He grinned, and winked and maybe he knew exactly who he was talking to.
“Good luck out there,” he whispered as he went to corral his sister.
I felt my cheeks grow hotter, and the anxiety butterflies that always filled my stomach before events, turned into a different kind. I ducked my chin, and tried like hell to get the goofy grin forming, to chill out.
I waswithAsher.
IlovedAsher.
Asher wasmy future.
We werepartners.
Little things had started to bother me. Not in any big way, but in tiny, minuscule ways, and I’d gotten pretty good at brushing them off as my own stress.
I felt Asher sidle up next to me, his arms coming around me, holding me against him. His nearness bathed me in warmth—the tiny movements of his body, the sounds of his breathing—all as familiar to me as my own.
I sucked in another deep breath.
The four am wake up calls to hit the rink before school, the after school sessions and eight hour weekend sessions—everything I willingly gave up and sacrificed for years had led to this. The bumps, the bruises, the hurt and pain and freezing ice baths—all of it. Skating was my life, and it all was culminating in this performance…in this final qualifier.
The butterflies that had been fluttering giddily moments ago, turned to angry wasps in my stomach.
Asher—knowing the movements of my body—squeezed me and pressed his lips to the side of my head. My hands reached up and held onto him. Whenever the panic and anxiety started to get bad—he sensed it and he would ground me, quelling all the noise in my head. The warmth of his skin against mine thawed the frigid air that was slowly freezing me to my core. I let my eyes fall shut, and let myself lean into him. Focusing on the pressure of his arms wrapped around me, the feel of his cheek against the side of my head—just the overall feel of him holding me. I drew in a deep breath, and his usual mint was accompanied by something… floral and citrus. It was one of those minuscule things that had started bothering me.
The fruity scent that sometimes mingled with his normal fresh and minty smell. It felt familiar, but I never could really place it. I took another deep breath, working to center myself, and opened my eyes.
Asher pulled his arms from around me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders where he gave them a quick squeeze and a little shake. I laughed as he exaggerated the move, making me wobble on my feet.
“Better?”
I nodded and stared out at the forming crowds in the stands, the commentators finding their seats—all the thoughts and worries, they didn’t matter.
This was it. This was the last competition before the IOC—The International Olympic Committee—announced who would officially be on the U.S. Olympic Team for the next Winter Games. If Asher and I skated as cleanly as we had been all season and during practices, then we’d make the team—it was practically guaranteed. There was no other choice. I had no backup plans. I’d already pulled my admission from Willow Creek University—putting my degree on hold for the time being.
Our goal—mygoal—had always been to become an Olympian.
To put my skates on Olympic ice and medal.
To make every single early morning, late night, missed party and long weekend worth it.
I’d sacrificed a social life through high school and most of college to be here—to be this close to qualifying and be part of the less than one percent of U.S. athletes that make it to the Olympics.
Even before Asher came into my life and became my partner, my friend and then more—being an Olympian had always been the dream. I’d grown up watching the greats, and I decided I wanted what they had.Badly.
So, I spun in his hold and focused on him and what we were here to do. It was Asher and I against the world. Wewouldnail this program, we’d place, medal and get the call that we’d made the next Winter Olympics’ US Team. We had enough cumulative points from all the other qualifiers that we should be a shoe in even if we didn’t skate our best, but if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that nothing is truly ever guaranteed. We needed to get on the podium.
Our eyes met, and Asher gave me his cheeky grin, and I found myself smiling back. For years this had been our goal—everything we’d been working towards together. And it was so close, finally within our grasp.
One performance.
A handful of lifts.
A couple of throws.
And then we’d be Olympians.
Everything we’d been working towards for the last eight years was waiting on that ice, and all we had to do was skate. Then we’d be able to breathe, and shift our focus to the next big thing, and we’d get to celebrate together—in a way we had neverdone before. The butterflies were back, but they were from the same kind of nerves, but from good ones—anticipatoryones. The panic and fear had quickly dissipated when my gaze locked onto Asher’s green eyes.
