Ice Games

by Jessica Clare

  Sure enough, when we skated back out at the end of the show, Ty and I were in last place. Emma and Louie Earl were in first, Annamarie and Serge were in second, and Victoria Kiss and her partner Toby had slid into third place, a full seven points ahead of us. All of the others had been graded extremely highly. Us? We were like the Bad News Bears of skating.

  But we weren’t out yet. The audience could still save us. So I smiled and waved ecstatically to everyone and cast Ty a few flirty looks, since I knew they were no doubt wondering if we were a couple or not.

  And hey, I wondered that too. So might as well make everyone think about it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  How do I feel right now? No comment. No fucking comment. — Ty Randall, Ice Dancing with the Stars, Post-Show Interview

  ~~ * ~~

  The next day was full of tension. I went back and forth between being utterly convinced we were voted off and utterly convinced that the audience vote would save us. We’d been charming and fun. How could they not save us? But the judging panel had done their best to sabotage us, and it might not be enough to bail us out.

  It was hard to skate and practice when you didn’t know if it’d be worth it. But I was an athlete, so I worked my ass off anyhow, and Ty and I worked on practicing some harder elements that we could potentially add to next week’s routine.

  The hours passed slowly, but then we were off to the studio and dressing in last night’s costumes once more. Except now, it didn’t feel like as much fun as it had when we’d had hope ahead of us.

  As I emerged from the dressing room, Ty saw my face and gave me a hug. “Hey. Either way it’s going to be okay, all right?”

  I nodded, my throat tight with nervousness. But I let him hug me a minute longer, and then it was time for all of the skaters to go back out onto the ice.

  Ty and I were the last couple to arrive, since we’d scored lowest, but I received a perverse sense of satisfaction when the audience cheered louder for us than anyone else. America loved an underdog. Maybe we’d be safe.

  “Before I get to tonight’s results,” Chip said, a fake smile in his voice. “Let’s talk with our contestants about how they think they did last night.” He immediately skated over to us, and that dreaded microphone was in our faces again. “Ty and Zara. Are you pleased with your performance?”

  My mouth worked soundlessly. I knew they were looking for a soundbite, something short that would sum everything up, but my mind was in chaos. I couldn’t think of anything clever to say. My nerves were getting the better of me.

  Ty leaned in and solved the problem for me. “I don’t know about Zara, but I’m not happy with our performance. I messed up, and if we go home, it’s because of me. I feel like I let my partner down.”

  Tears pricked my eyes and I hugged Ty close, burying my face against his tuxedo jacket, oblivious to the cheers of the crowd. “You absolutely did not let me down,” I told him. “You were awesome.”

  Chip moved on down the line and I felt Ty’s hand go to my back, stroking it. I didn’t pull away from him. I mean, if we were going home, did it matter how I acted right now? So I kept my head pressed to Ty’s chest and my arms around his waist because there was no other place I wanted to be at the moment.

  A few others murmured answers, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was waiting for the moment of truth.

  It came a short time later, after a commercial break. “Now it’s time for our results,” Chip said, and he took the envelope from the tiny skater that came out to give it to him. He opened it slowly, glanced at the audience, and then said, “The first skaters safe this week are…Emma and Louie Earl!”

  I straightened, releasing Ty’s waist and clapped politely for Emma. She looked thrilled.

  “The next team safe is….Victoria Kiss and Toby!”

  I clapped again, less happy. We were in the bottom two. No surprise there, but Annamarie and Serge were also in the bottom two, and they’d scored a full ten points higher than us last night. It was clear from Annamarie’s unhappy face that she was doing the same math in her head, trying to figure out why she was on the bottom.

  Another commercial break passed, an endless moment where we stood on the ice and fidgeted, waiting. Nothing was half as awkward as a commercial break, especially when you were on the filming end with nothing to do.

  Then Chip surged into action again. “It’s time to announce the team that will be going home tonight.”

  I clasped Ty’s hand, and across from us, I noticed Annamarie and Serge were holding hands, too.

  “Annamarie Evans and Serge,” Chip began, and then paused for dramatic effect. “You…ARE SAFE. Ty and Zara, I’m sorry, but you have been eliminated.”

  The audience booed, clearly on our side.

  We waved half-heartedly as Annmarie and Serge hugged and skated away, and the closing music began to play. “Do you have anything else to say, Ty and Zara?” Chip asked.

  “Thank you for…” I said, and then blanked out again. Tears threatened, and I looked over at my partner helplessly. I was not going to be able to speak around the knot in my throat.

  All my hopes had just gone down the drain, along with any chance of a career resurgence.

  “We just wanted to say thanks for the opportunity,” Ty said, my hand clasped tightly in his. “And that we appreciate all the support we got from the crowd at home.” Wild cheers met this announcement, and we waved one more time.

  Then it was time to skate off stage.

  As soon as we made it back to the curtained staging area, I buried my head in my hands and began to cry.

  Ty tucked me in against him, hugging me close. “Shh. It’s okay.”

  But it wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t be invited back. We hadn’t blown anyone away with our routines. I knew that if I had a chance in hell of impressing the producers, I needed to place well. At the bottom of the pack? It wasn’t going to cut it. And Ty had lost his opportunity to continue to show the viewing audience how charming he could be.

  All because Penelope Marks and the judging panel hated me.

  Of course, that only made me cry harder, and that meant Ty hugged me even closer.

  “Can we get an interview?” someone asked.

  I felt Ty shake his head. “Not right now. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “We need to do a few wrap-up pieces,” someone else said. “For next week’s show.”

  “And I said, not right now,” Ty gritted out. “Zara and I don’t want to talk to anyone, understand? We’ll do interviews tomorrow. For tonight, let us lick our wounds, okay?”

  To my surprise, Ty grabbed me behind the knees and hauled me up against him, carrying me. That was fine with me. I burrowed closer to him, hiding my face in his neck, and let him push his way through the crowd of producers, audience members, and cameramen.

  Eventually, we made our way out of the studio and to the waiting sedan. “Take us home,” Ty said, and the car sped away.

  ~~ * ~~

  Sometime around midnight, I pretty much got all the crying out of my system. I was disappointed as hell, sure, but not all that surprised. The moment I’d seen Penelope Marks on the judging panel? I’d known that she wasn’t going to cut me any favors. The most disappointing thing was knowing that we’d done well and had creative routines, and that it still hadn’t been enough.

  But then again, that was the way figure skating went sometimes.

  I emerged from my room, tiptoeing into the hallway and looking around. I’d been inconsolable earlier, and despite Ty’s suggestions that we go out and party away our sorrows, I’d wanted to come home and just hide under my covers and weep away the pain. So I had. I’d changed into my sleep shirt, crawled into bed, and bawled, alone.

  Of course, now that I’d gotten it all out of my system, I wanted to see Ty. I wanted to know what he was thinking, to know how he felt. Had he gone out without me to get over our horrible night? Or had he gone to bed early, too? I didn’t think a guy as tough as Ty would be upset over losing
like I’d been. Maybe pissy that it hadn’t gone well. But not devastated like me.

  Maybe I’d take him up on going out, after all. It was only midnight, right? And this was Hollywood. Someplace was bound to be open. I crossed my arms over my sleep t-shirt. It didn’t quite cover my panties, and I wasn’t wearing anything else, but for some reason, I didn’t feel weird about going and looking for Ty while dressed like this.

  A weird, thrilling little part of me wanted him to see me in my skimpy clothes. Just to see how he’d react.

  After all, this was going to be our last night together. In the morning, the sedan would come to take us both to the airport. No more Ty and Zara. Our team-up would be just a memory, and we’d both go back to our lives.

  And if that was going to happen? I wanted to spend tonight with him, even if it just meant sitting and talking on the sofa.

  So I headed into the kitchen, looking for telltale beer bottles. Nothing. Disappointment flashed through me. Maybe Ty had gone out without me after all. Maybe he’d already left, since we’d been kicked off the show. Anxiety churned in my gut, and I headed to the living room. “Ty?”

  A sound. I turned the corner and saw Ty quickly sitting up on one end of the couch, rubbing his cheek. The leather had imprinted in it, and it was clear he’d been asleep. Across from him, the TV played, but the sound was set to mute, and the local news flashed on the screen.

  I stepped forward and gave him a bewildered look. “What are you doing sleeping on the couch?”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face again and stared at my polka-dotted panties. Then he shook his head and reached for the remote to click off the TV. “You were so upset. I didn’t want to leave you alone, so I thought I’d hang out in the living room in case you woke up.”

  I crossed the small living room and thumped down on the couch across from him, tucking my legs under me. “Thanks. That’s sweet of you.”

  “It’s not sweet,” he said. “I’d be a real dick if I just ignored your crying.”

  “Well, I did shut you out of my room,” I said easily, feeling warm at hearing his words. For a big bruiser, Ty sure was thoughtful. “But…thank you.”

  His gaze slid over my bare legs again. “Yeah.” He sounded distracted.

  That was a wonderfully heady feeling. I stretched one leg out innocently toward him and wiggled my toes, just to see how he’d react.

  Ty got really still. “Zara. Maybe you should put some pants on or something.”

  I shifted my leg and wiggled my toes against his thigh. Big, strong thigh. Ty was big and strong everywhere, practically bulging with muscles. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” He rubbed his mouth and glanced at my bare legs again. “I’m just…human, you know? And if you’re not careful, you’re going to give me a boner. I’m just warning you.”

  “Well…” I grazed my toe along his thigh, considering. “Remember our kiss at the restaurant?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  My skin flushed with warmth at the way he said that. Glad to know I wasn’t the only one obsessing over that night, and wondering if I’d made the right choice. “The way I see it…we don’t have to worry about wrecking our juju anymore. We’re out of the competition. So…there’s nothing stopping us from kissing again. Or…more. We could always do more.” Dammit, virgin mouth, quit talking. “I’m not saying that I just want to kiss. I mean, if you want to just kiss, that’s fine with me, of course. But—”

  “Zara,” Ty said, and he hauled my smaller body into his lap with a swift motion. “Are you coming on to me?”

  Embarrassment flooded my body. “Not if you don’t want me to—”

  His fingers touched my chin. “You know how I said I might get a boner? Already kinda have one. Have one every time you’re around. You sitting here in your panties? Fucking killing me.”

  I scooted closer, my legs pulled over his lap, and I ran a hand along the thick muscles at his neck and shoulder. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “Make you feel better?” He looked at me like I was crazy. “There are a lot of reasons I’d have a boner, but Pity-Boner is not on the list.”

  “Just…making sure.”

  His hand ran down my arm. “For a girl that’s so confident on the ice, you sure are skittish in a guy’s arms.”

  Oh god, was I that obvious? How mortifying. “Everyone’s got to have a first time at some point.”

  Ty froze, his hand cupping my elbow. His gaze locked on mine. “What did you just say?”

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Um, nothing.”

  He practically recoiled. “Your first time? Zara…you’re not really underage are you? Because if I’ve been creeping on a fourteen-year-old, I’m never going to forgive myself—”

  “No!” I smacked him on the shoulder, hard. “I’m twenty fucking five! Do you want to see my driver’s license?”

  “I almost do,” he said, eyeing me. “What kind of twenty-five-year-old hasn’t had sex in this day and age?”

  I started to crawl off his lap. “You know what? Never mind—”

  “Oh no you don’t,” he told me, grabbing me as I started to get up and dragging me back into his lap again. This time, he sat me fully on his lap, my bottom pressing against him, and I could feel the thick erection in his pants. It made me breathless. One thick arm trapped me around the waist. “Now, explain. Why are you still a virgin, Zara?”

  “How many guys do you think I got to hang out with while spending fourteen hours a day on the ice rink? I was homeschooled.”

  “Yeah, but didn’t you crash out at fourteen or something? What after that? You still didn’t date?”

  “I…kind of had some self-esteem issues after that.” There had been years of self-loathing in there. “Pair that in with the fact that the only jobs I remotely qualify for involve ice skating, and there weren’t exactly a lot of opportunities to hook up.”

  “Didn’t you ever just go out and let your hair down? Hang out with friends at a club? Meet guys there?”

  I said nothing. Naomi was my best and closest friend, and the reason why we got along so well was because we were both socially backward. If I was on the ice fourteen hours a day, Naomi had her nose shoved in a book for an equal amount of time. “Not really good with meeting guys,” I said in a terse voice.

  “Christ,” Ty said, and he lightly tapped his forehead against my back repeatedly, mimicking banging his head against a wall. “A virgin. I so did not need this.”

  I tried to squirm out of his arms. “You dick. Aren’t guys supposed to be excited when a chick’s a virgin?”

  “Why? I thought we were going to have some sexy, no-strings-attached sex. Now I have to freak out about hurting you because you’re a fucking flea, and I’m a big guy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what? This is really killing my mood right now. Forget I said anything.” I tried to get up again.

  He pulled me back down once more, and I thumped back onto his lap, earning a small groan from him. “You sure as shit can’t go now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re killing me.” His hand stroked along the outside of my bare thigh. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are right now? In a t-shirt and these little panties? And to know that you’re a virgin? It’s a total turn on, and utterly terrifying at the same time.”

  “How do you think I feel?” I asked quietly. My body was stiff on his lap, but all of my attention was on the hand gliding up and down the outside of my thigh: warm, hard, and utterly captivating. He was callused, the pads of his fingers rough, but I liked that. They were hands that were good at what they did. They matched Ty—a little coarse and uncouth, but tender.

  Sexy, no-strings-attached sex? I wanted sex, but I wasn’t sure how good I’d be at the ‘no-strings-attached’ part. He was going to be my first. That mentally had me all goofy already.

  His big hand cupped my knee, and then his mouth pressed against my shou
lder, through my shirt. “Zara,” he murmured.

  “You’re not going to ask to see my ID again, are you?” I asked, my voice shaky with nerves and desire.

  “Nah. I was just giving you a hard time. I watched your Olympics reel on YouTube.” He brushed his lips over my shoulder. “When you were fourteen, you looked like you were eight.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So what were you going to say, then?”

  His hand moved from my knee and slid up to the hem of my t-shirt. “I was going to ask you if you’d take this off.”

  The breath sucked out of my lungs.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  She wanted this so badly, and I wanted to get it for her. — Ty Randall, to his manager

  ~~ * ~~

  He was leaving sex up to me.

  If I said no, we’d probably cuddle on the couch for a few hours, mope about our loss, and then go our separate ways in the morning. No harm, no foul. I’d remain a virgin, and Ty would forget all about me.

  Or I could take a chance and pull my shirt over my head and have a really amazing memory of Ty in bed together with me. We could make love all night long and leave the competition on a mental high note, even if we didn’t win.

  I knew which one I wanted.

  My hands went to my shirt and I hesitated for a moment, and then I sucked in a deep breath. Now or never. I tore my top over my head and tossed it to the ground, and then waited, feeling naked and vulnerable as I straddled Ty Randall’s thighs in nothing but a pair of polka dot bikini panties. My shoulders tensed, my back was to him, and I waited for him to do something. Say something. Anything.

  One big hand touched my back, and I nearly jumped out of my skin with nervousness. Ty chuckled, the sound low and soothing, and I relaxed at the sound. His fingertips lightly skimmed the rigid line of my back, tracing it. “You’re very small,” he told me.

  I rolled my eyes. How often was he going to bring that up? “I’m not that small.”

  “You’re what, five foot?”

  “Five foot three,” I told him pertly.

  “And a hundred and two pounds. That’s small. You’re not even a flyweight by MMA standards.”