Jack narrowed his eyes at me. “You fucker.”
Laughter erupted from Matilda.Fuck, she has an annoyingly nice smile. She’sso—
Catching me off guard, Jack snatched the phone from my hand and rushed to the other side of the room. At this point, I just let him have his way. He was like a fucking toddler.
His smile widened as he read the list. “Aha! How about ‘You’re the One That I Want’? That would be perfect for you two.”
“That’s the worst song of the movie,” I argued.
He slowly turned his head to me, eyebrows raised. “Donotsay that again. It’s an absolute banger.”
I shook my head, dragging my hands down my face.
“It could work.” Matilda uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, tucking her hands underneath. “No one’s done it before, and it is probably one of the most iconic songs from the musical.”
I was about to disagree, hating the idea of doing a remotely romantic dance, but Matilda continued, “Aaaand, it will be a goodway to showon-screenchemistry.” She emphasized the “on-screen” part, holding up her hands in submission.
“What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this.
Her cheeks were tinted pink, and her smile was slightly tighter than normal. “You don’t want to be friends or anything; I get that. But you want to win, and, whether you like it or not, we need to show some chemistry. So, instead of looking like friends in the cutaways and risking faking it, we could choose some iconic romantic music instead.”
My gut instinct said absolutely not. Even the thought of pretending to be romantic with Matilda made me want to retreat. It felt like crossing a barrier I’d promised myself I’d never step over again.
But I had to admit…it made sense.
“You said you wouldn’t have a problem acting like we liked each other while skating, right?” She was talking faster now, her words bubbling with excitement. “Then let’s give them something to talk about through our routines.”
“You know, she’s definitely on to something.” Jack spoke to me while gesturing with my phone at Matilda.
“It’s the best of both worlds, then,” she continued. “We don’t have to be friends, but we could still get the audience vote if there is speculation around how we are on the ice together and our music choices.”
The idea of feigning closeness to Matilda unsettled me as much as it sent warmth through my veins. It would be too easy to “act” close with someone like her, so effortlessly beautiful and seemingly kind. Combine that with spending every day together, touching and skating…It felt like a disaster waiting to happen.
But as we had been watching the tapes, I’d noticed that a few couples who Matilda said had made it to the finals weren’t always the best skaters. A quick Google search revealed streams ofspeculative articles around their relationships, from a romantic song choice to holding each other a little too long after a dance had finished. That would be a safer way to get publicity than pretending to be friendly off the ice, right?
“I could definitely work this angle, Luca.” Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket, throwing mine back to me. He typed something and then re-pocketedit.
“I don’t like being dishonest,” I offered weakly, feeling like I was fighting a futile battle.
“You’re not being dishonest. You’re acting.”
My mother’s face flashed in my mind. The heaviness that had lingered in her eyes when I visited yesterday.
“Fine, let’s doit.”
“Fuck, yes.” Jack punched the air in victory, narrowly avoiding the flat-screen TV behind him. Jack was right. What was the difference between this and acting?
“I feel really good about this season.” Matilda’s eyes sparkled with hope as she organized the papers in her lap, a genuine smile crossing her lips. Jack started rambling some shit about getting more food, but my eyes flicked back to Matilda.
She was still sorting through her papers, taking little notes. But her smile remained, eyes crinkled at the corners, and her body relaxed. She was content with our arrangement. No friendship off the ice, but ninety seconds of acting romantic on theice.
I’d gotten what I wanted, so why did it feel like I hadn’t really won atall?
Three weeks in, and ourmirror sequencing looked good, even though I tripped us over numerous times during practice.
Last week, Matilda had taught me the basic glides, forward crossovers, twists, and backward crossovers; this week had been spent perfecting them. It wasn’t difficult per se, but it was fast due to the upbeat music. When we were perfectly in time, it looked good. But when we weren’t, it looked hideous. And with every pass and movement, it became impossible to ignore how close Matilda was—the warmth of her hand in mine, the focus in her eyes, the soft curve of her waist. It was unsettling how much I noticed.
“Let’s go once more, and then we can break for a bit.” Matilda gestured to our starting position, and I took her lead.
