Page 92 of My Last Dance

“Sorry.” Kappy grimaced and pulled me up a bit too hard, making me knock into him. He shuffled for a second to regain his balance, but then flew clean off the back of his skates to his butt.

Patrick immediately cut the music.

“I think I broke my tailbone.” Kappy’s groan echoed in the rink and his hand went to his butt. “I miss my hockey pants.”

With a laugh, I reached a hand down to help him up. “Let’s go, big guy.”

17. CHOREO

After three more weeks of running through our intense schedule of ballet, yoga, lift workouts, and practice, it became clear that Kappy learned best by copying Patrick.

We decided our plan of action would be for Patrick and I to choreograph a program together, then Patrick would go step-by-step with Kappy, teaching him each element.

“I’ll choose the rhythm dance music, then you two can choose the free dance,” Patrick announced.

The rhythm dance, previously known as the short program, always had tight restrictions for the style and genre of music.

“What’re the rules this year?” I asked.

Patrick grinned. “It has to be seventies inspired.”

“Lame,” Kappy relented.

Patrick laughed. “Like I said, you can choose free dance, but I have the perfect idea for Team USA.”

I wish I felt as sure as he sounded, but this was the first time in years that I wasn’t confident on making Team USA.

Patrick swiped on his phone for a second before ABBA music blasted through the rink.

My neck snapped up to Patrick. “Yes! Oh my God! This is my dream!”

Patrick smiled proudly at me. “I know.”

My mind started running through different choreography and costume possibilities. Patrick mashed together some of the best songs from Mamma Mia. The build of the last thirty seconds of the song was amazing.

Patrick and I both looked to Kappy. I secretly crossed my fingers, praying he’d be okay with it.

“What do you think?” Patrick asked hesitantly.

Kappy flipped his hair back. “I think she’s got her heart set. You should prolly start drawin’ up the plays, Coach.”

I practically threw myself at Kappy, hugging him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

His face lit up with amusement, and I immediately pulled back, feeling stupid over my dramatics, but I couldn’t help it—this was my dream program music.

Patrick balled his fist in triumph. “Awesome. Be ready to start tomorrow, guys.” He hopped out of the teambox and started skating away, but right before leaving the ice, he called over his shoulder, “See you soon!”

My eyes went to Kappy. “What’s soon?”

“Trivia.” He grinned.

I’d forgotten the two of them did that. But it suddenly made sense. He was always gone on Wednesday nights, and I never worked up the courage to ask him where he went.

“Wanna come?”

“Oh.” I blinked at his muscular back while he gathered his water bottle and zip-up from the boards. Getting an invite from anyone other than Mer felt foreign. “S-sure, I guess so,” I stammered out.

“Perfect.” But then his easy smile fell from his lips. “No distracting us, though. We’re winners, P.”

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