Uchida, all did well in our short programs today, we’d see how the judges stacked us going into our event. The judging panels wouldn’t have the same people on them, so it wasn’t apples to apples, but it was obviously a good indicator.

The scattered people in the stands applauded when I hit my final pose, snapping my fingers with a wink. I visualized doing it again in a few hours in the competition arena with a full house. The Olympic rings decorated center ice below the surface, and I skated over them, trying to enjoy the moment.

And if I thought of Henry and how the arches of his feet were ticklish and when he really smiled his eyes lit up, that was okay too.

Well, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a trial run. I’d lost my concentration on my camel spin and wandered, losing speed and barely able to grind out the last two revolutions. But whatever—I hated spins. My jumps were bangers, and they were way more important.

In the team event, we got our scores in our country boxes with our teammates cheering and waving flags. I hugged them and smiled and made hearts with my hands at the camera. Henry was in first place from earlier, and though I hadn’t seen him skate, I knew from his score that he’d done well. Maybe a little mistake?

They announced my score, and I zoomed ahead of him—but only by three points. The gap had narrowed significantly since he’d added the quad Lutz to his short program this season. The Canadian crowd still cheered for me, and I buzzed with excitement.

I’d been to Worlds plenty of times, but the Olympics really were massive in comparison. I passed under another set of iconic rings as I made my way into the maze of tunnels toward the dressing room.