Ivan gave my fingers a hard squeeze.
And I squeezed his as hard as I could right back.
Chapter 5
I’d forgotten how much it hurt to get dropped.
“Are you all right?” came Coach Lee’s voice from… somewhere.
I had my eyes closed as I lay there, thankful for the fact that someone had decided at some point in history that the world needed cushioned mats. Because if it weren’t for cushioned mats—even if they were only an inch thick—I probably would have broken three times as many bones as I had in my life.
But still.
Fuck.
I tried to take a breath, but from the sting of it, my lungs were still in shock from Ivan’s hands slipping—or whatever the fuck had happened—resulting in me falling from close to eight or nine feet in the air and landing right on my goddamn back.
Fuck.
“I’m fine,” I half whispered, half wheezed out, trying to take another inhale but only being able to take a baby-sized one that wasn’t anywhere near enough.
Gulping, I tried to take another breath and only managed half of one before my spine went “Not yet, sucker.” Dragging my bare heels across the mats, I planted my feet on the floor and attempted to take another breath, a little more successful that time. The good thing was: my ribs weren’t broken. The other good thing was: at least he’d dropped me on here and not the ice, which felt like the equivalent of cement when you hit it.
I swallowed again, took another breath, and when that went well, I reminded myself this was nothing. Not really, at least.
I opened my eyes and immediately spotted the big hand that had held me high above the floor—the big hand that had wobbled and dropped me—extended in my direction.
For a second, I thought about taking the hand offering me help, but then remembered the other time he’d done the same thing. I shook my head and rolled up onto my butt on my own. “I’m fine,” I muttered, only wincing with my entire face as I did it.
“You need a minute?” Coach Lee asked from her spot off the mats as I shifted onto my knees and slowly climbed up onto my feet, taking a couple more breaths that only slightly made my back ache. I was going to feel it tomorrow for sure.
“I’m fine. Let’s do it again.” I waved her off as I tipped my head back and took another breath to catch the one the fall had taken from me. When my breathing was back under control and I was ready to go, I turned to face my brand-new partner of all of four hours.
Four hours.
We’d spent that morning doing basics, and I meant the most basic of basics. I hadn’t slept well the night before, mostly because of the anticipation of what was coming the next morning—our first practice—but when I woke up, I’d been ready.
When we’d met up beside the rink at four in the morning, I’d already had a black L on the top of my left hand and a red R on my right hand; I’d warmed up on my own and so had he. Coach Lee had started us off skating laps side by side… for hours. All to find our rhythm together. His legs were longer than mine, but we both listened to Coach Lee’s corrections, kept our mouths shut, and it had worked out. I didn’t even think we looked at each other’s faces, we were so busy focusing on our feet… and only a couple of times did I have to glance at my hands.
And when she’d told us to hold hands and do it all over again, we did it. Then we just did it over and over again, holding hands and not holding hands until we got it right. Baby steps, but they were important. These were all things we should have figured out if we’d done a tryout.
So when we got to the rink that afternoon after I’d gone to work—and explained to my boss that I was going to have to work less hours from here on out—Coach Lee had told us we’d start off working on lifts on the mats, I’d been pretty pumped to move forward a little more.
At least until his hold got weird as he had me in a carry lift—his hands on the spot between my lower stomach and right above my groin, his arms locked straight above his six-foot-two head, while I had my legs together and extended, back arched and head held high. I’d done it a thousand times before with my ex-partner.
But just like I’d forgotten how much it hurt to fall, I forgot how every lifting partner had a different way they liked to hold. Or so I’d been told. I had only had one partner in my short and shit pairs career.
Maybe I weighed more than Ivan’s last partner.
“Let me see where you’re putting your hands, Ivan,” Coach Lee called out. “Then push up as slow as you can do it, so I can see Jasmine’s movement too.”
Nodding, I made myself look up at Ivan after I got into position directly in front of him. In his fitted and tapered gray sweatpants and a T-shirt so white it might have been brand new, his hair was combed and parted in that perfect way it always was, he looked more like he was about to do a modeling shoot for sweatpants than to actually work out.
With his chin to his throat, he looked down at me with those almost clear gray-blue eyes and nodded at me like “let’s do it.” We hadn’t said anything to each other so far. We hadn’t even mouthed anything either.
Yet.
I dropped my chin to my throat too, to tell him “let’s do it.” So we did. His hands went into position in a place that I hadn’t let very many guys touch me, and we went into it.
I knew the second he had me at about his head level that something was wrong, and I needed to figure out what it was.
“What is it?” Coach Lee asked, like she read my mind.
“His palm is weird,” I told her immediately, trying not to squirm too much before I ended up on the floor again.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Ivan claimed from under me, sounding just as insulted as I figured he would.
I rolled my eyes. I had promised I wouldn’t talk shit, that didn’t mean I couldn’t roll my eyes, especially not when he couldn’t see me.
“I don’t know what it is. I think his hands are bigger—” I started to tell Coach Lee before the man under me made a snickering sound that had me rolling my eyes again. “It feels strange.” The lift went as high as it could possibly go, and I was in the same position I’d been in when he’d let me fall. I sucked in my stomach and grit my teeth, tensing my biceps as I tried to move the weight around a little on my palms and fingers. I could do this.
“I know what I’m doing,” came the idiot under me.
“I’ll get used to it,” I told Coach Lee, pretending like I didn’t hear Ivan.
“Put her down and do it again,” the other woman said.
And Ivan did, lowering me to the ground a lot faster and not as carefully as he could have. Fucker. I glared up at him, but he was too busy looking at Coach Lee to notice.
We did it again.
Again and again and again.
That was all we did for the next three hours, the entrance into the lift one time after another and after another, until it stopped feeling so different… and my arms—and Ivan’s—were shaking with exhaustion. My shoulders were sore, and I couldn’t imagine what his had to feel like. But neither one of us complained or asked for a break.
By the time four o’clock rolled around, ab muscles I’d forgotten I had were exhausted, and I was 90 percent sure I’d have a giant bruise on my stomach the next day.
“One more time and we’ll call it a day,” Coach said from the spot she’d taken sitting cross-legged on the mat a few feet away from the circle of space Ivan and I had been working in. We hadn’t even gotten to the point where he was walking with me over his head yet; we were still just doing the same lift.
I didn’t look up as I took a step back before leaning forward at the same time Ivan’s hands went into position. And he raised me, a little more swiftly even though I knew he had to be tired, a little easier and consistent. It lasted all of twenty seconds before I was back on my feet, biting back a grimace at the ache coming from my abs. I was going to need to apply the arnica ointment in my bag the second after I showered so I wouldn’t be dying tomorrow.
“Ice your stomach tonight, Jasmine. We can’t afford you being in pain,” Coach Lee called out almost immediately after I landed on both feet. I looked at her and gave a nod. “Good work today.”
Was it? Part of me thought it would have gone better, or at least faster, but it wasn’t like I had anything or anyone else to compare to. I wasn’t going to let myself get overwhelmed. One step at a time. I knew that. One small step at a time, to build another step and another until we had an entire staircase.
“Rest, ice what you need to ice, and I’ll see you both tomorrow,” the other woman called out. I already knew from experience that she had her younger figure skaters she usually focused on once Ivan’s season was done. I watched her as she turned around and then was gone.
Okay.