Chapter 6

 

Kelly

 

I didn’t know why Blake was at the game in the first place, but I had a feeling it had something to do with my floppy haired skating partner. The one who smiled like a Cheshire cat as we waited near the locker room for Becca to get out and head to dinner.

“It seems your new boyfriend and Dad are bonding. What do you think they’re talking about?” Logan asked, nudging my elbow then pointing his chin toward where Blake and Dad were laughing.

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Logan shook his head. “Come on. You know you wanted him here.”

I scoffed. “Did not.”

“Well, at least you wanted him here before you knew your parents were going to get in earlier than expected. I thought your dad wasn’t coming anyway. Who is watching the cows?”

“I guess his new manager is watching them and he wanted to surprise Becca. Which was an even bigger surprise to me since dreadlocked wonder boy showed up,” I muttered the last part.

“Do you like him, Kel?”

Raising an eyebrow, I didn’t even look in Logan’s direction. “What?”

“I mean do you really like him? I haven’t seen you this fixed on a guy since that old partner of yours left. What was his name? British dude.”

“I don’t want to talk about Joe,” I muttered. “And why does it matter? He’s just here for The Games. We both are. Not like I’m going to fall in love or marry the guy.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about going to Canada for a wedding.” Logan laughed at his own joke, and I rolled my eyes.

“Just making sure if a guy is wasting this much time on you and you on him that it’s a good time wasted.”

I turned to face Logan. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Logan just grinned and looked past me at the girls coming out of the locker room. “I guess we’ll find out.”

 

***

 

Mom and Dad weren’t adventurous eaters, and Becca said she was so hungry she could eat an entire cow, so we all ended up crammed in a corner booth at McDonald's.

“Do they have McDonald's in Canada, Blake?” Mom asked, unwrapping her cheeseburger.

“Mom!” I hissed, looking at her across the table where she sat against the wall with Dad at her side. Becca was on the other side of Dad and Logan in between me and Becca with Blake on the end. Probably should have found a way not to have him so close to my mom.

Blake laughed. “Yeah. We do. I think they’re a little bit different than your American versions, but we do have them.”

“Tremblay. That last name sounds familiar,” Dad said in a gruff voice.

Blake hesitated with his burger in his hands. “It’s a popular Canadian name.”

Dad slapped his big bear paw of a hand on the table, causing all of us to jump and stare at him. “That’s why that name sounds familiar. You wouldn’t happen to be the son of them Canadian skiers? The ones who won more gold’s than any other winter Olympians and were in that gum commercial for years?”

For the first time, I saw Blake shrink in his seat. The guy always carried himself highly with a smile on his face and a laid-back attitude, but at the mention of his parents he was reserved and didn’t even try to hide it. “Yeah. Those are my parents.”

“Hot damn, they must be mighty proud of you for coming out to The Games, continuing their legacy like that. Hell, I think they were still skiing during Kelly’s first games. Breaking more world records before they retired,” Dwayne continued.

“Yeah. I think they might have been,” Blake muttered.

I wanted to ask him more about his parents and why he never brought them up. But then again, it’s not like we had many conversations that involved them after we talked about my dairy farming parents. I also hated to see Blake so reserved and not being the guy that was poking fun at me. Even though I acted like I hated it, there was something I liked about his little jabs. Something that made me feel normal.

“So, Blake, you ready for your event?” Becca asked, breaking the tension.

Blake smiled slightly. “Ready as I ever can be I guess. I’m not a star like Kelly, here.”

And just like that Blake turned the conversation off of him and back to me. Something I was usually comfortable with, but tonight I wanted to know more about Blake Tremblay. And I just had to figure out how I’d get to do that.

 

***

 

My parents headed back to their hotel after dinner to beat jet lag. Logan, Becca, Blake, and I all stood awkwardly in the parking lot.

“Hey, some of the girls from the team are drinking at the condo they rented just outside the village and asked if I wanted to join. I think I may stop in if that’s cool. Wanna come with?” Becca asked, looking between all of us.

“Sure. Couldn’t hurt,” Logan said.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” Blake said, which took me by surprise. Surely, I thought after all of his talk at the hockey game he’d want to get me out of my element. But the look of defeat from dinner after talking about his parents was still there. Something I shouldn’t have pried on, but I couldn’t have helped being captivated by the guy.

“You know I think I’m going to call it a night too, Blake, would you mind walking me to my dorm?” I asked, blinking slowly.

Blake licked his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Becca and Logan looked at each other before looking back to us. “Okay, behave you two,” Becca said over her shoulder before she and Logan started down the path in the opposite direction of our dorm.

“I’m this way,” I said quietly, pointing toward my dorm.

“Okay,” Blake said, nodding and walking in step with me.

We were quiet for a few beats before I let out a deep breath, letting it hang in the air as a cloud of smoke. “So, not a big fan of your parents?”

Blake laughed slightly, shaking his head. “What makes you say that?”

“The way you went from carefree guy to ice cold in a matter of seconds.” I smiled and nudged his shoulder. “The ice queen knows when a guy can turn to ice as well.”

That got a genuine smile out of him. “I guess it takes one to know one, huh?”

Without thinking, I looped my arm through his, my fingertips grazing against his jacket. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re bothered by them or am I going to have to take unflattering Instagram photos of you until I get it out?”

He laughed, his body tensing. “Not much to say. They’re Olympic royals, and I’m their kid who took way too long to get into The Games and a sport that wasn’t skiing.”

“Take it they’re hard on you?” I asked.

He let out a breath through his nose. “Yeah. You could say that. It sounds really stupid. I’m twenty-fucking-six-years-old and I let what my parents think get to me.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think that sounds stupid.”

“Yeah. To you. You have really great parents.”

“I didn’t always think that,” I muttered.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

I sighed. “Your parents may have always pushed you, but mine have been the opposite. They support me, yeah. But they’ve never really got it.”

“What do you mean?” Blake asked, his free hand finding its way to mine, stroking it while I curled my fingers around his bicep.

I shrugged. “I mean you had the parents that probably spent money and time on all of this training and mine didn’t even want to drive me to the rink. I had to beg my grandparents to drive me for the first few years of skating then finally my parents noticed I was really into it, so they signed Becca and me up together. But it was just local rink stuff. I had to beg for them to let me train in Lake Placid. I even saved up my own money to pay for part of my trip.”

“They do care, Kel. I can see that the way they looked so proudly at you and Becca.”

I blew a raspberry. “Yeah, now that I’m a multi-gold medalist and millionaire.”

“Better than being the Olympic legacy who didn’t get in until he was an old man.”

I bumped his shoulder. “You’re not an old man. If you are, then I’m practically geriatric.”

“I think I did see a gray hair tonight at dinner.”

I stopped and put my hand on my hair. “What? Where?”

Blake let go of me and turned with the smile finally returning to his face. “I’m kidding. Your hair is fine. Perfect,” he murmured, his hand going to my hair and running his gloved fingers through it.

“Um. This is my dorm,” I said, changing the subject and looking away, so I didn’t kiss him. I wanted to, so badly. But what if he didn’t kiss me back? What if all of this talk was just him being a nice guy?

He had to make the first move if he wanted this to be something more and I hoped he did.

Blake looked up. “Okay, I guess this is good night then. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Tomorrow.”

He leaned in, and I parted my lips, waiting. Then he smiled, and his mouth went to my cheek, giving me the softest kiss before whispering in my ear. “Night. Good luck charm.”

 

***

 

I always tried to catch at least some of the Olympic highlights on TV during the day. It was the easiest way to catch up on my competition, but I wasn’t expecting to see a beautiful set of blue eyes on the screen when I turned on the TV. The eyes that I looked into last night, wishing I would have given him a real kiss goodnight.

Not only was Blake on the screen, but his parents sitting next to him. It was the first time I’d actually seen parents appearing with their athlete this early in The Games, or at all, but I guess it was different when his were Olympic royalty.

They also weren’t what I was expecting. While Blake was wild with his dreadlocks, the tattoos poking out of his dress shirt, and a wicked smile, his parents were even more prim and proper than I was. His mother in her turtleneck and face that I swore didn’t move even when she smiled and his dad in a perfectly trimmed graying beard and matching sweater to his wife’s.

“So, Blake, what’s the scoop with you and Kelly Johnson and that Klake hashtag that’s been used over one million times?” A female, very smiley blonde reporter asked.

I widened my eyes, staring at the screen. Not just because Blake was looking especially good in his plaid button-down shirts and jeans, and I thought about how my sweater still smelled like his manly and woodsy scent. But because his face genuinely flushed when my name was brought up and our hashtag. One-million times?

I grabbed my phone off the dresser and turned it on, notification after notification from social media popping up. I didn’t even have this much on my feed when I made gold in Sochi.

Then I stared at the picture of us. Of his smile. And I thought of his arm around my waist; it seemed like those vibrant colored tattoos that went up, and down his arms radiated their own heat. He may have just been being playful, but I kept wondering how far those tattoos went up his arms. I may or may not have stalked his social media to get a better view of those tattoos. I was never one to care about ink on someone’s skin. It usually repulsed me. But on Blake, the swirling blues and whites creating a mountain landscape down each arm were a thing of beauty. One that I wanted to see in person.

“We’re both athletes, you know, here having a good time in the village,” Blake’s voice knocked me out of my phone trance.

“And? What else, Blake? That we’re the power couple like you said?” I found myself raising my voice as I stepped closer to the TV. What the hell? I didn’t care what we were. I was here for the gold, not to have a romance. My own words surprised me, yet I still found myself leaning toward the screen.

“Is that your way of avoiding the question?” the blonde reporter asked with a laugh.

“I think what Blake is trying to say is that he’s here to focus on The Games. Not romance,” his mother quipped with a haughty laugh.

“What do you know Canadian skier lady?” I found myself yelling at the TV like it was going to answer me back.

Blake smirked, visibly shrinking as his mother patted his knee. “I don’t know how the Canadians would feel if I were to say anything more about an American figure skater.”

“Okay, okay, we won’t force a war between Canada and the US, but know that this is one hashtag I think we’ll all be watching during The Games,” the blonde reporter said.

“I’ll make sure we keep posting then,” Blake added, a smile finally crossing his face.

“Now, Robert, Debra. How do you feel that your oldest and only son has finally made it to The Games?” The blonde reporter asked, turning her attention toward Blake’s parents.

Blake’s mom, who I assumed was Debra, laughed slightly, squeezing Blake’s knee. “Well, we’re just happy he’s here. And we hope he keeps his focus on the slopes.”

“Ugh!” I groaned, not wanting to see what else his parents had to say. They didn’t even know me, and they already seemed to hate me. Thinking I was some sort of a distraction. Or maybe I was reading into all of it.

“Ugh!” I groaned again. What does that all mean? Last night he was all talk about making bets and snowboarding together and now... what we were friends? That’s what I said I wanted, so it should have been what I wanted. But I didn’t.  He met my parents. I thought we had a moment, even with the peck on the cheek. But now what?

Now I had to get ready for the qualifications tonight. I did what I always did best and focused on the ice.

Or so I thought.

“Since we aren’t going to talk about American figure skaters, what about Alexis Cote? You two were rumored to be cozying up at your parent's resort in Canada during nationals,” the reporter asked, turning her attention back to Blake, raising her eyebrows. Now my attention was back on him too.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Cozying up at nationals? I thought you two were just friends, Blake!” I spat his name as if he could hear me.

What the hell kind of jealous girl had I become that yells at the TV. I only did this when I was alone in my apartment watching The Bachelor, not at someone I knew on the screen.

Blake laughed, pushing up the sleeves of his plaid shirt. I found myself uncrossing my arms and staring at the way his muscles moved. “Well, you know, I think people are always looking for the fairytale romance. And what’s more romantic than two athletes, some fresh snow, and a little games action?”

“Are you trying to hint at something to us?” The reporter prodded.

Blake smiled, shaking his head. “Nothing to hint at. I’m a single man if that’s what you’re asking. But don’t tell too many people. My mom might try to hook me up with someone.” He hitched his thumb in his mom’s direction.

“Well, your secret is safe with us and our millions of viewers. I’m sure she didn’t hear you either,” the reporter said, and they laughed together.

“They’ll be plenty of times for girls after The Games. And if Blake does as well as he’s supposed to, I’m sure they’ll be figure skaters, skiers, hey maybe even a few reporters after him,” Blake’s dad finally spoke, shooting a wink at the reporter who laughed even harder and I swore blushed.

“What does that mean?” I found myself yelling at the TV before I turned it off.

I sighed, shaking my head. This wasn’t me. I didn’t go crazy for boys.

But Blake was different than the other boys I was used to, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

 

 

***

 

“Again!” Coach yelled, even more frustration ringing in his voice as I missed another jump.

My head was always in the game, always on the ice and my movements. But Blake had me so twisted mentally; he gave me so much hope to dwell on, that it caused my focus to be on everything but what I was supposed to be concentrating on. This was why I didn’t do relationships, hell, even friendships. They were all just distractions from my ultimate goal: the gold.

Yet I had two golds that hung in cases in my apartment in New York. I dusted them once a week and then looked at them when I needed motivation. I planned for possibly one more Olympics after this, but then I’d be almost thirty. There would be new blood, young blood who were thirstier for this moment than I was. Then what? After skating, I had nothing else planned for my life.

I was homeschooled due to my vigorous training schedule and never even thought about college. The problem with going to school was that I couldn’t compete at a professional level and get paid according to the NCAA. I wasn’t going to give up the sponsorship money I started getting at fifteen, so I didn’t take a second glance at college. I didn’t have experience in anything but skating which could get me a job in one of those traveling skater tours or maybe even as an Olympic correspondent. But that was it. All I had to show for years of dedication.

“Kelly! Where is your head?” Coach Donahue yelled his hot breath right on my face. He was so close I could see his nose hairs dangling from his flared nostrils.

I shrugged. “Sorry, Coach.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been with you ten years. Ten years of dedication and one little distraction from some Canadian and you’re all over the ice. Get your head in the game, Kelly. I know Alexis’s head is there!”

I nodded, swallowing hard, my blood boiling just hearing her name. How did Coach know about all of this? I guess the whole world knew thanks to a little hashtag and the morning shows. This was something I was never going to live down unless I showed where my head was supposed to be and brought home a gold. “Yes, sir.”

“Again!” Coach yelled, stepping back and clapping his hands.

Logan took my hand, guiding me toward our positions. He leaned in close. “It’s okay to have a little distraction. It keeps us sane,” he whispered.

“And what’s your distraction? Hockey?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned. “Something like that.”

 

***

 

For qualifications, we settled on a waltz, the one that got us gold in Nationals. I’d had every turn and jump, and spin so memorized that I could do it with my eyes closed.

Logan and I stood on the side of the rink with Coach Donahue waiting for the Russians to finish their program, which lacked the depth and difficulty that ours did. At best they would make third after tonight and by tomorrow be out of the podium position.

I picked at the shimmering crystals on my shoulder blades. The long sleeve silky blue dress with its shimmering skirt made me look an ice princess from a fairy tale, and I was pretty sure that was the look our costume designer was going for when she put me in that with my blonde hair in a long braid.

Logan looked equally royal in his black trousers, puffy white top, and black vest. I smiled to myself thinking about how in our first competition together the judges and announcers talked about our chemistry. Like they believed we were a couple in love on the ice, moving together without knowing the world was watching.

That seemed like a lifetime ago, and I remembered thinking I would never be the girl that focused on a guy so much she forgot the world was going on around her.

But that was before. Before Blake had pushed my hair behind my ear and sent a jolt of electricity through me. Now he was all I could think about. Even as I straightened the jewels on my shoulder, I swore I saw his dreadlocked head in the crowd.

I did a double take. It really was him in the stands, and as soon as our eyes met, he waved slightly. Not only was he there, but he was sitting in the stands next to my parents and Becca. Like it was where he belonged.

I blinked once then twice, quickly turning away toward Logan, a small gasp escaping my lips.

“What? Did a jewel fall off? Is it going to knock that pompous Sergei on his ass when he attempts another Triple Axel?” Logan leaned in and whispered.

I shook my head, swallowing to gain some saliva in my throat. “It’s Blake. He’s here.”

“Really? How the hell did you find him in this crowd? I think every single person who came to The Games is packed in this stadium, standing room only,” Logan said, staring over my head into the crowd.

I didn’t want to tell him that I had this almost psychic connection. Like I felt Blake’s presence, and he was a beacon calling to me. That sounded crazier than a double five-rotation axel.

“From The United States, Logan Smith and Kelly Johnson,” the announcer boomed which caused an eruption of applause from the audience.

I sucked in a deep breath and took one last look into the audience and swore I saw Blake wink, even though that couldn’t have been possible to see since he was way up in the stands.

Maybe he was here for Alexis, who was skating after us. The thought of that made a lump form in my throat. Why did I care who he was with?

Maybe because deep down I really did like him and didn’t know what the hell to do. Every time I wanted something, I went for it in full force. Like skating. I found Coach Donahue and begged my parents to send me to train with him. I kept training until I had the gold.

But a guy? A guy was something I didn’t even know how to go about wanting and keeping. Logan said distractions were what kept us sane, but at this point, I was going crazy with my head everywhere else than the ice.

“Good luck,” Coach said, squeezing both of our shoulders before Logan and I skated to the center of the ice.

I stood with my back to Logan, pressing against his stomach as he wrapped an arm around my waist and I put my hand on his face, my head down. I’d thought nothing of this pose and the thousands of times we’d done it, but now I was acutely aware of his hand on me and how it felt when Blake had touched my sides and how bad I’d wanted him to touch so many other parts of me. Blake’s hand. Blake’s lips. Everything about him sent shivers through my body just thinking about him.

I was so lost in those thoughts that I was a beat off from our starting position. I quickly recovered, but my mind wouldn’t get back on the ice. Luckily, I knew the routine by heart and could just go through the motions, like riding a bike to most people. I glided into each spin and jump then it was time for the toss.

Logan held me by the waist, lifting me into the air as we spun together. Usually, I focused on his face, mainly the tiny little freckle that was right below his left eye. But this time it just reminded me of Blake’s dimpled smile, and I found myself looking up into the crowd for the snowboarder. And that was the fatal move that had me a beat off, my left skate hitting the ice before my right and my body going into a tailspin, hands on the ice to steady myself.

A collective gasp came from the crowd as I scrambled to get back to a standing position and forced a huge smile though all I wanted to do was cry. I messed up the move we’d done so many times, and that was going to put us off a point. I couldn’t mess up the next Triple Axel, or we’d be off the podium.

Logan skated to my side, our fingertips barely touching. He glanced over at me with a nervous smile on his face and his eyebrows raised. I kept my wide smile, trying to assure him that I wouldn’t mess up this time. But the downward spiral had already started, and I missed the landing, again my hands touching the ice followed by me scrambling back to a standing position as we skated back to the center ice and the final spin.

When Logan grabbed my waist, dipping me low as he crouched over me, I put my hand on his face as we did with every ending pose. But instead of beaming pride in his eyes, I could see the concern. The fighting back of tears.

But he shook them off as soon as the crowd erupted in applause and threw the flowers and bears that we grabbed a few of as we waved to the crowd and skated toward Coach to hear our scores that there was no way in hell I actually wanted to hear.

We breezed past Alexis and her partner, the smirks on their face evident like they pitied us. They knew that all they had to do was nail their performance and the gold was theirs. The gold and possibly Blake.

Before I could even dwell on that thought, Logan and I got to the bench. Coach sat between us on and leaned over as I put my skate guards on. “Where the hell was your head, KellyAnne?” he hiss-whispered.

I couldn’t remember the last time he’d used my full name, and not just called me ‘Kelly.'

“I guess just nerves,” I whispered, before looking up at the scoreboard, waiting with bated breath for our standings.

I wanted to look out into the crowd and see Blake, but I knew if I did, it would just hurt more. I couldn’t worry about the snowboarder anymore. If I did, this would happen with every competition, and I wouldn’t even be considered for stars on ice.

When our numbers lit up on the board, we were sitting just outside of a medal position, which was pretty impressive for my screw ups, but not good enough. We’d have to pull out all of the stops to get gold in the finals, and that would require extra practices, which made me tired just thinking about it.

Coach walked ahead of us, mumbling to himself as we made our way toward the locker rooms.

“Since Blake came to see you tonight, do you want to go watch his qualifications after practice tomorrow night?” Logan asked, bumping my shoulder.

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you nuts? Didn’t you see how much I messed up tonight? We’re going to need quadruple the practice tomorrow.”

Logan shook his head. “We can’t spend our entire lives practicing, and I’m pretty sure Coach will work us like dogs tomorrow morning and well into the afternoon, so why not take a break? And if you can’t stop thinking or staring at this guy, what better way to do that then watch how he moves in the snow?”

My face flushed just thinking about how his body would move in other places than the snow, and I had to shake the thoughts of his naked body out of my head. Letting out a deep breath, I nodded. “Shouldn’t you be pissed at me right now? I’m taking you out of a medal position.”

“Well, you did miss a jump that we’ve been practicing for almost a decade.”

I sighed, putting my head in my hands.

“And that’s why I’m not going to give you any more shit about it. I figure if you’re messing up it’s because of this guy, so you either need to go full force for him or forget about him. That way we can come back in the short program,” Logan said.

“Okay…we’ll see how I feel tomorrow.”