He grabbed my hands and interlaced our fingers. His palms were warm against mine, his grip firm and comforting. He brought the backs of my hands up to his mouth, pressing kisses into both. He did this before every performance—a little ritual he claimed he had to do for us to skate well.
“We’ve got this Aimes,” he said, quietly enough that only I could hear him.
“We do,” I breathed back.
He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against mine, and I looked at him cross-eyed and he chuckled before we both shut our eyes. We stood there for a moment, breathing…centering, before he let go of my hands. My eyes opened as I felt his hands cradle the sides of my face and he kissed me.
I grinned against his lips before kissing him back, letting my body melt against his. I fought the urge to tangle my fingers in his soft, golden hair. I loved the feeling of the strands between my fingers and I knew he liked the scrape of my nails on his scalp, but I didn’t want to mess up the artful styling he had going on for the performance.
Eight months I’d nailed a particularly difficult skill, and Asher had surprised me by rushing onto the ice and kissing me. I’d been stunned, only for him to lean in and do it again—for longer and deeper, utterly sweeping me off my feet.
“Do you mean to tell me that I could have been kissing my best friend for months now?” he asked.
I laughed, leaning into him.
His hands moved from my face, to brace on my waist as he grinned down at me. Even in my skates, he still towered over me.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He brushed a stray piece of hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear.
“Honestly? I wasn’t sure you felt entirely the same. You hid it well,” I said, my voice soft.
“Well, consider me an idiot.”
He’d kissed me again and again that day, until Brennan yelled at us to get back to practice. Then, Brennan took our new found chemistry and ran with it on the ice—altering our programs to be more romantic and difficult. He created programs that came across like poetry and magic and all the things people yearned for. Asher and I started medaling more often than not. Our performance grew cleaner, more dramatic and according to some‘magically endearing and wholly captivating’. Spectators loved us, the crowds adored us — and an online fanbase thatshipped us.
It wasn’t overnight, but in some ways, it felt like with that first kiss, the world changed. Somehow, Brennan knew exactly what he was doing when he’d paired us together nearly a decade ago. He saw something in the two of us, and without him, we wouldn’t be where we are now.
“We’re going to rock this. You’re going to land the quad, and we’re going to the next Winter Olympics. You and me.”
He gently smoothed his hands over my hair, and I knew the lights reflected off the sheer amount of gel I’d used to keep my wavy strawberry blonde hair in place.
“We’re going to nail the jump and we’re going to medal. We’ve got this,” he said again.
I nodded and swallowed.
The quad.
Only a handful of female skaters had ever successfully landed it and only one has done so on the Olympic Stage. It was a risk—one that I was a little hesitant to pull off. Asher and I had doneit successfully in practice several times, but the pressure was higher now. And it was too late to pull it from the performance without risk of a deduction.
The butterflies were turning into angry swarming hornets again, and the terror must’ve flashed in my eyes, because Asher was pulling me against his chest. My arms locked around his waist. I just needed another minute. The waiting was truly my worst enemy. It made the voices loud.
He gave me a squeeze, pressed another kiss to the top of my head and leaned back. He reached up and pressed his finger to the crinkle between my brows. “None of that. We’re going to be amazing. We’re going to nail every move and wow the judges.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, and gave him a smile that I wasn’t sure was entirely convincing and took a deep breath. His gaze searched mine, looking for the confidence he knew was hiding behind the stress and anxiety and making sure I wasn’t still lost in the fear. I let out a shaky breath, and squared my shoulders. His brows raised—a question, and I nodded. He was right.
“You know what I’m going to say.” He grinned.
You’ve got this, Aimes.
The breath I took this time was cleansing and steadying. I met his smile with a real one, a confident one.
His greenish hazel eyes were bright and excited, his nose and cheeks were slightly pinked from the chill in the rink, his hair artfully messy and I just found myself staring at him. Marveling at how alive he looked in this moment, how ready he was to take this challenge on and win it. He stole my breath every time, and I wasn’t even sure if he understood the full scope of what I felt for him.
It had been me and him blazing our way across ice and life for so long now—he was my best friend. The person I called first when I had news. We saw each other every day, spendingcountless hours in each other’s company and I hadn’t grown tired of it—I didn’t think I ever would. There wasn’t a part of me that never wanted tonotbe around him.
I stared at him because his outfit complimented mine—black pants with a pale pink top, sparkling crystals along the open collar and lapels. My own outfit was a sparkly pale pink dress, the skirt ending mid-thigh. There was a sheer cut out along my left side, and crystals galore that spread out from the cut out and over my chest—they spread out down my back towards the skirt. It’s one of my favorites, and it’s perfect for this dance. Light, pretty, and romantic. We would be telling a love story—one where he was throwing me into the air and watching me spin around and away, but always coming back. Brennan didn’t want us wasting our chemistry, knowing full well that audiences and judges ate that element up.
