Page 36 of Your Sharpest Edge
“Did you guys ever date?” I asked, curious after all the rumors I’d read about them online.
She blushed, and then she held out her hands, gesturing for me to skate closer, so I did. “No.” Her lashes fluttered as a small gust of cool air blew from the vents above us. “I know the rumors, but Ivan had a different preference.”
I cocked my head to the side, unsure of what she meant. The corner of her lips twisted into a smirk as it dawned on me.
“Ooooh,” I finally said. “Oooooh,” I repeated.
“Remember, back home, it isn’t as progressive as we are here today, so he never came out. I didn’t want to ever get him in trouble, so I didn’t deny the rumors. He’s really a good guy though. Want me to show you one of our routines?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Okay, let me lead... if you can keep up.”
She moved closer to me and her chest pressed against mine, her body yielding with a sense of surrender. With her head nestled against me and in the hush of the rink, our movementsspoke volumes. Amid the faint hum of vacuums from the cleaning crew in the stands, we shared a moment of serene intimacy, gliding in perfect harmony as she guided me around the rink at a languid pace, savoring every moment together.
I almost didn’t want it to end. I’d have stayed here forever, and I realized that if this was what friendship was supposed to be like, I’d been missing out all these years. A silent regret echoed inside me for treating women like they could only cater to my very carnal needs.
When we got back to the benches, she pulled away from me and started to glide around the rink alone. I leaned back against the boards, watching her move effortlessly. She skated with such grace that I barely kept up with her rapid spins and fluid movements.
She twirled and spun, her body moving with a mesmerizing elegance. It was so different from the structured, intense skating I was used to on the ice. Her movements were free, expressive, and full of joy. Each turn and leap seemed to defy gravity, as if she was dancing on air.
I watched in admiration, captivated by her skill and the sheer beauty of her performance. She was lost in her own world, a world where everything else faded away, leaving the pure, unbridled joy of skating. I realized how deeply I cared for her, how much she had come to mean to me.
As she finished her routine with a final, graceful spin, she looked over at me, her face flushed and glowing with happiness. Our eyes met, and in that silent exchange, I sensed sadness. She skated over to me, and as she took my hand, I felt that same sense of warmth and connection, stronger than ever before.
We were crossing a boundary today, our hands exploring each other with an urgency that suggested we couldn’t be apart. I needed her, and the intensity of my feelings terrified me. It scared me because I was starting to become the man my fatherwas. I had spent my entire life trying to avoid being like him, and now I was going behind her husband’s back. Despite what a piece of shit he was and how much I desperately wanted her to leave him, she was still his. She had chosen him.
She looked down, but our hands were still touching. She sighed softly.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” I fired out questions, not giving her a chance to answer.
She wasn’t the same person who had skated with me on the rink moments earlier. The joy had just vanished.
“I-I can’t,” she whispered, then pushed past me, running off the benches and down the rubber mats toward the locker room.
Sensing she needed some space but also worried she might be sick again, I followed her to the locker rooms, my concern growing with each step.
“Anastasia?” I asked into the quiet locker room, hoping she’d have gone to the more familiar home team one.
As I entered, the scent of sweat and the faint remnants of sports tape filled the air. The dim lighting cast shadows on the dark wood, creating a somber atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the bright, open rink outside.
“I’m sorry,” a voice cried from the end of the locker cabinets.
It was her, huddled at the far end, her voice breaking the heavy silence.
I walked, rather hobbled, on my skates down the rubber toward the last set of lockers tucked away in the corner. Before I even turned the corner, I could hear her sobs echoing in the room, almost amplifying the melancholia of the dark locker room.
I raced over to where she was unlacing her skates and dropped to my knees, hoping I didn’t nick my knee from falling so fast.
“Tell me, Anastasia . . .”
She rubbed her eyes and looked up at me with such profound sadness in her features it was hard to miss. It was the same look my mom had when I’d ask her where my father was after he’d been gone for days.
“I-I’m pregnant.”
The entire world cleaved open. I heard nothing except a single ringing sound inside my ears. I stared at her, my heart sinking. This was the next step. I knew they were having sex. I knew it, yet I didn’t want to know anything at all.
“Okay.” It was all I knew how to formulate. It was all I could say without feeling like I was falling apart myself. There were so many questions about how a baby, Dimitri’s baby, would change our dynamic.
