I was going to win. I’d likely come second in the short program, but that was to be expected. I would beat him in the free skate. This was what I should have been focusing on all these months instead of letting myself be distracted. I’d let down my guard at the pivotal moment, but it wasn’t too late.
I would achieve this goal. Nothing or no one else mattered.
Manon caught my eye with a little wave and raised eyebrow. She was wearing her stylish designer best. Her gold earrings were shimmering jeweled feathers, her black pantsuit was tailored perfectly, and rich red lipstick complemented her dark skin.
I realized I’d stopped using the massage gun, but it still vibrated in my grasp. I switched it off and nodded to Manon before I closed my eyes and visualized my perfect short program.
Exactly on schedule, I changed into my costume for the six-minute warm-up. We gathered at the entrance to the ice, bouncing and fidgeting and shaking like a pack of sequined racehorses in the starting gate.
I could sense Theo behind me, which sounded unnecessarily dramatic given that’s where he obviously was since he wasn’t one of the skaters in front.
I didn’t let myself look.
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I refused to think about Theo and his beautiful, pleading eyes. This was the moment. My moment. My heart thudded as the attendant swung open the gate in the boards.
We surged, and I bent to remove my skate guards—left, then right, as always. I handed them to Manon and stroked across the ice over the Olympic rings, wind brushing my face, the audience chatter and pop music playing over the speakers blending into a buzz of background noise.
After precisely three laps of the rink, I performed an easy double Axel, ducking and weaving with the five other skaters as I did another lap. Theo’s glittering gold shirt was easy to spot from the corner of my eye, but as we passed each other, it didn’t matter who he was. This was go time. Even if he cared enough to understand me, even if he—
He’s no one. He’s not even here. He doesn’t matter.
I launched into a quad toe with the lies filling my mind, much of the home crowd applauding my textbook landing. With a burst of adrenaline, I stroked around the corner and sped backward.
I registered the swell of audience noise just before I turned into my difficult one-foot transition to my triple Axel—
Massimo Musetti faced me in the same moment, a blur of orange as he lunged to the side. My stomach met his hip, and I flew, skates airborne as I sailed over him. My hands smacked the ice, shoulder impacting a moment later.
My cheek slid along the slick surface as momentum spun me before I pushed right to my feet. I was a few steps from Massimo, who blinked up at me, stunned, as I reached down to pull him up.
Through the haze of adrenaline and shock, I nodded to him, both of us apologizing. A hand settled on my lower back, wonderfully familiar and comforting. I caught a whiff of Theo’s faintly vanilla body wash, which I hadn’t realized I’d missed.
His pinched face hovered in my peripheral vision. Theo and Massimo were both speaking, but my ears buzzed loudly. Had I hit my head? I didn’t think so—just the graze on my cheek. I circled my shoulder. Nothing broken. Joint still in place.
“I’m fine.” My voice sounded distant.
Nodding, Massimo skated toward his coaches at the boards. I wasn’t sure which of us was at fault, but it didn’t matter. These collisions happened sometimes.
Theo’s hand was still warm and grounding on my lower back, and I allowed myself another heartbeat of that closeness before skating away even though Theo was talking to me. The warm-up was ticking down. I had to shake this off.
He’s no one. He’s not even here. He doesn’t matter.
Still lies, but I repeated the mantra with each lap of the rink. Making doubly sure the path was clear, I launched into my quad Lutz. The audience thundered with applause now, all eyes apparently on me after the collision. I could do this. My shoulder throbbed, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.
A strange calm shrouded me as the warm-up ended. I nodded to everyone who expressed concern, letting Manon whisk me to the medics. Bill appeared at one point, and I assured them not to worry.
They texted my mom in the stands to let them know I was okay, and I smiled to think of how Sam would likely tease me about being a drama queen after all. Obaachan would pinch me and say to watch where I was going. Then she’d yank me down for a hug.
In Toronto, Ojiichan was watching on TV. I asked Manon to remind my parents to call the facility and make sure he knew I was all right. Surely my parents already had, but just in case.