She pauses in the doorway, her mesmerizing ass in my eyeline as she looks over her shoulder. She gives me a salute, a sarcastic, haphazard gesture meant to irritate me. “You read my mind.”
Thank fuck she can’t read mine.
Chapter 7
Isla
WhenIarrivehomeafter practice, I’m desperate for a scalding hot shower so I can burn every inappropriate, unsavory thought about my boss from my mind.
Wes Davidson clearly doesn’t remember being my first kiss.
Ididn’t realize my parking lot terrorist, the unfairly rugged man who hit my car, is the brother of my new skating partner. Not until I clocked the photo in his office—Spencer and Wes as teenagers standing in front of an amusement park ride. Wes looks nothing like the shy, gawky kid I met when I was sixteen years old, who found me crying in a hallway at a skating competition and whisked me away from the rink to cheer me up.
All I wanted wassomeonein my life to witness the moment when I managed to climb to the top and take the gold medal. The podium felt lonely without anyone to celebrate my accomplishment with me.
Wes knew what I needed that night. He listened to me talk about my sadness, and then he made me forget it. I’d never wanted to kiss someone before him. But I fell hard for the boy with the soulfulbrown eyes who made me smile and forget everything that brought me down.
It’s hard to imagine that boy grew into the man I saw today. Holy hell, talk about a glow up. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a personality to match his hot exterior, and he’s lost the kindness he possessed that night.
“Brooks,” I call, walking toward his closed bedroom door. “You doing okay?”
“Stopped puking my guts up thirty minutes ago.” His voice comes through faintly, like it’s muffled by a pillow.
“Need anything to eat?”
He groans. “Please don’t talk to me about food.”
“Sorry,” I answer with a chuckle. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I think I’m going to sleep. Or die,” he deadpans. “Everything go okay with Spencer?”
“Better than I imagined,” I reply honestly.
I expected Spencer to realize his mistake in offering to partner with me once he met me in person and saw my skating up close. Having him tell me that our practice today reaffirmed his decision calmed my anxiety about this next step in my skating career unlike anything else.
“That’s great.” Brooks’s voice sounds quieter and coated in sleep.
When I check my phone, I see a text from Spencer waiting for me. I had put my phone on Do Not Disturb for the drive home and blasted my rage playlist. Practice with Spencer was invigorating, butthe meeting afterward with Wes set me on edge. I loved getting the last word, but it fucking stung when he told me not to bother him.
Spencer:Is it cool if I give Wes your number? He’s bugging me about paperwork, and I’m watching VPR.
Me:VPR?
Spencer:Oh, Isla, noooo. You don’t know Vanderpump Rules??
I read the words with the same tone he used earlier when Wes thoughtThe Vampire Diarieswas a movie. Spencer’s reputation in figure skating is one to be envied. His fifteen-year career has resulted in dozens of medals, including two golds and a silver at world championships, five Grand Prix gold medals, and two silvers and three bronze medals from the Olympics. I’ve seen him expertly toss his partners in the air and catch them effortlessly across different states and countries. Watched him spin them in gorgeous death spirals, the best I’ve ever seen, in competition after competition. He’s kept me off the podium more times than I’d like to admit.
It’s jarring to have someone I’ve admired from afar, who I wished I could skate with, reduced to a mere human being. One who likes to rib his brother over his grumpiness and is obsessed with pop culture. He’s become a real person to me, and with that comes an incredible weight of responsibility not to let him down.
Spencer:Okay, you’re coming over and we’re binge-watching this show. It’s team building.
Me:That’s different from any team building I’ve done.
Spencer:Stick with me, kid.
Spencer:Anyway, your number? Wes has a one-track mind and thrives on checking things off his list, so you’d be doing me a favor.
Spencer’s description of his brother veers way too close to how I’d describe myself.
