Page 36 of Perfectly Faked

Her eyes dart to the ice. “What is there to talk about?”

“The kiss?” I whisper.

Her face snaps shut as she shrugs. “You just happened to be next to me, and it was New Year’s Eve. What was I supposed to do?”

“That’s it?” I ask. “Because the way I remember it...” I pause, searching her face for a sign of something,anything. But she’s too busy looking anywhere but at me. “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel something too.”

Her eyes cut to mine. “Leo, can wenotdo this here?” she pleads under her breath. “Eugene is watching, and we need to practice.”

But I can’t let this go. I gently take her wrist and draw her closer, pressing her to my chest. She looks up at me, surprised.

“How am I supposed to focus on practice when you’re pretending nothing happened?” I ask. “You think I can just skate around like we’re strangers again?”

Her lips part, the tension between us as sharp as a skate blade. She blinks, then slowly pulls away from me. “Can we just begin?” she says cooly, looking away. “Start with a lift or something?”

“You want a lift? I’ll show you a lift.” My hands reach for her waist, and I lift her off the ice, hauling her over my shoulder like a sandbag.

“Leo! What are you doing?” She kicks against me, her legs flailing against my chest. “Put me down! This is so unprofessional.”

I hook my arm around her, enjoying the fact that for once, I have the upper hand. “Will you talk to me if I do?”

“Okay, I’ll talk!” she snaps, her voice verging on threatening. “But if I have to say it one more time: Put. Me. D?—”

I let go, but at that exact moment, she drives her legs into my stomach, knocking the air out of me and forcing me to double over with a grunt.

She crashes onto the ice, landing on her butt.

“Down?” I finish, gasping for breath.

She glares at me. “My tailbone is going to have a nice bruise, thanks to you.”

“You asked me to put you down,” I say, rubbing the spot where her knee met my stomach. “I was just following orders.”

“You could’ve warned me first!” she growls, rubbing her backside as she scrambles to her feet.

“You kicked me in the stomach,” I remind her.

“You deserved it,” she says, crossing her arms.

“That’s enough!” Eugene yells from the side. “You two—over here. Now.”

Victoria shoots me a look.

“This conversation isn’t over,” I mutter before she skates away.

Her coach pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he regrets showing up for practice today.

“This won’t work,” he says, sighing deeply.

“No, please don’t quit,” Victoria pleads. “I need you. This is my last shot. If I don’t have a coach...”

Eugene holds up a hand, silencing her. “Who said I was quitting? I’m not going anywhere. Butthis”—he waves a hand between us—“this thing between you two—it has to stop.”

“What thing?” Victoria asks defensively.

“The bickering. The unresolved tension,” he says, leveling a stern look at her before shifting his gaze to me. “There’s something going on between you two. And I can’t teach either of you”—he jabs a finger in our direction—“if you’re not willing to work through your differences.”

Victoria shakes her head, looking almost angelic. “I assure you there’s nothing going on.”

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