Chapter 4

 

Kelly

 

“AGAIN,” Coach Donahue spat after I landed another perfect throw jump executed by Logan.

Most of the other countries had left the rink to get ready for the opening ceremony, so it was just the three of us in the big arena that would soon be filled with hundreds of flashing lights watching us from the stands.

Logan wiped the sweat from his brow. “Coach. Really? We both need to shower before the opening ceremony, and we have this routine down. We had it down at nationals, and we’re going to execute the short program flawlessly. There’s no doubt about that.”

I didn’t want to bring up the half a second we were off on our first set of side-by-side Double Axels because that was my fault. My head wasn’t in practice today and more on thinking about a blond, dreadlocked snowboarder. But I wasn’t going to admit that out loud. Or ever. I was going to focus on The Games, which was what I came here for. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Coach smirked, crossing his arms over his barrel of a chest. He looked like every single coach I’d seen in a movie with his round shape, balding head, and a thick mustache. I think it was the reason I wanted to train with him so bad. That, and he’d trained three other gold medalist pair skaters.

Coach held up one pudgy finger. “One more and if it’s perfect, then you can shower.”

Logan sighed. “All right.”

 

***

 

After getting back to the room and showering, I emerged in just my towel to find Becca perched on the bed, sliding on her pants that I thought were cute yet not really practical for anything other than walking in an arena and I hoped I wouldn’t have to cut them off myself and Becca after the ceremonies.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing my brush and running it through my wet hair.

“Hey yourself Miss-brings-a-drunk-guy-home,” Becca said, standing and pulling her pants over her hips with a loud grunt.

When we were younger, no one believed we were sisters. We both had the athletic figures, but while my features were petite, hers was extra muscular. I swore she could kill a man with her thighs. It had gotten even more prominent as we grew up and when she would visit me in Lake Placid, our personalities clashed even more than our looks. It was our mother’s suggestion that we room together for the Olympics and get some sisterly bonding. I guess a few visits with me in New York where she used my ID to get into clubs wasn’t enough.

Not that I didn’t adore my sister, we were just completely different. Fire and ice as my dad used to say. I may have been in the spotlight as a skater, but I never tried to stand out amongst the crowd and avoided all conflict while Becca was the one you could pick out of a crowd, usually starting a fight.

I smirked, combing out a tangle. “He didn’t know where his room was and I didn’t want to just leave him outside.”

“That and you kind of like the bad boy,” Becca said with a wink before sliding her coat on.

I scoffed. “I do not. Why would you even think that? And he isn’t a ‘bad boy.' That sounds like a stupid cliché from a romance novel.”

“Because of the way you just smiled before trying to act offended. Admit that you like the rowdy snowboarder. Or bad boy. Or whatever you want to call him.”

My eyes widened. Did I just act offended? What was my face showing? I had the best competition face in the game. I could miss a turn and still smile like I was on top of the world. I guess that’s why Blake’s friends had no so eloquently called me the “ice queen.” I knew how to freeze my face and usually my feelings for anyone.

Becca laughed. “And your reaction to that, tells me you do. Come on; you haven’t talked about a guy, in well, ever. Your life has just been training, and it’s nice to see you even talking to someone that isn’t your coach or Logan.”

“I’ll have you know that I have tons of friends and gentlemen callers that I talk to in New York,” I said, adjusting my towel.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Name one.”

“I, uh.” Dangit. I had to have some friends. But now that I thought about it, there wasn’t anyone I hung out with other than Logan, and that was just during practice. If I wasn’t practicing, I was eating, sleeping, or watching reality TV.

Becca smiled. “It’s totally okay, dude. I get it. It’s hard when you’re so passionate about something to find time for anything else. I don’t remember the last time I had a date, let alone hung out with someone that wasn’t in hockey gear. And have you seen the hockey dudes? Sorry, but I can’t get down with a guy who has less teeth than me. Granted, a lot of them get falsies, and there was that hottie from Norway…but…” She shook her head then put her hand on my shoulder. “If you want to have fun with the snowboarder, I’m not going to judge you for it, just don’t bring his drunk ass to the room. Find an open family restroom or something.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ew. That’s disgusting. Do you know how many germs are in there?”

“Not if you don’t let your naked bodies touch anything.”

I thought for a moment how that would work then my thoughts lingered to how Blake would look naked with his lean body. He probably had a ton of tattoos. All bad boys did, didn’t they? I wondered if he had the Olympic rings on him like all of those swimmers did, or maybe even a mountain that spread across his long back.

Then I started to think about what dipped below his V and my face heated up, so I had to stop thinking. “Okay. Enough talk about Blake. I need to get ready.”

“AKA, you need alone time in the bathroom,” Becca laughed as I grabbed my clothes.

I glared at her. “No!”

That would have to be done when I knew she was good and asleep.

 

***

 

This was my third Olympics, and the opening ceremonies never got old.

 All of the athletes from around the world together in one stadium, and even better was walking along with all of the athletes from the United States, and for that moment we are all together as one team. There weren’t any politics or grievances; it was just all of us working for the common goal of the gold. Though, I assume there was more competition against people who had others from their country competing for the same medal. No one dared to try and compete against Logan and I. We were a powerhouse, and everyone knew it.

The only real competition we ever had was that bitch Alexis Cote and her haughty blond partner, Jacob Roy. The guy looked like a Disney prince, and with that stupid French accent, he had a way of making the judges swoon. I hated both of them. I never actually had a real conversation with either of them, but still hated the idea of the pair. We were always battling for gold at every competition, and I swore that neither of them ever smiled. They were the king and queen of resting bitch face. I wondered what Blake saw in her if it was really as a friend or something more. As soon as Blake entered my brain, I started to search the crowd. Canada was a ways away, but maybe in the sea of their athletes, I could spot his dreadlocked head.

“Looking for someone?” Logan asked, nudging my side as we walked to our seats to watch the performances.

“What? No, I was just admiring the beautiful atmosphere,” I said, half-lying. So, I may or may not have been looking. He didn’t need to know all of my secrets.

When I glanced in Logan’s direction his eyes weren’t even on me but glued to his phone. “Oh, he just liked the selfie you posted of us on Instagram. I mean the atmosphere liked it, that is, if it’s what you were really looking at,” Logan said, peeking up at me.

“What? Really?” I couldn’t pull my phone out of my jacket fast enough to open up my Instagram app.

There it was, staring right back at me. Blake Tremblay’s name on top of thousands of other hearts on the picture of Logan and I, smiling with a sea of red, white, and blue behind us.

“Oh my God, are you blushing right now?” Logan asked, nudging my shoulder.

“I’m not,” I said, quickly finding Blake’s Instagram account and following it before Logan saw what I was doing, then shoved my phone back in my pocket.

“It’s cute, and it’s good to see you actually interested in something other than skating. Now we can have an actual conversation that isn’t about a triple axel or what you didn’t eat so I could lift you,” Logan said, shaking his head as if he just had a thought but wasn’t going to say it out loud.

Now was not the time to tell him that instead of eating one of the meals our sponsors had prepped and sent, I binged on cheese curds and root beer that Becca brought from home.

“Am I that boring of a conversationalist?” I asked, turning to face him fully.

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that, but I will say that I’ve never seen you laugh or talk to someone as much as the dreadlocked snowboarder last night.”

I rolled my eyes. “You sound like my sister. Like I have absolutely no life and that somehow this guy is just going to change all that. We only have two weeks here. It’s not like a lot can happen in that time.”

“Maybe it can,” Logan mused.

Maybe it could. Maybe it really could.