Page 46 of About to Fall

“Well,” Sabrina said brightly, clapping her hands together like she just had the most brilliant idea. “Dinner? All of us? I'm starving and I refuse to eat hotel room service alone.”

Théo glanced at Nicky. Nicky glanced at Théo. Some wordless negotiation. Nicky nodded.

“Sure,” Théo said. “That sounds great.”

“Are you rooming with Adrian? We should invite him too,” Sabrina suggested, because she apparently hated me.

Fuck. That should have been my cue to bail—plead jet lag, fake a phone call, develop a sudden passionate interest in the hotel gift shop. But I was still frozen in my spot like an idiot, watching this reunion unfold with the morbid fascination of someone who couldn't look away from a car crash.

And then Théo's gaze shifted past Nicky's shoulder and found me.

His expression changed. Not dramatically—he was too controlled for dramatic—but enough. A coolness. A slight narrowing. The look of someone who had not expected to find me within ten metres of the person he was clearly still protective of.

I walked over and slung an arm over Nicky's shoulder. Casual. Friendly. The kind of thing a training partner might do. He went rigid under my arm. But he didn't shove me off, which—given that he'd barely looked at me since Québec—I was choosing to interpret as progress. We were both very aware of the last time we'd been this close.

“Zhao,” Théo said with a nod. Neutral. Professional. Absolutely glacial underneath.

“Beaubien.” I matched his tone exactly. “Good to see you back on the circuit. Things were getting a bit boring.”

Nicky's elbow drove into my ribs. Théo's expression didn't change but something behind his eyes went very cold, very fast.

“Boring,” he repeated. “Must be nice, treating the sport like a rich kid's hobby.”

“You couldn’t buy your way into a quad flip, Beaubien. But keep telling yourself I’m just a spoiled little rich kid. It’ll make losing to me hurt less.”

His jaw tightened.

And because I couldn’t leave well enough alone, I added, “I'll be sure to wave from the top of the podium. You can watch from wherever you end up.”

Sabrina's smile had fossilized on her face.

“I think we might all be a little hangry and jetlagged,” she said, giving me a pointed look. “Why don't we meet in the lobby in an hour and grab some dinner? I'll find a place.”

Nicky handed her the little envelope with her room key and a number scrawled on top. She took Théo's arm and steered him toward the elevator with the practised authority of a woman who had spent her entire life managing situations that were about to go sideways.

Nicky ducked out from under my arm, grabbed the handle of his suitcase, and headed for the other bank of elevators without a word.

“That went well,” I said, grabbing my suitcase and catching up in two strides.

He looked at me. The composure was intact but barely—a hairline fracture running through the polished surface that only I could see because I'd spent weeks learning where to look for it.

“Don't,” he said quietly.

And for once in my life, I didn't.

We took the elevator to the 18th floor in silence. Stood on opposite sides of the car, watching the numbers climb, saying nothing. The air between us was thick with everything unsaid.

Osaka was already starting off messy.

24. Nico

Adrian was quiet when we got to our room. He dumped his suitcase at the foot of the bed closest to the window without asking me which I preferred and pulled the sheet back, flopping onto the bed like he had nowhere to be.

I set my suitcase on the luggage holder and started unpacking. Shaking out my costumes, hanging them in the little closet by the bathroom. Arranging my toiletries on the counter in the order I'd use them. Routine. Structure. The small, controllable things that kept the uncontrollable things at bay.

“So. You and Théo.”

It wasn't a question so I didn't answer. I smoothed a crease from the sleeve of my free program costume and hung it carefully beside the short.