Page 2 of Ice Dance

CAMDEN

I laced up my skates at the side of the rink, double knot, like I’d always done since managing to get myself tangled while skating on my local town’s frozen pond when I was sixteen. I’d learned to knot and knot again, or the laces might come loose and I’d end up face down on the ice, and that wouldn’t be pretty for anyone involved.

“What are you dancing, Cam?” Casey said, dropping onto the bench next to me. His grin said he didn’t really expect me to answer, which was good, because I had no intention of revealing my game so early during selection week.

He pulled his skates from his bag, pulled the rubber guards off the blades, and began to loosen the laces, getting ready to put them on and hit the ice.

We’d been out for a few beers last night, catching up. It had been three months since I’d last seen him. Casey was a good guy. A talented Team Canada skater too.

“Whatever I feel like,” I said. “Might make it up on the spot.”

He laughed while he tugged his skates on. “You tryin’ out for the Meridian Cup?”

“Thought about it.” The Meridian was out of my league. Not because the contenders were better—I figure skated better than most people here—but the logistics of an international ice-dance competition were far beyond my reach.

“You should,” he said, as though it were that simple. “You made qualifying. They invited you here, didn’t they? Must mean you can skate.”

I laughed. He knew I could skate. Asshole. “They invited me because I’m the most handsome out of all of you. Someone has to pose for the PR shots. Nobody wants your ugly face on the posters.”

Casey would have been golden-boy handsome if he hadn’t broken his nose when he was ten. That faceplanting on the ice thing? Yeah, he’d been there. The broken nose made him look real, though, less like a Ken doll. Because without it, the blond hair and soft, Labrador eyes already made him lethal with the women.

“Whatever, man.” He shook his head, blue eyes full of laughter. Then he sobered, turning serious. “But you should, you know. Don’t let them bench you. You got more talent than that.”

“Thanks, coach.”

He grinned and started on the second skate’s laces. “Hey, did you hear about Hasegawa?”

“He’s here?” Of course he was here. The Meridian Cup organizers would want someone of his caliber on the headliners to bring in the sponsors, especially as the Meridian was a new competition. They’d need the elite. Multiple Grand Prix golds, countless national and international wins. Ice dancers didn’t get much more elite than the UK’s ice prince himself, Ren Hasegawa.

“Oh, he’s here alright. But not for much longer.” Casey snorted, and gave his laces a good tug. “His partner quit this morning. What’s she called? Hannah something?”

“Alisha,” I said. Alisha was good. They both were. Everyone knew they’d been working together recently, probably for the Meridian. Although something had obviously gone very wrong. “Why’d she quit?”

Casey shrugged. “Why wouldn’t she quit? They drop like flies around him. That’s like three partners in two years? Guy’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s a top-tier asshole.” I’d heard the rumors. Ice prince on the ice and icy bastard off it. Brutal, efficient, hard as nails. He went through partners as often as skaters blunted their blades.

“Not on his own, he’s not. Apparently he skated right after, like nothing had happened. She’s gone, packed her bags, got on the next flight. Couldn’t get away fast enough.” He chuckled. “He’s done. There’s nobody left who will work with him. He’s fuckin’ toxic.”

I wasn’t so sure. I’d seen him skate live in Vancouver for an ISU International cup, where he’d won silver. Seen him skate in Maine. Watched way too many YouTube videos of him. The man was poise and grace poured into a body that somehow carried both natural elegance and fierce masculinity. He didn’t just dance, he commanded the space on the ice, made it bend to his will. Not many people could match that. Sure, he had a reputation, but his dancing talked for him. Hasegawa needed a partner who matched him, someone who wasn’t afraid of him, and so far, he hadn’t found one. Looked as though he wasn’t going to either, not this year.

“Bastard’s clean as fuck,” Casey said, finishing tying his laces. He got to his feet and stretched his arms, flexing his muscles. “I didn’t see it, but Jen saw him skate after. She said he’s on point.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Casey?” I laughed. “Clean as fuck?”

“Just proves you gotta have more than skill to win in ice dance.” He rolled his shoulders and eyed the rink behind me. “Something like an actual personality.” He lunged and ruffled my hair. “Hey, don’t you have one of those?”

I shoved him back, making him stagger on his blades. “Some say, yeah.”

“Maybe you should dance with him, eh, pretty boy?” Casey winked, then his eyes widened, as though the idea had sparked fireworks in his head. “Shit, don’t they have a gender open category this year?”

Now I really did laugh. “Fuck off, Case. Have you been drug tested? That’s never gonna happen.” Hasegawa came from figure skating. His base was ballroom-style dancing. I danced freestyle. No less challenging, but a whole different skillset. Figure skaters frowned on the likes of my messy technique.

“Yeah, no, but it’d be fun to watch. See who gets killed first.”

“In your dreams.” And mine.

The one time I’d been close enough to Hasegawa to say hello, he’d blanked me, as though I didn’t exist. Worse, like I was something unworthy of his precious time. You can’t dance with someone who looks down on you. Dance is trust. Trust is rhythm. Rhythm is passion. You gotta have a little cha-cha-cha with your partner, a little romance, some heat. The audience can feel it when a couple click. That would be almost impossible to replicate with a slab of ice like Hasegawa, especially in a male-male partnership.