Page 5 of Only Ever You

“Let’s try again.” My coach leans on the boards, her elbows resting on top. Elena is a former figure skater who won a silver medal for her home country, Russia, at the Olympics. She’s been my coach since I was five. I was in a skating class at first, but this year, I started private lessons. Elena is tough. She pushes me to be better, but she’s supportive and caring too. She doesn’t ask me to do anything she doesn’t think I can handle, and she compliments me when I learn a new skill. “Practice is almost over, but I know you can show me a well-done toe loop first.”

Pausing, I take a deep breath and focus. She’s right. I can do it. I thrive on the ice. When I’ve got a pair of skates on, the rest of the world disappears. I don’t think about all the homework waiting for me after, about school, or the boys the girls in my class are suddenly obsessed with. This is where I can be myself, and I love it. My practices are long, five days a week, but that doesn’t stop me from giving it my all. I want to be the best, and Elena thinks I can be, but only if I do the work.

“Solnyshko, we don’t have all day.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Solnyshko is the nickname she gave me after my first practice. My dad freaked out big time at first because he had no idea what it meant and immediately went into overprotective dad mode. But once Elena explained she called me a ‘little sun,’ he tried to learn how to pronounce it too.

I huff and push the thought away. That’s not what I should be focusing on right now.

With my arms held out, I skate forward on the inside edge of the blades, then switch to a backward-facing position. Elena watches me, her blue eyes piercing, one eyebrow arched as I place my left toe behind my right foot and take off from the back outside edge. I wobble on the landing, but Elena only gives me an encouraging smile.

She nods once. “Again.”

Grinning, I push off, determined to make it cleaner this time. I can do it.

After three more attempts, my toe loop is much better. Elena claps, her face bright, and my mom follows suit as she strolls down from the stands.

I skate over to them, fixing my ponytail and smoothing the flyaways. My breath is quick and shallow, but warmth settles in the pit of my stomach, making me smile wider.

Practice went well, and from the way Elena is smiling at Mom, she agrees.

As I near the boards, a commotion breaks out on the other side of the rink. One glance over my shoulder, and my stomach drops as my muscles tense. Without hesitation, I take off in the opposite direction.

Figure skaters are not supposed to share the ice with the hockey team. Too dangerous, according to basically every coach ever. But there’s a game scheduled tonight, so they shoved both practices into the same slot.

While I was on my side of the rink, the hockey boys were stuck on another half, doing drills only—no scrimmage, no shots flying everywhere. I can imagine them being bored, but fighting? It seems a bit too much.

Though, considering it’s Michael and Cade Turner again, I shouldn’t be surprised. They play on the same team, but they both want to be center, so they’re always competing.

Before I can get to them, Asher pulls Michael away. Another boy clutches Cade by the jersey and yanks him back too, but I don’t pay them any attention. That boy is trouble, and I don’t like him. He always picks fights with my best friend.

With his hands wrapped around Michael’s shoulders from behind, Asher grits through his teeth, “Stop. If Coach sees you fighting again, he’ll bench you.”

“Let me go!” Michael thrashes against his friend, his focus still fixed on Cade, his expression full of rage.

“No,” Asher huffs. His green eyes lock with mine, and the anger in them disappears. His face lights up, and a smile curves his lips. “Thank God you’re here.”

Michael snaps his head in my direction, a frown etched onto his face. His deep brown hair is falling in his eyes, his helmet abandoned on the ice.