Only One Bed

I nodded. “It would be the biggest moment of my life.”

“Would it, though? You’ve accomplished so much already. You and Bree are the fifteenth best ice dance team in the whole world. You’ve been on the national podium twice with a silver and a bronze. You’ve won and medaled at a bunch of international competitions.”

I scoffed. “Not on the senior Grand Prix circuit. We’ve only won B competitions and junior stuff.”

“Right, you won the whole Junior Grand Prix Final that one year. That was huge.”

“But it doesn’t matter if we don’t succeed as seniors!” I paced back and forth in the tiny bathroom, my fingers twitching.

“What’s ‘success’ really mean? You’re already more successful than most competitive ice dancers in the world. I grew up around skating. I’ve watched Henry compete for years against other skaters who never won a national senior medal. You have two.”

“Not gold!”

“So, if you win the Canadian title, that will make you successful? If you go to the Olympics and place fifteenth, will that be good enough? Or will the bar go up? There will always be more you can achieve, but why do it if it makes you miserable?”

I stumbled. “Miserable?” It was like my darkest secret was being exposed. Even though it wasn’t a secret, was it?

“Um, yeah? I don’t think you’ve been happy skating in a long time. Definitely not since you and Bree moved to New Jersey. You live so close to New York City, but you’ve barely visited since you have no money or time. Or energy. You escape into video games with me and then every morning you go back to that rink that you hate.”

I could only stare at him. This wasn’t a conversation I was prepared for. But I hadn’t been prepared to have sex with him last night or to come face to face with his family this morning. My life was changing radically. I had to keep pace.

“Maybe I should shut up, but I love you too much not to say this,” Sam blurted, his eyes widening. “There’s no point in hiding it or pretending, right? Not now. I’m saying all this because I love you, and I want you to be happy. Yes, I think you’re miserable. I think you and Bree hate it in New Jersey. You feel like you have to train with the best coach to succeed, even if he barely spends any time with you one-on-one. Even if it’s insanely expensive and you don’t have fun at the rink like you used to.”

I could barely speak. “Is that all?”

“No. I think you made the choice between skating and piano at fourteen when you left home to train with Bree across the country. You don’t think you can do both and succeed. So you picked skating because you did love it. You still do deep down even if it’s making you miserable now. When you played the piano in the lounge, that peace and joy I saw on your face? That’s what skating should be too. Yeah, of course training is hard, and nothing is all good all the time. But you don’t need to try for the Olympics if you don’t really, really actually want to.”

My chest heaved. I saw white spots.

Sam lifted his arms and let them fall. “Okay. Cry or yell at me or I dunno what.”

All I could do was lunge for him, lifting him off his feet as we kissed. He loved me. Not just as a best friend. And he loved me enough to tell me what I had to hear. Sam moaned in relief, opening his mouth for my tongue, and throwing his arms around me.

He was my home and safety and comfort and truth. “I love you,” I gasped against his lips as we stumbled out of the bathroom.

On my back in that perfect bed, I opened for him the way I had in my fantasies. He fucked me tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as we kissed and clutched each other. Had it only been twenty-four hours since the first time?

I supposed that was another truth I had to accept even though it felt like I’d been kissing Sam forever.

Bree teased me about Sam on the walk to the arena and as we laced our skates. She was thankfully having a good concussion day. We were early and alone at the moment, and I laughed along with her as we sat on one of the benches backstage in our stretchy warm-up clothes.

My mind ran over what I had to tell her like I was rehearsing a speech. What I wanted to tell her. What I was terrified to tell her.

I knew she didn’t like it in Hackensack. Still, butterflies flapped in my acidy stomach. Maybe I should wait. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve. We’d only have an afternoon show, and then we could celebrate with Tim and Sam. Was I going to ruin that?