Page 24 of Facing Off
In the beginning, she starts like any athlete warming up. Stretching, loosening muscles, and bending into poses that wake the body up.
Okay, that’s a goddamn lie and you know it, Adrian.
I’m delusional if I think she’s like any other athlete. It’s not even close. How she bends her foot back makes my expression go slack. It’s like watching a very skilled warrior get ready for battle. There’s regal seriousness in how she snaps to attention, lifting her arms into her first pose.
It’s the way she’s breathing, and how elegantly her muscles contract and extend. Her glowing skin and the darkness of her eyes brimming with passion under the lights. Raw power as she moves to the music. Then she smiles.
The curtain I’m standing behind rustles.Fuck. It’s me, because I almost tripped over my feet.
Sonya smiling is an eclipse-type event for how rare it is. Even if I recognize this one isn’t real. It’s made for the stage. Fabricated completely.
I rub my chest, attempting not to gawk—and failing. Time is suspended, and I don’t mind. It feels like it will go on forever, and for a while it does, but then…
Out of nowhere, perfection misaligns. There’s a wobble to her body. Legs stumble and her landings get shakier the higher she jumps. This is wrong. Andsheknows it’s wrong because her expression drops with every mistake.
When Sonya’s knee hits the ground hard, I fist the curtain.
It’s been said I grin like a maniac whenever I face our opponents. There’s a wild gleam in my ice blue eyes as I battle against the boards, fighting for the puck. I have fun even when I’m dripping with sweat and running on fumes in the last seconds of a triple overtime. It’s what I’m known for.
That Adrian isn’t in the building today.
My hands curl into fists, and my jaw could split in two. That’s how hard I’m biting down, from watching Sonya struggle.
She straightens up to her feet and starts moving again and seems to be priming herself. This next jump is going to be big. Bracing her muscles, she leaps?—
And the blood in my veins freezes.
Because Sonya falls hard. All the way down.
She’s not getting up.
Not thinking, I sprint onto the stage.
10
SONYA
I’m crumpledon the stage, staring up at the ceiling. Nothing feels broken, but my heart feels like it’s about to explode out of my chest. Because what just happened?
There’s a rush of footsteps before someone comes into view.
What I’m seeing makes no sense. I must have hit my head, because why do I think Adrian Hughes is hovering over me? I haven’t seen him in six months, and no…I refuse to think about that. This must be a dream. Actually, a nightmare.
He’s crouching down and asking if I’m hurt, scanning me from head to toe.
When he leans closer, my pulse trips.
Sandalwood, soap, mint.
Like always, he smells incredible.
I blink up at him, expecting him to grin. This smarmy, arrogant expression that so often curves his lips up, except…
His jaw is steel.
And then, I have no time to wonder why or what he’sdoing here because behind him, a thin, pale face appears. It’s my dance mistress hissing, “I don’t understand.”
Her words rocket-fire me back to reality.
