“It hasn’t worked yet. Hopefully, Luca might be able to help you this season.”
I stopped in the hallway and tipped my head back toward the ceiling. Frustration burned through my chest.
“Yeah, hopefully.” What else could I say? If I fought back, she’d continue to find new ways of inadvertently insulting me or she’d disinvite me from the next family event. Or tell my sister, Lauren, so she could torment me instead.
“Have you met him yet?”
“Nope, we’re meeting in thirty minutes orso.”
“Well, I look forward to meeting him at the press event.”
“Yeah, it will be fun,” I lied. TheStars on Icepre-season press event was my mother’s way of staying relevant, years after her Olympic win. It was pretty much the only time she seemed proud of my achievements—probably because it made her look good.
“Anyway, Mum, I’ve got togo—”
“You never make time for me anymore, Matilda. Honestly, you make me feel like such a bad mother when you rush to get off the phone every time we talk.”
So, instead of having twenty minutes to decompress before meeting Luca, I spent it on the phone with my mother as I paced the hallway.
The conversation with Mum only reminded me how badly I needed to win. She wasn’t ever going to get off my back unless I did something notable with my figure skating. This couldfinallybe the chance to start living my life the way I wanted.
God, I hope Luca wants to wintoo.
I had ten minutes until I needed to be in the café area to meet Luca, so I had time for a quick freshen-up. I darted down the bright hallway, glancing at the sparkling framed images of the studio’s most successful programs as I passed. I didn’t feature in any of the photos, but I hadn’t done anything memorable on the show.
Yet,a small voice chastised me.I haven’t done anything memorable on the showyet.
I rounded the corner, rushing into the dark bathroom and triggering the sensor light. I wasn’t late, but I didn’t want to risk making a wrong impression by keeping them waiting. I stood at the sink, splashing water as I washed my hands.
A few too many flyaway hairs, flushed cheeks, and wide eyes with slightly smudged mascara stared back atme.
Swiping under my eyes and removing any remnants of black flakes, I dried my hands on the sides of my dance shorts. Checking myself for approximately five seconds in the full-length mirror, I gave myself a little shake to get a move on. I reached for the door—
And it barreled straight into my face.
“Oh, my Jesus—fuck.” I staggered back, my bags dropping from my arms, hands shooting up to cradle my nose and forehead, unsure which hurt more. Had I heard a crunch? I was sure I’d heard a crunch. Probably my nose. Possibly my skull.
Or maybe it was my ego cracking in half from the sheer embarrassment.
“Fuck,” a deep, American voice grumbled as I saw the door open again through my scrunched-up eyes. “Sorry, that was an accident,” he said, his tone laced with a defensive edge.
I winced in response because, quite frankly, that’s all I could do. I still couldn’t make out who had thrown the door in my face, my eyes refusing to open as tears burned behind my eyelids. Still covering my nose with one hand, I steadied myself on the wall withthe other.
“Hey.” The man’s level voice was a sharp contrast to my inner turmoil. A cautious tap on my shoulder reminded me that an actual human was in front of me while I was acting like I’d been hit by an MMA fighter.
I glanced up, and my stomach dropped when I saw who the door-wielderwas.
Luca.
My hands were instantly clammy, and my heart rate kicked up a notch.
“God, I am so sorry.” My voice was nasal and strained. Maybe if I kept my eyes closed long enough, this would all go away.
“Why are you apologizing?” he countered. “Besides the fact that you’re using the men’s restroom.”
That had me opening one eye, the other still pinched closed. I could only make out an expensive-looking white T-shirt, tanned skin, and a hint of gold disappearing beneath the neckline of his shirt.
“This is the women’s bathroom.”The gender of the bathroom is the least of my issues rightnow.
