It was Ivan that answered as he shifted around on the bench. “Four hours at four in the morning at the LC, and a three hour workout at one in the afternoon.”
Shit.
That would only leave me four hours to work and that was going to be cutting it close, but I couldn’t quit. I wouldn’t. Maybe I could pick up a shift here or there too on my day off. I’d make it work. Somehow.
I managed to nod before I caught on to something he said. “You said at the LC. Are there going to be more practices somewhere else?”
Coach Lee didn’t even try to hide the glance she cast in Ivan’s direction. A glance that again put me on edge. I hated secrets and secret looks. I wanted to ask what those faces were for but decided to wait. Patience. I could be patient. If I tried really hard.
Luckily, she didn’t make me wait long. “You understand we’ve discussed your strengths and weaknesses before we asked you to join the team?”
“Yeah.” Did I like that they had talked about me? No. But it was part of it, and I couldn’t hold it against them. Before I’d gotten to this point of desperation, I would have done the same.
“You’re a strong athlete, Jasmine,” she started to say, and I made sure I had my armor on so I could handle whatever non-compliment was going to eventually come out of her mouth. That’s what coaches did. They tore apart all the things you were bad at and helped you try to fix them. At least that was the goal. “I’ve always thought you had an amazing amount of potential—”
A “but” was about to come out of her mouth. I could feel it. There was always a “but” when someone paid you a compliment.
Maybe it was just me.
I kept my face even, but it was a little harder than I would have wanted it to be.
“But there are things you can work on to take it to the next level, specifically your showmanship. I’ve spoken to Galina in the past, and she confirmed that you didn’t have a heavy amount of training in ballet. I think your skating would really benefit from it.”
When the hell had she spoken to Galina?
“We want you to take some one-on-one training with the instructor Ivan has used in the past to tweak a few bad habits—”
Bad habits?
“—and work on improving what’s already good but could be better. Apart from that, you will be taking lessons with Ivan at the same time. There’s always room for improvement. I’m sure you’re familiar with that.”
Was she saying that just to make me feel better about basically telling me that I had none of the grace that came from having a serious background in ballet? It wasn’t like I didn’t know that Ivan did. Karina had only taken figure skating lessons up until she was fourteen—which was how we had met—but she had focused on dance before and afterward. Plus, there was something really elegant and graceful about Ivan’s movements that could only come from a ballet instructor with a drill sergeant’s heart. He’d had the money. He could afford someone to teach him everything he needed to know.
My mom had been able to afford two group lessons a week for an hour each, so that’s what I had done for years. I wasn’t going to apologize for it. And I’d said I would do whatever I needed to make this work. So, all I said was, “Okay.”
The corners of Coach Lee’s mouth tightened for a moment before her expression went back to normal. “Good. I’ll call tomorrow and see what’s available so you can pick the times that work for you on your schedule. Ivan attends Monday and Saturday mornings from nine until eleven. Will that be a problem?”
It was, but I would have to make it work. I was going to end up quitting my job and stripping. Jesus Christ. “No, not a problem.” My stomach hurt for a moment, but I shoved it aside and focused on what was important. “I also take a Pilates class once a week to work on my flexibility. I’m planning on still taking it.”
“Good, keep doing that,” the woman replied with a slow nod.
I tried to put all my thoughts in order. “What do you want the season to look like?” I asked.
It was Ivan that answered. “We’ll do the Discovery Series, the Major Prix, nationals, and worlds.” He blinked. “We can skip the rest.”
I did the math in my head and swallowed back the nerves at the realization that would be seven different events we would be competing in. At least. Two or three competitions in the Discovery Series. Three in the Major Prix, if we made it to the final. Then one each for nationals and worlds.
Money. Money. Money. And more money.
But I didn’t even care. All the more chances to win.
Or fail, that negative-ass voice in my head whispered until I shoved it away. I needed to stop thinking that way. It hadn’t done me any good ever before, and it never would. I couldn’t get psyched out so early.
“Okay,” I got out with another nod, feeling this tightness in my chest that I didn’t love.
Coach Lee dipped her own chin down. “Now that that’s all sorted, can you start tomorrow?”
Tomorrow? Fuck.
I was too worried about my voice being all high and pitchy and giving away how overwhelmed I was at what was happening, that I decided to keep my mouth shut and nod again. I was going to need to talk to my boss today. Holy shit.
“Is that it then? You don’t want me to do a tryout?” I asked, just to be sure.
“That’s it,” she confirmed. The expression on Coach Lee’s face wasn’t exactly a smile, but she looked… pleased. She extended her hand out in my direction, and I took it. “Good. Tomorrow we get to work then. I’ll schedule your physical today and let you know where to go and what time.”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed on an exhale, feeling this weight lift off my chest for all of a second before crashing back down. Feeling heavy, I pulled my hand back to my side and turned to where Ivan had been sitting the entire time. He hadn’t moved. His elbows were still on his knees, hands hanging loosely between his legs, and his attention was still on me. That long, blunt line of his jaw was set firmly, and it was an expression I’d seen enough.
I had a feeling it was one I was going to keep on seeing a whole lot of over the next year.
The next year. Shit.
I had told Coach Lee we could get past this, or at least put up with each other, and I wasn’t about to back down or take my word back. I wasn’t going to screw this up for myself. I could be the better person… and thinking about it like that put a smile on my face.
Hesitating for a just a moment, I extended my hand out toward him.
And it hovered there. For a second. For two seconds. For three seconds.
Three more seconds and I was going to slap him in the face.
Ivan was watching me in return as he stood up, going up to that full height that put him at an inch shy of being a foot taller than me… and he slipped his hand into mine for the first time ever.
His eyes met mine, and I knew what he was thinking because I was thinking the same thing.
Once—just once—years ago, I’d fallen badly after a jump. He had been on the rink with me at the same time. I’d been lying there on the ice, blinking up at the rafters, trying to catch my breath because even my brain had hurt after hitting the ice so hard. This bitch had skated up to me for some reason. And he’d stretched his hand out toward me, looking down at me with a smirk on his face.
I hadn’t been thinking. All I’d seen was a hand reaching out toward me, so I’d tried to take it. Like an idiot.
My fingers had probably been inches away from Ivan’s when he’d snatched his hand back, smirked even wider, and left me there. On the ice. Just like that.
Bitch.
So he could only blame himself when it took me a minute to close my fingers around his, giving him a look the whole time, expecting the worst. But nothing happened. His palm was cold and wide, and his fingers were longer than I’d expected. In all the years we’d gravitated around each other, we’d never touched except for the one Thanksgiving I’d spent at his family’s house and he’d sat beside me and had taken my hand during th
eir prayer. We spent the whole three minutes squeezing each other’s hands as hard as we could, at least until Karina had kicked him under the table, probably seeing my fingertips going white.
If he was expecting me to say something, he was going to be waiting forever because there was nothing I needed to say to him. Okay, maybe I just didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid before we were too deep into this to go back. Apparently, there was nothing he needed to say to me either. Fine by me.
That was the good thing about figure skating. You didn’t have to talk to do it.
Ivan gave my fingers a hard squeeze.
And I squeezed his as hard as I could right back.
Chapter 5
I’d forgotten how much it hurt to get dropped.
“Are you all right?” came Coach Lee’s voice from… somewhere.
I had my eyes closed as I lay there, thankful for the fact that someone had decided at some point in history that the world needed cushioned mats. Because if it weren’t for cushioned mats—even if they were only an inch thick—I probably would have broken three times as many bones as I had in my life.
But still.
Fuck.
I tried to take a breath, but from the sting of it, my lungs were still in shock from Ivan’s hands slipping—or whatever the fuck had happened—resulting in me falling from close to eight or nine feet in the air and landing right on my goddamn back.
Fuck.
“I’m fine,” I half whispered, half wheezed out, trying to take another inhale but only being able to take a baby-sized one that wasn’t anywhere near enough.
Gulping, I tried to take another breath and only managed half of one before my spine went “Not yet, sucker.” Dragging my bare heels across the mats, I planted my feet on the floor and attempted to take another breath, a little more successful that time. The good thing was: my ribs weren’t broken. The other good thing was: at least he’d dropped me on here and not the ice, which felt like the equivalent of cement when you hit it.
I swallowed again, took another breath, and when that went well, I reminded myself this was nothing. Not really, at least.
I opened my eyes and immediately spotted the big hand that had held me high above the floor—the big hand that had wobbled and dropped me—extended in my direction.
For a second, I thought about taking the hand offering me help, but then remembered the other time he’d done the same thing. I shook my head and rolled up onto my butt on my own. “I’m fine,” I muttered, only wincing with my entire face as I did it.
“You need a minute?” Coach Lee asked from her spot off the mats as I shifted onto my knees and slowly climbed up onto my feet, taking a couple more breaths that only slightly made my back ache. I was going to feel it tomorrow for sure.
“I’m fine. Let’s do it again.” I waved her off as I tipped my head back and took another breath to catch the one the fall had taken from me. When my breathing was back under control and I was ready to go, I turned to face my brand-new partner of all of four hours.
Four hours.
We’d spent that morning doing basics, and I meant the most basic of basics. I hadn’t slept well the night before, mostly because of the anticipation of what was coming the next morning—our first practice—but when I woke up, I’d been ready.
When we’d met up beside the rink at four in the morning, I’d already had a black L on the top of my left hand and a red R on my right hand; I’d warmed up on my own and so had he. Coach Lee had started us off skating laps side by side… for hours. All to find our rhythm together. His legs were longer than mine, but we both listened to Coach Lee’s corrections, kept our mouths shut, and it had worked out. I didn’t even think we looked at each other’s faces, we were so busy focusing on our feet… and only a couple of times did I have to glance at my hands.
And when she’d told us to hold hands and do it all over again, we did it. Then we just did it over and over again, holding hands and not holding hands until we got it right. Baby steps, but they were important. These were all things we should have figured out if we’d done a tryout.
So when we got to the rink that afternoon after I’d gone to work—and explained to my boss that I was going to have to work less hours from here on out—Coach Lee had told us we’d start off working on lifts on the mats, I’d been pretty pumped to move forward a little more.
At least until his hold got weird as he had me in a carry lift—his hands on the spot between my lower stomach and right above my groin, his arms locked straight above his six-foot-two head, while I had my legs together and extended, back arched and head held high. I’d done it a thousand times before with my ex-partner.
But just like I’d forgotten how much it hurt to fall, I forgot how every lifting partner had a different way they liked to hold. Or so I’d been told. I had only had one partner in my short and shit pairs career.
Maybe I weighed more than Ivan’s last partner.
“Let me see where you’re putting your hands, Ivan,” Coach Lee called out. “Then push up as slow as you can do it, so I can see Jasmine’s movement too.”
Nodding, I made myself look up at Ivan after I got into position directly in front of him. In his fitted and tapered gray sweatpants and a T-shirt so white it might have been brand new, his hair was combed and parted in that perfect way it always was, he looked more like he was about to do a modeling shoot for sweatpants than to actually work out.
With his chin to his throat, he looked down at me with those almost clear gray-blue eyes and nodded at me like “let’s do it.” We hadn’t said anything to each other so far. We hadn’t even mouthed anything either.
Yet.
I dropped my chin to my throat too, to tell him “let’s do it.” So we did. His hands went into position in a place that I hadn’t let very many guys touch me, and we went into it.
I knew the second he had me at about his head level that something was wrong, and I needed to figure out what it was.
“What is it?” Coach Lee asked, like she read my mind.
“His palm is weird,” I told her immediately, trying not to squirm too much before I ended up on the floor again.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Ivan claimed from under me, sounding just as insulted as I figured he would.
I rolled my eyes. I had promised I wouldn’t talk shit, that didn’t mean I couldn’t roll my eyes, especially not when he couldn’t see me.
“I don’t know what it is. I think his hands are bigger—” I started to tell Coach Lee before the man under me made a snickering sound that had me rolling my eyes again. “It feels strange.” The lift went as high as it could possibly go, and I was in the same position I’d been in when he’d let me fall. I sucked in my stomach and grit my teeth, tensing my biceps as I tried to move the weight around a little on my palms and fingers. I could do this.
“I know what I’m doing,” came the idiot under me.
“I’ll get used to it,” I told Coach Lee, pretending like I didn’t hear Ivan.
“Put her down and do it again,” the other woman said.
And Ivan did, lowering me to the ground a lot faster and not as carefully as he could have. Fucker. I glared up at him, but he was too busy looking at Coach Lee to notice.
We did it again.
Again and again and again.
That was all we did for the next three hours, the entrance into the lift one time after another and after another, until it stopped feeling so different… and my arms—and Ivan’s—were shaking with exhaustion. My shoulders were sore, and I couldn’t imagine what his had to feel like. But neither one of us complained or asked for a break.
By the time four o’clock rolled around, ab muscles I’d forgotten I had were exhausted, and I was 90 percent sure I’d have a giant bruise on my stomach the next day.
“One more time and we’ll call it a day,” Coach said from the spot she’d taken sitting cross-legged on the mat a few feet away from the circle of space Ivan and I had been wo
rking in. We hadn’t even gotten to the point where he was walking with me over his head yet; we were still just doing the same lift.
I didn’t look up as I took a step back before leaning forward at the same time Ivan’s hands went into position. And he raised me, a little more swiftly even though I knew he had to be tired, a little easier and consistent. It lasted all of twenty seconds before I was back on my feet, biting back a grimace at the ache coming from my abs. I was going to need to apply the arnica ointment in my bag the second after I showered so I wouldn’t be dying tomorrow.
“Ice your stomach tonight, Jasmine. We can’t afford you being in pain,” Coach Lee called out almost immediately after I landed on both feet. I looked at her and gave a nod. “Good work today.”
Was it? Part of me thought it would have gone better, or at least faster, but it wasn’t like I had anything or anyone else to compare to. I wasn’t going to let myself get overwhelmed. One step at a time. I knew that. One small step at a time, to build another step and another until we had an entire staircase.
“Rest, ice what you need to ice, and I’ll see you both tomorrow,” the other woman called out. I already knew from experience that she had her younger figure skaters she usually focused on once Ivan’s season was done. I watched her as she turned around and then was gone.
Okay.
I didn’t want to stand around talking either.
Raising my eyebrows to myself, I headed toward where I’d kicked off my shoes and socks. The silence in the huge room was weird; it was one of a couple of different practice spaces set up at the LC that any skater was free to use. Bending at the waist, I grabbed both socks and slipped each one on, noticing I had a chip in my hot pink nail polish on my big toe. Maybe tonight I could redo them if bending over didn’t make me tear up. The color never lasted longer than a couple of days at a time, and they especially wouldn’t with this new training schedule, but I liked having them painted. I liked getting pedicures more than doing them myself, but that wasn’t going to be happening again.
From Lukov with Love Page 10