Chapter 51 The interview

Chapter 51 The interview
Mia's POV

The studio was small. Two armchairs angled toward each other. A camera on a tripod. Three lights on stands. A woman with a clipboard and a warm smile who introduced herself as Nina and shook both our hands like we were old friends.

"Relax," she said. "This isn't a deposition. It's a conversation."

Zack smiled. Not the big one. The professional one. "We're ready when you are."

Blair Reid was standing just off camera. Arms folded. Phone in hand. She had approved the questions in advance. She had told us so twice on the way in and once more in the parking lot. There would be no surprises.

Nina sat across from us. She crossed her legs. She clicked her pen.

"Let's start easy. How did the two of you meet?"

I looked at Zack. He looked at me.

"Coach Jenna introduced us," I said. "I was looking for a partner and he was looking for a rink."

"Love at first skate?"

"Hardly." Zack's mouth lifted. "She told me my step sequence was sloppy in the first ten minutes."

"It was sloppy."

"It was efficient."

"It was sloppy, Zack."

Nina laughed. She was good at this. She laughed at the right moments and leaned in at the right moments and wrote notes she probably didn't need because the camera was catching everything.

"Let's talk about chemistry. You two have been described as one of the most natural partnerships in the junior circuit right now. What does it feel like to skate with someone you genuinely care about?"

I kept my smile up. I felt Zack's knee press lightly against mine under the table. A cue. A reminder. We were performing.

"It feels like trust," I said. "When you're on the ice with someone you care about, you don't have to think about whether they'll catch you. You just know."

"Zack?"

He leaned back in his chair. Relaxed. Easy. The version of himself he put on for cameras.

"She makes me better. That's the simple answer. I came to this rink to rebuild my career and she made me better on the ice and off it. I don't know how to say that without it sounding like a line, but it's true."

"It doesn't sound like a line," Nina said.

It didn't. That was the problem. It sounded real because parts of it were real and the parts that weren't were close enough that even I couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"What about off the ice? What does a normal day look like for you two?"

"We live together," Zack said. "Same house. So a normal day is breakfast, practice, arguments about the step sequence, more practice, dinner, arguments about the step sequence."

"Is he always this charming?"

"No," I said. "Sometimes he's worse."

Nina grinned. "And who wins the arguments about the step sequence?"

"She does," Zack said. "Every time."

"That's not true."

"Mia. You have won every argument we have had since the day I walked into that rink. I just let you think some of them are still ongoing."

I looked at him. He looked at me. The corner of his mouth was up. His eyes were warm. For a second I forgot the camera was there.

Nina wrote something. She let the silence sit. She was good at that too. She knew when to push and when to let people fill the space themselves.

"Let's talk about your families," she said. "Mia, your family runs the Cartelli rink. Your mother was a three-time national champion. What does it feel like skating on ice that has that kind of history?"

"Like coming home," I said. "Every time I step on that ice I can feel her. Not in a sad way. In a way that reminds me why I came back."

"And Zack, how does it feel training at a rink with that kind of legacy?"

"Like a responsibility. The Cartelli name means something to every skater who walks through those doors. I take that seriously."

Nina flipped a page on her clipboard. She glanced at it. She looked back up. Something in her expression shifted. Not a lot. Just enough that I noticed.

"Let's shift gears slightly. I want to ask about the road here. Mia, you stepped away from skating for two years after your mother passed. Coming back to the ice must have been an enormous decision."

"It was."

"And when you came back, you chose Zack as your partner. But there's a rumor in the circuit that another skater asked your father to be your partner before Zack signed on." She tilted her head. Her smile did not change. "Anyone we know?"

My smile did not change.

Zack's posture did not change.

Behind the camera, Blair Reid's phone hand stopped moving.

I felt the silence stretch for half a second. Half a second was a lifetime on camera. My brain was running through every possible answer. Deflect. Deny. Redirect. Laugh it off. Every option had a cost and every cost had a consequence.

Zack spoke first.

"Whoever it was," he said, "they were too late."

He paused. He looked at me. Not at Nina. Not at the camera. At me.

"I got there first."

Nina laughed. Delighted. She wrote something on her clipboard. "I love that. Can I use that as the pull quote?"

"Use whatever you want," Zack said.

I kept my smile up. My jaw hurt from holding it. Under the table, Zack's hand found mine. His fingers closed around my fingers. Firm. Warm. He squeezed once.

I squeezed back.

I did not think about it. I did not weigh it. I did not run it through the part of my brain that had been keeping score for five weeks. I just squeezed back because his hand was there and mine was there and the answer to that was simple even when nothing else was.

Nina asked three more questions. I answered them. Zack answered them. We were smooth. We were convincing. We were exactly what Blair Reid had paid for.

The camera stopped. Nina thanked us. She shook our hands. She told us the piece would air in two weeks.

I stood up. My legs were stiff. Zack stood beside me. He put his hand at my back. Light. Low. Not for the camera because the camera was off. Not for Blair because Blair was already on her phone walking toward the exit.

Just for me.

I let it stay.

As we turned toward the door I looked across the room. Coach Jenna was in the far corner. I had not noticed her come in. She was on her phone. Her back was half turned. Her free hand was pressed against her temple and her mouth was moving fast.

Her face was serious. Not the notebook serious. Not the practice serious. Something else.

Something wrong.