“They’d try,” he countered, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
There was something wrong with us.
And I didn’t hate it. Not even a little bit.
Chapter 14
“What’s wrong with you?” Ivan snapped about five seconds after coming out of a sit spin—the same sit spin I’d stumbled out of a second before, landing right on my ass. The same one I’d kept losing my balance on the last six times we’d done it. The same spin I could usually do over and over and over again, one variation after another, a flying sit spin, a death drop, with a twist.... It was usually no big deal.
Unless your entire body was burning up, every muscle between your knees and chin ached, and your head felt like it was about to explode.
On top of that, my throat was acting like I’d chewed on sandpaper, and just standing up in general was taking everything out of me.
I felt like shit.
Total, complete shit. I had all morning. I was pretty sure I’d woken up in the middle of the night—which I never did—because my head hurt and my throat had burned like I’d swallowed a glass of lava for shits and giggles.
But I hadn’t told Ivan or Lee about it.
With only one full day left before we started working on choreography, we didn’t have time for me to be sick. Since the morning of the day Ivan and I had watched Ruby’s kids, one thing after another had started acting up. My throat had started tingling, then tingling a little more. Another day my head began to feel weird. Then I started to get tired. Then everything started to ache, until bam. The fever came. And everything else decided to go full-fledged sick.
Ugh.
Flopping onto my back, the groan that came out of me was thanks to how bad my head was pounding. I couldn’t remember the last time my balance had been so bad. Never?
“Are you hung over?” Ivan asked from wherever the hell he was.
I started to shake my head and immediately regretted it when the urge to throw up kicked me right in the gut. “No.”
“You stayed up last night, didn’t you?” he accused, the quiet swish of his blades on the ice telling me he was getting closer. “You can’t be coming to practice exhausted.”
Rolling over and then coming to my knees, all I had the energy to do was wiggle the fingers on one hand. “I didn’t stay up, jackass.”
He huffed, the black of his boots coming into view. “You’re full of—” I saw his hand reaching for my upper arms too late. So late there was no way, no fucking way based on how shitty I felt, that I could have moved before he touched me. His hands grabbed me right above the elbows and just as quickly let them go.
I’d been so hot, I had taken off the pullover I had on over my tank top over an hour ago, leaving my arms exposed. If I could have stripped that off too, I would have.
Ivan’s hands went to my forearms, gripped them for a second, and let them go too.
“Jasmine, what the fuck?” he hissed, his palms going to my cheeks as I just waited there on my hands and knees because I had no energy left. If I could have laid down on the ice in a fetal position, I would have. He cupped my face for a moment, then moved his other hand upward to cover my forehead, cursing so creatively under his breath in Russian, I would’ve been impressed any other day. “You’re burning up.”
I groaned at the coolness of his hands on me and whispered, “No shit?”
He ignored my smart-ass comment and palmed the back of my neck, earning him a moan straight out of my mouth. Jesus, it felt good. Maybe I could lay on the ice for a minute.
“She’s got a fever?” I faintly heard Coach Lee ask as I started lowering myself slowly down, hands to elbows, then elbows going wide until I was sprawled spread eagle on the ice, my cheek on it, arms and palms flat on it too.
It was cold as hell, but it felt amazing.
I could hear Ivan talking to Lee, their words becoming fainter and fainter by the second.
“Give me a minute,” I said as loudly as I could, feeling the coldness on my lips and seriously feeling tempted to lick it.
I didn’t. I wasn’t sick enough to forget how dirty some people’s blades were.
I heard something that sounded like “stubborn” above.
Turning my face to the other side, I let the cold kiss my cheek and sighed. A nap sounded so good. Right here. Right now.
“Never mind, five minutes please,” I whispered numbly, trying to reach back toward my neck with one of my hands but too tired to even do that.
“Okay, all right, roll over, Jasmine,” a feminine voice I was pretty sure belonged to Coach Lee said from somewhere over my head.
“No.”
Three minutes. If I could just close my eyes for three minutes….
There was a sigh and then something that had to be fingers at one of my shoulders, pulling and yanking on me. I didn’t fight it. I didn’t move. But somehow, they rolled me over, and I just let them, flopping over almost painfully until I was on my back with the bright lights at the ceiling forcing me to close my eyes because they made my head worse. I had to grit my teeth to keep from moaning.
“Two minutes, please,” I whispered, licking my lips.
“Two minutes my ass,” Ivan replied a moment before something started forcing my shoulder upward, tunneling its way across and under my shoulder blades at the same time something else went beneath the backs of my knees, doing the same.
“Just a minute. Come on. I’ll get up, promise,” I got out as I felt myself being lifted. It wasn’t like I could see. I still had my eyes closed and probably would until the lights weren’t blinding me.
“I know there’s a thermometer in the staff room,” it sounded like Coach Lee said. “I’ll get it.”
“Meet you in my room,” I heard Ivan respond, drawing me off the ice and into his chest.
Oh God. He was carrying me.
“Put me down. I’m fine,” I croaked, feeling anything but fucking fine as a shiver raced across my arms and spine, making me shake.
“No,” was the one and only thing that came out of his mouth.
“I am. I can get through practice….” I trailed off, squeezing my eyes closed as my headache got worse and the urge to throw up did too. “Fuck, Ivan. Put me down. I’m going to throw up.”
“You’re not going to throw up,” he said, carrying me and skating at the same time from the movements of my side against his chest.
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I don’t want to throw up on you,” I gasped, this fucking close to gagging as acid flowed around in my stomach.
“I don’t care if you do, but I’m not putting you down. Suck it up or swallow it, Meatball,” he said with all the comfort and care of my mom. Which was none.
My head throbbed. “I’m going—”
“You’re not. Hold it in,” this man—my partner—demanded, rocking me against him as he started walking and not skating.
“I’ll feel better if I throw up,” I whispered, the sound of my own voice irritating me. My throat irritating me even more. But I couldn’t be sick. We didn’t have time. “Let me, then we can get back to practice. I can take a Tylenol—”
“We’re not practicing anymore today,” he let me know in that annoying snobby voice. “Or tomorrow.”
That had me groaning as I tried to lift my head, which was against his shoulder, and realized I couldn’t even do that. I was gone. Jesus Christ. “We have to.”
“No, we don’t.”
I swallowed and licked my dry lips, but it didn’t do anything. “We can’t take time off.”
“Yes, we can.”
“Ivan.”
“Jasmine.”
“Ivan,” I basically moaned, not in the mood for this shit. My shit or his.
“We’re not practicing anymore, so stop bringing it up.”
We only had a day left. Choreography was supposed to start tomorrow. I started trying to roll up, engaging ab muscles that had decided to take a vacation, and… couldn’t. Oh my God, I couldn’t do shit.
Ivan sighed. “I’ll put you down in a minute. Quit squirming,” he ordered, still carrying me, still walking effortlessly, his breathing steady and even as he held me up in his arms.
I was going to blame being dizzy and exhausted on why I did what he said. And why I let my head rest against that curve between his shoulder and neck. I didn’t need to wrap my arms around his neck. There was no chance in hell he would drop me. This was nothing for him.
“Is your mom at work?” Ivan asked me quietly a moment later.
“No, she—she went on vacation with Ben to Hawaii,” I replied, weakly, just faintly taking in how quickly I’d gone downhill. Another shiver slid through my whole body, and I shook even harder than I had any time before. Damn it. “I’m sorry, Ivan.”
“For what?” he asked, tipping his head down to look at me from the way I felt his breath on my cheek.
I pressed my forehead against his cool neck and let out my own breath, dismissing the lines between his brows as aggravation, just noticing my shivering was going nonstop. “For getting sick. It’s my fault. I never get sick.” Another hard case of the shakes went straight from my shoulders down my spine.