I sat up a little straighter. “Sure.”
By the time Courtney, Mark, and their mothers left, my heart was hammering from the suspense. I specified decaf for my coffee because I couldn’t afford to lose any sleep the night before my competition. Plus, I was already hyped up enough, being in the romantic setting with Sergei. The small room was softly lit, allowing us to see out the wall of windows onto Charles Street, where tiny white lights twinkled in the trees. Only one other couple occupied a table near the door, so it felt as if we had the whole place to ourselves.
Across the candlelit table, Sergei’s blue eyes reminded me of two sparkling sapphires. He nudged up the sleeves of his gray sweater and took a sip of water.
“I wanted to talk to you about Courtney and Mark, and how I’d like to handle next season. I want to make a big change.”
I stiffened. Did he not want me to be part of the team anymore?
He continued, “I don’t want you–”
“Are you thinking I shouldn’t work with them next season?” My words rushed out. “Because I can manage my time and the pressure of the Olympics–”
“
Em
, slow down.” Sergei placed his palm on the table, and his face spread into a smile. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I gave him a sheepish look.
“I was going to say . . .” He paused. “I don’t want you to just help with the choreography next season. I’d like you to create their entire short program, if you’re interested.”
“Yes!” I grinned. “Definitely, I would love that.”
“You have great ideas, and you work really well with the kids. Courtney’s improved so much as a performer, and it’s because of you.”
The waitress set down two steaming mugs of coffee, and Sergei passed me two packets of Sweet & Low, just like old times. I smiled to myself.
Every time I smelled brewing coffee or heard the whirr of a cappuccino machine, I still thought of Sergei.
“Thanks. I love coaching them. Courtney’s become like the little sister I always wanted.”
Sergei blew on his coffee, making a low whistle. “I always wanted a brother.”
“Classic only child wishes.” I smiled. “I’m lucky, though, that I have a bunch of cousins I’m close to.”
“Will they be part of your cheering section tomorrow night?”
“Oh, yeah. And there’ll be some relatives there I haven’t seen in ages. I think everyone I’m remotely related to who lives within a hundred miles is coming.” I scratched my thumbnail along the handle of my mug. “No pressure or anything.”
“It can be tough, skating at home. But as long as you stay focused on the program and forget who’s watching, you’ll do fine.”
“I just feel like there are so many expectations, and I don’t want to disappoint everyone.” I lifted my coffee, and the steam floated toward me, warming my nose. “I don’t just want to skate well. I want to have two amazing skates.”
Sergei put down his cup. “
Em
, you can’t let yourself think about blowing everyone away with amazing performances. You have to trust your training and let it happen.”
“I know, but sometimes it’s hard to block out all the outside voices.”
“Well, I’ll remind you over and over again tomorrow.”
“Maybe you should call me every half hour,” I joked.
“I was thinking every fifteen minutes.” He grinned and laid his arm across the back of the chair next to him.
I laughed and soaked in the positive energy between us. As I sipped my coffee, I watched Sergei rest his hand on the table next to his mug. What would happen if I reached out and put my hand on his? Let my fingertips caress the smooth skin, the soft brush of hair just below his watch. Would the earth stop turning?
I didn’t have a chance to find out because Sergei picked up his cup. He asked me more about the family I was expecting at the short program, and we chatted until both our mugs were empty.
Sergei pulled his phone from the pocket of his black leather jacket to call a taxi, but I didn’t want the nice evening to end so quickly. “Why don’t we take the T back to the hotel? We can walk to the Arlington station from here.”
“It’s pretty cold out. You sure you want to walk?”
“We can cut through the Public Garden. It’s not too far.”
The sidewalks were slick in some spots from the earlier snowfall, so I strolled carefully in my heeled boots. As Sergei and I waited at the traffic light on the corner of Charles and Beacon Streets, the Starbucks behind us hummed with activity, full of people getting their coffee fix. When the light changed to green, we crossed over Beacon and entered the Public Garden.
Snow covered all the trees and statues, giving the park an even more serene feel than usual. A beautiful oasis from the busy streets surrounding it, the Garden was one of my favorite spots in the city. On summer days, the space was alive with tourists riding the Swan Boats in the lagoon and children feeding the ducks. Tonight, stillness reigned in the frozen landscape.
“Aunt Deb and Uncle Joe live about a block from here. They don’t have a backyard, so my cousins and I used to play here all the time. We’d have bike races around the lagoon, and Trey would always beat me.” I frowned.
“Did you cry when you didn’t win?” Sergei teased.
I jutted out my chin but tried not to laugh. “I’m not
that
sore of a loser.”
He smiled. “No, you’re just incredibly interested in winning.”
“You should be grateful for my competitiveness.”
“Oh, I am.” Sergei stopped walking and softened his voice. “I’m very, very grateful.”
We stood as still as the large statue of George Washington in front of us. When we both started to speak at the same time, we laughed as we talked over each other.
“You go ahead,” Sergei said.
I toyed with my gloves, contemplating if I should keep my thoughts to myself. After all, I shouldn’t have such feelings, and I wondered every day if they would ever go away. But standing there with Sergei, I couldn’t let the moment pass.
“I was going to say I’ve missed this.” I peeked up at Sergei. “Talking to you like this.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and stayed silent as his eyes studied me. I could’ve kicked myself for opening my mouth and getting mushy.
He finally said quietly, “I wish things–”
My phone rang, cutting him off. I internally cursed it and hoped if I let it ring, Sergei would carry on.
“Do you want to get that?” he asked.
“No, it’s okay,” I said as the ringing stopped. “What were you saying?”
No sooner were the words out of my mouth than the phone rang again. I wanted to throw it into the nearest tree.
“You should probably get it,” Sergei said.
I took the phone out of my purse and saw Drew’s name on the screen. Guilt rolled in my stomach. He’d been scheduled to arrive in town that evening, and we’d made plans to meet after dinner. Once Sergei had asked me to have coffee, the whole world had disappeared, and I’d forgotten I needed to be somewhere.
“Hey, Drew. Did you have a good flight?”
Sergei wandered away from me and toward the statue where I couldn’t see his face.
“Yeah, we were right on time,” Drew said. “I was just wondering where you were because I saw Courtney at the hotel and figured you must be done with dinner.”
“Sergei wanted to talk to me. We’re on our way back now.”
“Cool. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
I hung up the phone and went over to where Sergei stood. He cleared his throat. “We should get going.”
The warmth between us had disappeared. He started walking, so I assumed our previous conversation was over. Meaningless chit-chat was all he offered as we rode the train to Copley Station. When we arrived at the hotel, he couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Have a good night,” he said over his shoulder and vanished into the elevator.
Drew greeted me with a hug and tried to kiss me, but I turned my head so his mouth hit my cheek. His face dropped, and I knew I had to say something before I hurt him any further.
“Why don’t we go sit over there?” I pointed to a sofa outside the shuttered lobby coffee shop.
He followed me to the couch. Concern creased around his eyes. “Did I do something?”
“No, not at all. I just don’t think I can get involved with anyone right now. I mean, I’m East Coast, you’re West Coast . . . I think it’s best if we keep things chill.” He was quiet, so I added, “I’m so sorry to dump this on you here. I should’ve said something before.”
“So, you just
wanna
be friends.” Disappointment was evident in both his voice and his eyes.
“I hope that’s okay? I still want to hang out this week, especially at the party. You’re the best dance partner out of everyone here.” I tapped his arm.
Thankfully, I got a little smile out of him. “Don’t you forget it.”
“Does that mean we’re good?” I looked at him anxiously.
“I’m not
gonna
lie . . . I wanted more, but I understand why you don’t
wanna
start something when I live across the country.”
Another twinge of guilt hit me for not being completely honest, but I pushed it down. “I’m so glad you’re not mad. I was scared you were going to tell me to get lost.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he said with a crooked grin.
I needed to wake up early for practice the next morning, so we kept the rest of our visit brief. As I prepared for bed, I thought about the scene in the Garden earlier and scrubbed my face extra hard in frustration, wondering what Sergei was going to say when he’d been interrupted.
Somehow, I had to put aside the turmoil in my heart and focus on performing the next day. Unlike my emotions, skating was a part of my life I could actually control.
Only a few empty seats remained when Chris and I boarded the bus to the Fleet Center for our short program. Filled with skaters, coaches, and spectators, the large charter bus pulled away from the hotel, escorted by two Boston Police motorcycles to guide us through rush hour traffic.
Knowing I didn’t like to chat before competitions, Chris turned to Trevor across the aisle. The two of them joked and laughed like they were on their way to a party instead of the biggest event of the year. I would kill to be that loose.
My ears picked up on the conversation between two fans sitting in front of us. The two women didn’t appear to be acquainted but brought together by the lack of available seats.
“Have you been to Nationals before?” the older lady asked.
“This is my first,” the younger one replied. “It’s so wild, riding on the bus with the skaters!”
I smiled, thinking how crazy it was that people were excited to be on the same vehicle as me. I’d signed hundreds of autographs and posed for countless photos at our practices in Boston but still didn’t think of myself as a celebrity. Celebrities were skaters like Kristi Yamaguchi and Brian
Boitano
.
Soon, you could be a champion like them.
I shivered and stared out the window at the brownstones on Beacon Street, trying to channel my thoughts on the clean run-through we’d done at practice that morning. Every time I’d envision myself completing an element, the police sirens would wail and spike my adrenaline further.
The bus rolled up to the arena, and I shot to my feet before we even parked.
Trevor laughed. “Ready to go,
Em
?”
Was I ready? I was physically prepared, for certain. But was I mentally ready to live up to everyone’s expectations? To my own?
Those questions plagued me for the next hour. Hovering around us backstage, Sergei reminded us, “Trust your training. Trust your body.” But the nagging thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. Before I put on my skates, I jogged up and down the hallway, clearing my head of the buzz that had followed us all week.