AbuzzfollowsSpencerandme as we walk through the rink where the John Nicks Pairs Challenge is being held.
“I hate this,” I mutter.
This attention is half the reason I took a break from the sport, exhausted by the backlash from the end of my partnership with Sebastian. He rested the blame at my feet, and everyone accepted his narrative.
“Ignore them,” Spencer says as we continue toward the dressing rooms.
“I’m tryin—Fuck.”
My head whips away from where I spot Sebastian and his new partner, Gloria Pellerino, lingering in the lobby, talking to a group of people I don’t recognize.
“What?” Spencer asks, his head turning to find the source of my concern.
“Don’t look,” I hiss.
But it’s too late, I already hear Sebastian’s voice growing louder until it’s my name escaping his mouth. “Never thought I’d see you competing again, Isla.”
My hand tightens on the strap of my bag. I knew he’d be here, but no amount of preparation could stave off the inferno of rage coursing through me. Sebastian had been my partner since the beginning of my pairs career. We started at the bottom and climbed through the ranks. We celebrated holidays together. He brought me to tears from laughing with his impressions. He was my best friend.
But as I stare at him, I can’t muster an iota of positive emotion. He ruined our partnership, trashed my name, and tainted my source of joy in this world because he couldn’t have me in the way he wanted. I wish I never had to see him again.
“That tracks,” I say sweetly with a condescending smile. “You never were the best thinker.”
Sebastian scowls, the olive skin of his face devolving into harsh lines. The public rarely sees his true self, but I witnessed it every time we hit a bump in the road in our skating career. He hooks a thumb in my direction and asks Spencer, “Regretting your decision yet?”
“Not for one second,” Spencer replies, gripping my hand in solidarity.
It’s the worst gesture he can make in front of Sebastian, who lusted after me for years. Sebastian’s beady eyes lock in on our hands as pure hatred pours from his gaze.
“Thisguy?” Sebastian barks at me. “You give it up to this guy? He’s not even a real fucking man.”
The noise around us cuts out, leaving a foggy static. I don’t realize I’m stepping toward Sebastian until Spencer places one leg in front of me, blocking my path.
“Not worth it,” Spencer whispers, wrapping his arm around mine. He leads me in the direction we were headed before this unfortunate run-in. “Okay? Let’s go warm up.”
“Best of luck to you both,” Sebastian calls in a mocking tone.
Spencer’s grip tenses on my arm. “He’s not—”
“Fuck you,” I whisper-shout, glaring at Sebastian over my shoulder as Spencer hustles me through the doors that lead to the locker rooms.
“Feel better?”
“Actually, yeah.” I point behind him, in the general direction of Sebastian on the other side of the wall. “How does that not bother you?”
Spencer shrugs. “He means nothing to me, so I don’t care about his opinions. Don’t let him have that control.”
“I don’t, when it comes to me, but he’s not allowed to shit-talk you.”
He throws his arm around my shoulder. “Aww, Isla, that’s so sweet, standing up for my honor like that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, shoving against his side.
Over the next couple of hours, we prepare to compete, which involves spending an inordinate amount on my hair and makeup, and Spencer painting his nails, trading off black and pink. After Coach Linden gives us her version of encouragement, we don’t talk. Spence and I listen to music through our earbuds as we wait to be called to the ice.
I keep my eyes shut, not wanting anything to distract me as I mentally walk through our short program over and over in my mind.
A shoulder bumps into mine, and I jolt into reality.
