The opening stick click of “Valerie” cascades through the arena, and Nat pops her hips to the beginning beat before she glides backward in time to Amy Winehouse’s raspy voice.
I don’t know a ton about figure skating, but I can’t imagine the judges finding her routine as anything but absolutely flawless. Her movements are fluid, graceful, and effortless. She flies through each trick and jump with precision and ease. It’s clear that skating, this routine, is second nature to her now. She’s completely at home on the ice, coasting through it with a brilliant smile on her face. It’s as if the song and the dance flows through her skin and bones, morphing her into something not only human, but a pure expression of music and movement.
She’s living art. Breathtakingly beautiful.
As the song winds down, Nat sails across the ice on one foot, bending forward as she kicks her other leg out at an angle, picking up speed. She spins faster, reaching toward the blade of her lifted skate with one hand while the other reaches wide. While keeping perfect balance and speed, she begins to lift her foot behind her, arching her back as she reaches over her head with her other hand, holding her foot to force herself into a tight spiral that moves so quickly, she appears blurred.
The last bit of the song echoes through the arena as Nat’s arms raise over her head and her body begins to loosen, slowing until she comes to a stop in time with the end of the music. One spotlight shines down on her, and her chest heaves as she works to catch her breath, but the beaming smile on her face tells me she’s proud of her performance.
The entire arena goes pin-drop silent for only a moment before erupting into a deafening echo of cheer, the loudest I’ve heard throughout the duration of the entire competition.
As Nat relaxes out of her final pose, she spins in a slow circle, waving to the ground and grasping her chest. Making her way toward the Kiss and Cry, I can make out the movement of herfeathering tears from her face, which causes moisture to spring to the corner of my eyes too.
I stop recording just as a text comes through on my phone.
She’s transcendent.
She is.
Get home safe to me, okay, Darlin’?
We’ll be there soon.
Natand I have a red-eye flight this evening, and we’ll be heading to the airport straight from the arena after the award ceremony.
Nat’s scores are announced and, as to be assumed, she scored exceptionally well. There are three more performances following hers, but as of now, she’s in the running for gold.
The rest of the competition continues, and while one skater had a phenomenal technical performance, none of them held a candle to Natalia. She had the best costume, the brightest smile, the loudest cheers. She was born to own the ice like that, to have thousands of eyes trained on her, to be the center of the universe. She draws people in with an uncanny ability to make them believe she’s shimmering just for them.
I make my way down the stands as the podiums are set up on the ice, finding the rest of our university’s team and coaches behind the boards. Technically, attendees aren’t allowed in the area, but when one of Nat’s roommates spots me, she allows me in.
I wait with bated breath and trembling hands as the medals are awarded, though we already know Nat’s taking first place. It doesn’t calm the nerves swirling in my stomach as they call hername and the entire place erupts with enough cheer to make the building shake.
Tears stream down her cheeks as they place the gold medal over her head, and she tucks her bouquet of flowers to her chest before turning to wave at the crowds. As she makes another turn, her eyes land on mine; when our gazes clash, we both cry harder.
Nat begins laughing, paying no mind to the officials, coaches, or other skaters, shuffling down the podium steps and running toward me. She’s still wearing her skates, and with the guards covering the blades, she wobbles as she makes her way to me.
I round the boards, swinging open the gate and stepping onto the ice myself so I can meet her half way. I’m sure we portray quite the pair as we both sway over the ice unbalanced before colliding into each other’s arms.
Taller than me, Nat wraps hers around the back of my head, dropping her face into my neck. I lock mine around her waist, lifting her and spinning her around. When I lower Nat, she pulls back, grabbing both sides of my face.
“You did it.” I smile. “You’re utter perfection.”
Her breath hitches, dark eyes growing wide as they glow with tears. “I love you, Ells.”
“I love you too,” I whisper.
I run my hand up her spine, and Nat tugs me against her, feathering her lips between mine. She kisses me hard, mouth plush and wet—salty with tears and sweet in taste. She slips her tongue into my mouth, dancing with mine, forcing a soft moan to float out of me. It spurs her on, and she seals us closer. I’m vaguely aware of the roaring arena, of flashes of light, but it’s all blurred and hazed—my focus is on Nat. My best friend. The love of my life.
She removes her mouth from mine before diving back in for one more kiss, dropping her forehead to mine. I feel her rapidbreath with each press of her chest, and when I open my eyes, I find hers still closed—as if she’s savoring the moment.
I wrap my fingers around her forearm, squeezing once, anchoring her with my touch. Taking one final deep breath, she finally opens her eyes and steps back just as one of her coaches ushers her toward a waiting reporter.
“They want to interview you!” she calls, tugging Nat away.
She runs her hand down my arm, tangling her fingers with mine as she’s hauled away.
“It’s okay. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
