Cold War: Figure Skating Gay Romance

by Keira Andrews

  “Kisa Kostina and Mikhail Reznikov are currently in first place.”

  “It’s less than two points. That’s nothing. She held up through the short, but four and a half minutes will be another matter,” Louise said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “You’re in the perfect position.”

  Dev couldn’t help but think that first place was the perfect position, but he nodded. Kisa and Misha went by with their coaches, Kisa still in obvious pain, Misha supporting her gently. He was sweaty and beautiful and Dev’s heart clenched despite himself. Maybe he and Misha should talk and—

  No! Enough!

  Not Misha. He was Mikhail, Dev’s rival. Dev couldn’t think about what would happen to Mikhail if he didn’t win. It wasn’t Dev’s problem. It couldn’t be. Dev and Bailey were thisclose to realizing their lifelong dream, and he couldn’t give up now.

  Chapter Eight

  The tension in the dressing room the next night was so thick Dev felt as though he was swimming in it. Or more accurately drowning in it. His heart rate was all over the place and he needed to breathe. But it was easier said than done when the four men in the room who would be skating in the final flight were all aiming for the podium. For the gold.

  Of course add in the completely fucked-up whatever that was happening between Dev and Misha—no. Mikhail. It was enough to make him want to tear off his costume and run. Possibly screaming and waving his arms.

  Roger, usually so talkative, gave Dev a stiff smile before leaving. He and his partner were in third place and four points back of Dev and Bailey. The rest of the teams down to sixth were separated by less than two points. Anything could happen. Dev’s stomach churned. They still had to deliver. There was no guarantee they’d stay on the podium, let alone win. They had to be perfect.

  Leading up to an event, Dev knew exactly what and when to eat, how to practice, and how much sleep to get. Before the short program he’d allowed himself to be distracted, but in the last day everything else had fallen away and he’d zeroed in on preparing for the long program. This was the most important night of his life, and nothing else could interfere.

  Admittedly it had helped that with the shuffling of group order for practices, he hadn’t seen Mikhail until now. Dev tucked his elephant charm under his navy shirt and adjusted his white cravat. Without a glance at any of the remaining skaters, he walked to the door. As he left, he thought he could feel a searing gaze on his back, but it was surely his imagination.

  In the backstage area, Bailey was resplendent in her high-necked navy dress. Along with the white trim, it was subtly shot through with silver thread that caught the light and matched her gleaming earrings, simple Celtic knots. It was often said that in pairs skating, the man was the stem and the woman the flower, or he the frame and she the picture. In every movement, Dev aimed to display Bailey at her most beautiful and elegant, and she certainly made his job easy. He kissed her cheek.

  While Louise stood a few feet away, giving them their space to prepare, Bailey jumped up and down a few times and then raised her hands for patty-cake. They whipped through their pattern at record speed, repeating it four times before Bailey stepped into his arms. No words were necessary, and he held her tightly.

  By the time they took the ice for their performance, Dev was strangely calm. At the Olympics the long program was skated in reverse order of the standings from the short, putting them second to last. Only two teams in the top ten had made mistakes, and the arena hummed with the positive energy that clean skates created. They just needed to ride that wave. Of course on the flipside, even one mistake could knock them off the podium.

  The first time their choreographer played the Jane Eyre score for them, Dev and Bailey had fallen in love with it immediately. Although lyrics were permitted in all the skating disciplines now, they both agreed they wanted to go traditional. The fact that somehow it had never been skated to sealed the deal. In any given season there were multiple Carmens, Phantoms, Swan Lakes, and Sleeping Beauties across the disciplines, and while their short program music had been used in the past, they wanted something for the long that was solely theirs. It was their signature program.

  As the cheers from the crowd faded, he placed his hand on Bailey’s shoulder for their starting position. Standing behind her, he was the imposing Mr. Rochester to her young governess Jane. Bailey kept her gaze on the ice.

  This is it. This is my moment. I just have to take it.

  The music began, and in unison, Dev’s hand still on Bailey’s shoulder, they pushed off into a simple glide with free legs extended. Recorded by a small orchestra with hardly any brass or percussion, the score highlighted piano and especially violin solos. Their selection began sweet and forlorn as they moved into a spiral step sequence. Moving with the music, letting it flow through him in every pore, Dev performed the steps they’d practiced over and over again since the summer.

  They gathered speed for their triple toe/double toe combinations, and the crowd exploded when they landed in perfect unison. Adrenaline pumping through him, Dev breathed as they set up for the twist. He caught Bailey above his shoulders and set her down smoothly.

  They skated with speed and grace, and when the slow section at the midpoint began, Dev caressed Bailey’s cheek and she gazed at him with wide, beseeching eyes. They were Rochester and Jane, torn apart by deception. They caught their breath with a back-outside death spiral, Bailey’s free leg in the air and back arched exquisitely. They moved into their side-by-side spins as a plaintive violin solo filled the arena.

  We’re doing it. We’re doing it! Focus, focus, focus.

  When the tempo and power of the music built again, Dev put his hands on Bailey’s waist and they prepared for their first throw. It was past the halfway point of their program when all jumps, throws and lifts received a 10 percent bonus in the marks. He launched her into the air, and she spun tightly, muscling out the landing and having to touch her free leg down to keep her balance. It was a small mistake, and there was no time to think of it because they were headed into their triple Salchows.

  Bam! Nailed them.

  Heart pumping, Dev hoisted Bailey up smoothly, his arms burning but making it look as if she weighed nothing at all in the first of their three lifts, all in the last half to maximize points. He reversed the rotation halfway through the lift for extra points, keeping the momentum going with every fiber of his being.

  Violins soared for the second throw, and this time Bailey landed perfectly with a smile splitting her face, arms to the heavens. Into their next lift, they were Rochester and Jane—reunited! The violins were joyful, the score swelling as they flew into their pairs combination spin, contorting themselves around each other in various positions as they spun.

  One more element. Go, go, go!

  With the crowd already cheering, Dev could barely hear the music as he and Bailey both skated into their last lift, a backward lasso. Dev lifted her above his head and they moved to a one-handed position, Bailey gripping Dev’s hand at her belly as she reached behind with her other hand to hook her skate blade and lift her foot high. Dev’s legs screamed, the lactic acid searing his muscles as he pushed himself to his limit.

  He set Bailey down with one hand, and they stroked with back crossovers around the corner of the rink as the violins crescendoed. Dev slid to his knee and lifted his arms to Bailey, pressing his face to her breasts as he hugged her desperately. She gazed to the heavens on the last beat of the music, one leg extended behind her on the ice.

  The audience erupted, and Dev gasped for breath, clinging to Bailey.

  We did it.

  Bailey leaned over him, hugging him as she panted, her chest heaving. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” she muttered.

  “We did it, B.” Dev pushed to his feet and swung her around.

  The crowd was on its feet, whistling and screaming, and as Dev and Bailey skated to center ice for their bows, Dev had to blink back tears. They bowed to each side of the arena, smiling and waving. Dev knew he should
be exhausted, but it was as if he were skating on air as they made their way to the Kiss and Cry.

  Louise pumped her fist. “That’s how it’s done.” She tackled them in hugs before they could even put on their guards and get off the ice.

  The crowd was still cheering, and Dev could barely sit down, instead perching on the edge of the bench in the Kiss and Cry as the flowers and toys began arriving. He shouted to his family and friends, and he and Bailey hugged and kissed again, Bailey slapping his knee.

  “Oh my God,” she repeated, wiping the sweat from her brow.

  The wait for the scores was even more torturous, and the crowd began clapping in rhythm, the whole arena echoing with it as they waited for the announcer’s voice.

  “The scores please for Bailey Robinson and Dev Avira of the United States of America.”

  Dev’s breath lodged in his throat, and Bailey’s fingers dug into his thigh.

  “The free skate score please.”

  Yes, yes—GIVE US THE FUCKING SCORE!

  “They have earned 158.76 points in the free skate. This is a new personal best for Bailey Robinson and Dev Avira.”

  Dev and Bailey leaped to their feet in unison, arms thrust high, screaming their joy. Dev shouted, “Yes! Yes!” They hugged again, spinning and laughing and yanking a beaming Louise up to join them.

  “Bailey Robinson and Dev Avira are currently in first place.”

  They’d beaten the Canadians, and a silver medal was guaranteed. But it could still be gold. The only team that could beat them were on the ice, waiting for the pandemonium to die down. Dev watched as Mikhail and Kisa stood ramrod straight, shoulders down, heads high as they waited by the boards for their names to be called.

  For a moment, he thought of the freedom this gold medal represented for Misha, and the urge to wish him luck swelled in Dev’s chest.

  “Jesus, I can’t watch. Let’s go hide,” Bailey said as they picked up their gifts and went beyond the curtain.

  But there would be no hiding as the federation well-wishers swept them up into hugs and chatter and other skaters congratulated them—some more genuinely than others. Dev’s heart thumped as Firebird filled the arena.

  As Stravinsky’s music began, a wave of feeling seemed to wash from the audience to the people backstage. The chatter died and all eyes turned to the monitors. Standing behind Bailey, Dev held on to her shoulders, grounding them both. He could feel the tension in her body that matched his own as the triple twist exploded high into the air. It was the best in the world, there was no question.

  As Mikhail and Kisa went into their triple-double combinations, Dev was very aware of the TV crew filming them as they watched, and he kept his expression neutral. As they landed perfectly, Dev was torn between disappointment and pride. God, he wanted to win so badly, but what Mikhail and Kisa were doing was remarkable.

  The feeling grew as the flawless performance continued. Maybe it was the pain and upset of the collision and injury, but to Dev’s eyes, Misha—Mikhail, Mikhail, Mikhail—and Kisa were finally skating with a passion and true connection to match their technical brilliance. While the judges had always overscored them on their program components, for the first time Dev really felt as though they were earning them.

  Their last element was a throw in the final moments of their program—a huge risk that could pay dividends if Kisa landed it, and mar the program completely if she missed. This one jump would make the difference. As she spun into the air, so high her feet were above the boards, Dev could feel the thousands of people in the arena holding their breath as one.

  On a beautiful edge with a deep knee bend, Kisa glided into her landing. The crowd erupted.

  All Dev could do was squeeze Bailey’s shoulders and watch. After hitting the final pose, Kisa doubled over in obvious agony, her hands on her knees. As Misha leaned down and kissed her head with tears in his eyes, Dev’s heart clenched. Through his haze of disappointment, a wave of affection for Misha and admiration for Kisa washed over him. Their performance would go down in the history books.

  With a smile in place, Bailey tugged Dev’s hand. “Let’s go get ready for the ceremony,” she said loudly in a decidedly perky tone.

  They waved to the cameras and gave thumbs-up to all the folks at home as they escaped down the hallway to the dressing rooms. They didn’t need to hear the scores. They’d done their best, but it wasn’t enough. As reality set in, Dev flip-flopped between numb acceptance and bitter disappointment.

  In a far dark corner out of sight of the cameras, Bailey blinked back tears. “It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. We had it, Dev. We had it! Just once, why couldn’t we be better? We worked so hard.” She shook her head. “God damn it. They were perfect.” Her shoulders slumped. “They really were. I don’t know how she did it. And maybe tomorrow I’ll think it was amazing. But tonight it hurts so much to come so close.”

  “We did everything we could. We did our best, Bailey.”

  Her lip trembled. “I put my foot down on that throw.”

  “Shh.” Dev held her close. “That was one point. Forget it.”

  “That might have been the difference, Dev! I mean, I know it wasn’t. I know they’re going to put up a new world record for that. But I still wanted to be perfect. God, I just want to go home and cry.” She breathed deeply and pulled back. “But I can’t, because we’ve got to go get our silver medal and smile and pretend we’re not dying inside.” She tried to smile and failed miserably, her eyes glistening. “And maybe tomorrow the silver won’t seem so bad. But tonight it feels like someone carved out my insides with a rusty spoon.”

  Dev nodded miserably. “But I’m proud of you. Proud of us. We did our best ever. It was pretty damn close to perfect. Gordeeva and Grinkov had four little mistakes when they won gold again in ’94, and that was one of the greatest long programs ever. You know how hard perfect is in this sport.”

  “Exactly,” Louise said, appearing behind them.

  “God!” Bailey put her hand to her chest. “Don’t do that!”

  But it broke the tension, and they all laughed a little. Dev asked, “What was the final score?”

  “They won by less than four points. That’s the closest it’s ever been between you guys. You should be proud. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but this is a victory.”

  “See?” Dev raised an eyebrow at Bailey. “The throw didn’t matter. They would have beaten us anyway.”

  Bailey took a tissue from Louise and blew her nose loudly. “Okay.”

  “Celebrate all the things you did right. I know it’s hard, but you set a personal best at the Olympic Games.”

  “We couldn’t have done it without you, Lou. Thank you,” Dev said, swallowing thickly.

  Bailey nodded vigorously and drew them both into another hug. “I love you both.” She pulled back and swiped at her eyes. “Okay, enough mushy stuff because my mascara is going to run all over the place!”

  “Go fix it up. You’ve got time. Kisa’s with the medics. That was a real Keri Strug moment at the end. The media’s having a masturbatory field day about her grit and determination. I’d roll my eyes, but she earned the hell out of it.” She clapped their shoulders. “All right, game faces on. This will feel like the longest medal ceremony of your lives, but remember that very few skaters ever get to stand on an Olympic podium. Hold your heads high and try to enjoy it, even a little bit.”

  They played their roles as required, as skaters always did. Aside from that one time—but Dev wasn’t about to take off his silver medal in protest on the podium and make an ass of himself. Especially since he’d been beaten fair and square. The ceremony was almost like an out-of-body experience, with the only real, electric moment coming when he approached the podium to congratulate the winners.

  In that instant Dev knew without a doubt that the man in front of him would never be Mikhail again. As their eyes met, Dev felt a surge of emotions he couldn’t begin to parse, from a trace of bitterness to pride to l
ust to a devastating sense of longing that weakened his knees. Mikhail had been the man he’d gone to war against.

  Now Misha was the man he was falling in love with.

  He took Misha’s hand, shivering at the flare of heat that shot through his body. He wanted to say a thousand things. He wanted to talk all night. He wanted to talk for days. Instead he merely nodded. “Congratulations.”

  Misha held his hand longer than he should have, his gaze intense. “Thank you.”

  Dev let go and climbed onto the second tier of the podium with his greatest desires inches away but beyond his grasp.

  Chapter Nine

  “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Dev blinked and groaned. “Didn’t we lock that door?”

  “No, actually, you didn’t,” Bailey said as she breezed inside and stood by Dev’s bed with hands on hips.

  Andrew burrowed under his duvet. “Again, I could have been naked,” he muttered. “Maybe you want to see me naked.”

  “I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Okay, here’s the situation, D. For the past three days, we’ve been moping around and eating our feelings and crying all our tears. Time to make that glass half-full. And not with booze. No, we didn’t win gold. But an Olympic silver medal is pretty fantastic. I admit I’m not sure I really feel that yet.” She pressed her chest. “You know, in my soul? But I figure if we say it a lot, it’ll become like muscle memory and we’ll start to believe it.” She yanked off Dev’s duvet.

  “Can’t I wallow in another hour of sleep?” Dev knew he was whining but couldn’t help it. He reached for the covers, shivering in his boxer briefs.

  “The time for wallowing is through. We’re going for a run to get those endorphins flowing. No sausage and egg McMuffin again for breakfast this morning. Even though I really, really want one. No. It’s back to bran and eggs, my friend. We need to get our shit together. We got beaten, and it sucks. But that’s the way this sport goes. That’s the way every sport goes. They were better. They rocked it, and Kisa Kostina is going to inspire a new generation of girls to be fierce. If we had to get beaten, I’m glad it was in style.”