Page 25 of Ice Dance

THIRTEEN

REN

Navarro was the last thought in my head, behind the dance and what I needed to do to get through it. Or at least, he should have been. But I’d seen him that morning, skating as though we were strangers. Staying far, far away. I couldn’t blame him.

Alisha had turned up anyway, even though neither Dylan nor I had encouraged it. She wanted back in. Six months, and years of working with her on and off before that. This was her chance too. I couldn’t stand in her way. And it solved the problem of my inappropriate thoughts about Navarro.

Dylan hadn’t been able to break the news to him in time.

I hadn’t wanted that.

I hadn’t wanted any of this. But here we were.

“Are you ready?” I asked Alisha, as we stood at the side of the ice.

The panel were in the stands, the only people here. No music. Not yet. This wasn’t an audience-centric performance. They just wanted to see what we could do as partners and whether we’d take the pressure of the nine-month training process, building toward the final competition at the end of the year. In truth, I wasn’t sure if Alisha and I could excel at this, but we were doing it.

We stepped onto the ice and performed perfectly adequately. The panel made requests, wanted us to show how well we could work with changes to our choreography, if we were able to adjust and trust. We did the technical precisely. Then performed a few lifts. It was all exquisite, as though the wobbles from the last few days hadn’t happened. It was, in fact, everything I could have hoped for.

And it left me hollow.

We were called back onto the ice at the end and the verdict given, sandwiched between constructive criticism. Alisha had dropped her blade a few times, come out of a twizzle slightly out of sync, but nothing we couldn’t work on.

We were in for the Meridian.

That news should have left me elated. Instead, it fell flat.

We came off the ice, removed our skates, and left the rink for the waiting areas.

“Wasn’t that fabulous?” Alisha flung an arm around my waist and pulled me close. “We did it.”

“Yes, indeed.”

I looked up, and my gaze found Navarro among the others like it always did. He sat on the floor outside the café doors, relaxing beside his friend, the same one from the bar. Alisha chose that moment to kiss me on the cheek, then left my side and veered away from the noise of the crowd to call her parents back in Finland, leaving me standing in a sea of people, like an island nobody wanted to get too close to.

Navarro rose to his feet and came over. I stood there, not moving. Waiting. Regretting. He wouldn’t understand. I saw it on his face immediately. And I couldn’t even explain why I’d had to end us before we’d begun. My heart kicked with the same rush of adrenalin I got before performing.

He stopped in front of me. Skaters moved around us, faceless bodies that meant nothing to me. But him? I could feel the heat coming off him, feel the anger strumming through him. His face showed everything, every flicker of emotion. His lashes fluttered, his jaw was set.

I wasn’t sure if he was going to swing for me, like he had in the bar, or spit in my face.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“Thank you,” I croaked out, then opened my mouth to say something, anything. But I had nothing. No words. All I could think was, You’re dangerous, and not for the reasons you think.

He broke our stare, and walked by, brushing my arm. My heart pounded the seconds. One, two, three. I turned and watched him walk away, into the rest of his life and his career, wherever it may take him. Somewhere I couldn’t be.

The hollow ache got worse, swallowing my insides.

“We should celebrate.” Alisha bounded back in. “Almost didn’t happen, and I am sorry for that.”

“Yes.” I wasn’t even sure what I was saying yes to. My heart still pounded, like it couldn’t let him go. I looked for him among the sea of people, but he’d gone.

The fact that I cared so much confirmed how dangerous he had been. It was a good thing I’d stopped it. Necessary, even. For both of us.

A few hours later, I heard he’d been selected as a soloist.

In nine months, we’d be back in Montreal, performing for the win. Between now and then, I had to dance with a woman I knew to be a weak link, and I couldn’t help but feel as though I’d made a terrible mistake. There hadn’t been a right way to do this, not one I’d survive.