Jump.
Land.
Spin.
Extension.
Again.
The final spin coils tight, my body folding upon itself until the world blurs into streaks of color and light. I release, arms lifting as the music crashes into its final note.
Silence.
Then the arena explodes.
Applause crashes over me in waves, like the surf, thunderous and wild. My chest heaves as I catch my breath, adrenaline flooding my system. I bow instinctively as tears sting my eyes.
This isn't a game.
This is triumph.
Scores roll in as my heartbeat slows. Numbers climb, and my breath catches. I can't even fathom it, even as the announcer confirms.
Gold. Pure, undeniable gold.
My hands fly to my mouth as dizziness washes over me. My coach reaches me first, plows into me, and swings me around. Relief, pride, grief, joy, my emotions knot together in my chest.
The cameras swarm as the officials approach. Security tightens around me.
Then I see them.
Jaxson stands near the barricade, eyes locked on me, unblinking like he's afraid I'll vanish. He's smiling and clapping enthusiastically. Bash is a few feet back, cheering too, quieter, more reserved, as if he's trying not to draw Jaxson's notice. He looks protective, remorseful.
My stomach sinks.
Of all the places to see them both again, of course, it has to be here, at this moment. I should've expected it. My last win was covered by every major sports network. Reporters were vying for an interview, but I had managed to dodge them for the most part. I won't be that lucky now, it seems.
I narrow my eyes and straighten my shoulders. This is my moment, not theirs, and I won't let them take it from me.
I turn to the reporters crowding in and answer a few questions. They start slow, with general questions aboutmy career, then turn rapid-fire when they turn to Jaxson.
"How long have you worked toward becoming an Olympic champion?"
"After the last Olympics, fans thought you were done. What changed your mind?"
"There are rumors that you and Jaxson are divorcing. Can you comment?"
"Are you still together?"
"What are your plans for your marriage?"
My manager steps in front of me, lifting a hand.
"Gentlemen. Ladies. We're steering this away from Ms. Smith's personal life," she says firmly. "We won't be addressing rumors. We're here to celebrate Amelia's career and her win. Nothing more."
She eyes the grumbling crowd.
"If there are no further questions about figure skating, Amelia's returning to the locker room to rest until results are finalized."
