Page 17 of The Last Pirouette
She walked back to her dorm that evening, replaying the events of the day in her mind. The weight room, the exercises, Liam’s instructions, the unexpected spark of attraction – it all swirled together in a confusing, exhilarating mix.
She stood before her mirror, not to critique her lines as a dancer, but to observe her body in a new light. She felt the faint, satisfying ache in her quads and core, a physical reminder of the work she had done, of the strength she had discovered.
For the first time since her injury, she wasn’t just seeing what was broken or lost. She was seeing the nascent potential for a different kind of power, a foundation she might be able to build on. A new version of herself.
She reached out, her hand resting on her leg, not with sadness or resignation, but with a newfound, contemplative curiosity. What could this body do now? Who could she become?
Chapter 11
The massive ice rink was a cavern of silence and cold after hours, lit only by a few humming utility lights that cast long, distorted shadows. The air smelled of ozone and shaved ice. Harper stood hesitantly at the gate, her arms wrapped around herself, watching Liam who was already at the center of the vast, empty sheet, his presence small but confident in the echoing space.
He skated a lazy circle, the scrape of his blades the only sound in the vast space. Then, he stopped, facing her, a hopeful grin on his face. “Come on, Quinn. I didn’t bring you here to be a spectator.”
Harper hesitated. The ice looked… treacherous. Beautiful, in a harsh, glittering way, but treacherous all the same. "I don't think so, Hayes. I'm good here."
“Scared?” He called out, the word echoing slightly.
Her back stiffened. “Of ice? Please. I’m just… not dressed for it.” She glanced down at her sneakers, suddenly feeling very exposed.
“Excuses, excuses,” Liam scoffed playfully. He pushed off again, skating closer to the gate, stopping just a few feet away. "Come on. I promise I won't let you fall."
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched. There was something undeniably appealing about the challenge in his eyes, a dare that sparked a flicker of her old competitiveness. "Why exactly did you bring me here? I thought you needed to rest your shoulder."
He shrugged, his eyes sparkling. "Needed a change of scenery. And company. Besides," he added with a sly grin, "I figured you could use a little…recreational movement."
Harper narrowed her eyes. "Recreational movement?"
"Yeah," he said, the grin widening, "you know, the kind where you actually enjoy yourself."
That stung, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it. "Very funny, Hayes." Still, she found herself unlatching the gate. The cold air rushed out, prickling her skin.
"That's the spirit," Liam said softly, no longer teasing, his voice carrying a note of genuine encouragement. "Just… trust me, okay? And trust the ice. It’s not as scary as it looks."
She took a deep breath, pushing down the rising tide of anxiety. Trust the ice? Trusthim? Both seemed equally impossible. But she was tired of being scared. Tired of being stuck. She stepped onto the rubber mat surrounding the ice, and then, with a final surge of defiance, onto the ice itself.
Her sneakers slid out from under her instantly.
A yelp escaped her lips as she flailed, grabbing blindly for the nearest thing: Liam. His hands were there immediately, strong and steady, wrapping around her waist.
“Woah, easy there,” he chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. “I got you.”
Harper clung to him, her heart hammering against her ribs. The ice was slick, unforgiving, nothing like the solid ground she craved. “I changed my mind. This was a terrible idea.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Liam murmured, his grip tightening reassuringly. “Just breathe. I won’t let you fall.”
She took a shaky breath, focusing on the feel of his hands on her waist, the solid warmth of his body against hers. Slowly,cautiously, she straightened up, still gripping his arms like a lifeline.
“Better?” he asked, his voice gentle.
“Marginally,” she admitted, her voice still tight with fear.
“Okay,” he said, slowly releasing one of her hands. “Now, just…try to stand. Find your balance.”
Harper focused on a point in the distance, trying to remember everything she knew about posture, about centering herself. It was different here, though. On the ice, every muscle felt foreign, unreliable. She wobbled, her ankle protesting with a sharp stab of pain.
Liam squeezed her hand. “Small steps. Just shuffle your feet a little.”
She did as he instructed, inching forward, her movements jerky and awkward. He matched her pace, skating backward in front of her, his eyes fixed on hers.
