CH182

CH182
Coach Avery had us skate to the boards. Lukas slowed us to a stop, easing me back onto my skates. My legs trembled as they found the ice again, but I stood tall, shoulders squared like nothing had rattled me.
Coach Avery grinned.
“Solid transitions, stronger than I expected this early. Vandy…” He hesitated, then leaned forward a little, lowering his voice. "You're okay?"
I nod.
"Good, you held it together. I was almost fooled." He nodded. "I'm glad that you're trusting Lukas and you're handling yourself well. Chances are that’s exactly what the scouts want to see. They were watching closely." Avery’s tone softened, almost conspiratorial. “Between you and me? They’ll consider you first—so long as you prove you can still skate at your full level and your new partner is a good match. Lukas is an unknown, but they're already impressed." He laughed. "Wait until they see him jump!"
Lukas smiled. "I'll do my best to measure up."
"Do. You two are going to be terrifying. I can't wait to start seeing that choreography on the ice. Now,” he said briskly, straightening, “hydrate, stretch out. We’ll run the next drill in fifteen.”
“Yes, Coach.”

The rest of the walkthrough blurred into drills; we did a few more lifts, but they were at a faster pace, testing Lukas' balance and control. Nothing flashy, nothing to impress a crowd, but enough to prove control and stamina. Every time Lukas lifted me, the earlier rush of fear melted a little more. By the time Avery called us off the ice, my legs felt like jelly, but the knot in my chest had loosened.
“Good work,” Avery said, clapping us both on the shoulders. “That’s enough for today. You’ll get another chance soon. The next walkthrough is scheduled for three days from now. Same time.” His gaze flicked toward Coach Randall, who was glowering near the boards. “I believe the team will be on the same schedule from here on, so we'll practice otherwise on our own ice. Go eat something that isn’t garbage. Remember those macros.”
I headed back to the exit, heading over to Matteo, whose eyes were still on the ice. Lukas changed his skates and went to get Ben. I unlaced my skates with trembling fingers, exhilaration fizzing in my chest.
When he and Ben were ready to go, we waved to Coach Avery and headed out. Before I could stop myself, I turned and flung my arms around Lukas. He caught me easily, spinning me half a circle off the ground, laughing.
“You were the best,” I laughed against his shoulder.
His chuckle was low, warm. “You were better.”
I pulled back just enough to see his face, his grin brighter than I’d seen it in weeks. For once, there wasn’t a shadow hanging over him.
"Viking Thighs indeed," Matteo snickered, turning Lukas red.
He scowled. "Shut up."
Ben’s grin was infectious. “You looked like you were flying.”
“You did,” Matteo teased, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “And babe, whatever you're working on is giving me ideas."
Ben turned red. "Stop it."
"For now? Of course. You deserve food,” Matteo declared. “Before any of you collapse. Coffee?”
Ben smiled, taking the cup from Matteo's hand. The four of us headed across campus, hunger gnawing now that the adrenaline was fading. The cafeteria was buzzing with early-rising students waiting for the staff to set everything out. Isla was right in the thick of it with the Chaotic Tutus, all of them chatting animatedly and waving when they spotted us.
“There are my Olympians!” Isla called. The Tutus clapped gamely. “Tell me everything. Are you in already?" She wiggled her eyebrows. "How sexy did things get?"
My face burned and I scowled at her. "Stop it."
Lukas chuckled under his breath. "Nothing appropriate happened. It went well."
The cafeteria line crawled forward; most people were half awake, but with Isla and the Tutus chattering at full volume, it felt like less of a wait.
“So? How well is well?" Isla asked as we grabbed trays.
“Better than I hoped,” I said, piling eggs onto my plate. “Coach Avery said the scouts seemed pleased.”
“Pleased?” Isla gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Pleased is not good enough! You said well."
I rolled my eyes. "Pleased is well, Isla. Calm yourself. It's just a walkthrough. Tryouts are in three weeks and they haven't extended invitations yet."
We claimed a long table together, trays clattering on the table, the morning light streaming through the tall cafeteria windows. We talked about classes and the week's plans. I was pretty sure another party was coming up. People came up to talk to Matteo and take photos and flirt, but Matteo turned them down, politely. After breakfast, we split off toward our classes. The first few hours passed easily. The buzz about the upcoming Olympic tryouts seemed to follow me everywhere, but it was better than the whispers about Jean-Baptiste. No one had tried to stop me, but I guessed that was because I'm not marketing anything.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, I was heading to office hours with my art history professor. My notebook felt heavy under my arm, my head full of fragments of Norse mythology I was trying to piece together for my paper.
My phone buzzed with a slew of notifications. I opened it. It was a video of Celeste, on the ice, running through the exact opening of my old free skate. Reese’s voice narrated smugly in the background, “See how easy it is to teach someone to skate a routine that simple.”
The next clip was side-by-side: me from last season’s performance, Celeste copying frame for frame. The caption read: Boston only needs one star. #BetterButterfly
My jaw clenched. The comments were already pouring in, half cheering Celeste on, the other half dragging her for her obvious attempts to replace me.
One stood out: Show me the hard part and we'll talk. #NotMyButterfly
I laughed and replied.
Don't leave us in suspense. Where's the step sequence? Can’t wait to see your jumps!