“Do you like skating with me? Do you think we’ve got a chance?” I asked the two questions together, assuming a nonchalant tone and hoping she’d answer them honestly. I willed my heart to stop racing.You don’t care what she thinks of you, Luca.
“Of course I like skating with you. I hope we’ve got a chance; we just won’t know until we see the others next week.”
“So you don’t care that we aren’t friends? Or that we won’t have any good content for the cutaways?”
“Not at all. It’s your decision at the end of the day. I’m happy with our teamwork.”
A blatantlie.
Just moments ago, she’d said the opposite. It ultimately confirmed everything I thought about her. I couldn’t figure out why she was so eager to pretend everything was OK, but did it matter? She’d lied tome.
I had been antagonizing her, but I’d thought we’d come to some sort of truce the other week when I’d told her about my mom. But now she reminded me so much of Nancy, reminded me of the deceit, the fallout, the career I’d lost. Nancy had been too amenable, flexible, and happy to go with the flow. And she’d ended up blackmailing me. For some unknown reason, Matilda’s lies grated on me more than even Nancy’s had, leaving an annoying ache in my chest.
Anger surged within me, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to controlit.
I’d had enough.
My reflection in the mirrorshowed the effort of the hours I’d spent getting ready. Attendance at the press event wasn’t compulsory, but it set the scene for the season. Some pairs deliberately didn’t attend to ignite a media frenzy about their absence, leaving people speculating and invested in their partnership. My partners and I always turned up, partly because it was good to make an appearance and mingle, but also because my mother wouldn’t take it well if I skipped it.
I was nervous about appearing publicly with Luca, hoping his acting skills would come through. We hadn’t spoken since a particularly frosty practice session earlier that day, but I was trying not to overthinkit.
Family and friends were also invited tonight. Sadly, Lily couldn’t make it, so it was just me, my sister, and my mother.
The fact that they would be there was part of the reason I needed everything to go smoothly. My mother would be watching to ensure that I was doing everything in my power to look the part of her perfect ice-skating protégée. Whereas Lauren’s relentless competitiveness meant she took way too much pleasure in watching me fail.
They weren’t only coming for me, though. My mother was a favorite of the channel because of her Olympic figure-skater status; they always captured a few clips of her attendance for the cutaways, and she basked in it. My sister, meanwhile, had a talent for shamelessly flirting with anyone in the vicinity—especially if they had anything to do with me. Ever since one of her exes had tried to hit on me, she’d turned it into some twisted hobby to flirt with anyone who so much as looked my way. It didn’t matter that I had been fifteen at the time and her boyfriend was twenty-one, or that I had never even spoken to the guy. It had grown into yet another thing that we could compete over.
My mother had always encouraged competition between us, entering us in the same junior dance contests, comparing our grades over dinner. I hated it. I just wanted a sister I could talk to, but it was hard when we were constantly vying for Mum’s approval.
I might’ve been the better skater, but Lauren excelled at everything else. She had a successful career, a big family home—all the things my mother prized, everything she hadn’t had growing up. My grandparents had never had steady jobs, so Mum had to fight harder than most, relying on grants and scholarships to skate.
She liked to remind me that despite it all, she’d won an Olympic medal, yet with all my advantages, I still hadn’t won anything. Aside from skating, Lauren was successful in all the ways Mum cared about.
I adjusted my dress one last time, trying to straighten any wrinkles and ensure the girls sat nicely. It was a soft and fitted dress. The butter-yellow satin was tailored around my waist but flared enough to fall comfortably over the curve of my hips and thighs, all the way to the floor. The strapless, sleeveless top made me feel self-conscious, but it did reveal a good chunk of cleavage, offering a nice distraction.
The gradual tan I’d slapped on that morning contrasted withthe soft yellow of the dress and with the gold jewelry I wore. It was refreshing to wear my hair down and wavy for once, instead of my usual messy ponytail. My makeup was subtle, with sparkly eyeshadow and lip gloss to match.
A ping from my phone told me my taxi had arrived. After ensuring everything was turned off at home, I grabbed my clutch and headedout.
Arriving a bitlate due to traffic, I texted Luca but got no response. The red carpet was busy with celebrities and skaters making their entrance. I scanned the crowd but couldn’t find Luca anywhere so I steeled myself and walked the carpet with as much confidence as I could muster. Spotting Asha and Gabe, I made my way over to join them. Noticing my approach, they both turned and offered me ahug.
“You look incredible.” Asha gave me a tight squeeze. “Yellow is one million percent your color.”
“Thank you. So do both of you,” I said. Asha wore a gorgeous emerald dress that stopped mid-thigh, her hair in a fancy updo. Gabe wore a fitted tuxedo like the other men. “Isn’t it nice to dress up for a change instead of being in workout stuff all the time?”
“Definitely. I’m sick of living in leggings,” Asha agreed. The bartender placed three glasses of prosecco on the counter.
“To a free bar,” I toasted, and we clinked our glasses together. “Are your partners here yet?” I asked them.
“Yeah, they’re here somewhere.” Gabe glanced around the room, looking for them. “Luca’s coming, right?”
“Yeah, I think he’s stuck in traffic getting across the city.” I took a long sip of the delicious bubbles.
We discussed training plans for the final week before the live shows, music choices, and what themes might arise in the later weeks.
After about twenty minutes, we decided to mingle. I spotted my mother and sister across the room, chatting with Mark, of course. I pulled my phone out of my clutch and shot Luca another text asking him where he was, before heading over to the small group. Better to get this over sooner rather than later.
“Darling,” my mother cooed in a tone too sickly sweet to be genuine. She gave my outfit a once-over and nodded, a small nod of approval—annoyingly satisfying, no matter how much I wished it wasn’t. Lauren noted it and narrowed her eyes.
