Up close, the strain was harder to miss. A flush lingered high on his cheeks beneath the arena lights, and although his expression had settled back into its usual restraint, I could still see the effort behind it.
“Hey.”
His gaze shifted to me.
“Are you okay?”
“I am fine.” Another answer delivered without hesitation.
My stomach clenched. “Luka.”
Don’t keep doing this to me.
For a moment he said nothing.
The interruption should have annoyed him. Most skaters would have glanced away, then ended the conversation.
Luka remained where he was.
Around us, practice continued uninterrupted. Music drifted through the speakers. Coaches shouted corrections. A jump landing rattled the ice somewhere across the rink.
The noise of the rink faded into the background.
Standing this close, I could see the strain beneath the composure he’d been trying to rebuild since the lift. It was like watching someone hold a door shut against a storm.
I stared at him. “You’re forcing it.”
For a moment he said nothing.
Luka Davorin was very good at ending conversations he didn’t want.
And he was still standing there.
Luka
Kvrat.
I stuck my chin out. “That is not your assessment to make.”
He stood there, his eyes locked on mine. “Doesn’t make it wrong.”
The certainty in his tone caught me off guard. I blinked. “You are watching me now?”
Dean’s gaze didn’t shift. “You’re not exactly subtle today.”
I felt that one, the accuracy of it. I held his gaze a second longer, then forced my expression back into place.
“You are… distracting.”
And so close.My heart seemed to react to his presence, thumping hard enough that I was certain he could hear it.
He surprised me with a brief smile. “Oh wow. ‘Distracting.’ I’ll try not to let that go to my head.”
I couldn’t hold back my smile. Then I remembered where I was.
I glanced over to where Mila stood with Sokolov, willing her not to see, not to read too much into this.
She was staring at me, eyes wide.
