Page 81 of About to Fall

He caught me watching and winked.

I looked away before Renaud could notice.

◆◆◆

The press conference was at 2 p.m.

The top six men's skaters crammed behind a long table with microphones and water bottles and the particular studio lighting that made everyone look slightly ill. I was seated between Müller and—of course—Théo, for maximum drama. Then it was Shimizu, Reynolds, and Adrian at the end.

Adrian and Reynolds were deep in conversation, heads tilted toward each other, Reynolds leaning into Adrian's space like he’d never heard of personal boundaries. Adrian said something I couldn't hear and Reynolds laughed loudly and let his hand land on Adrian's bicep, squeezing once before leaving it there. Adrian didn't move it. Just grinned and kept talking, one hand gesturing lazily while Reynolds hung on to every word.

Which. Fine. Whatever.

I tried not to let it bother me. Tried not to notice the way my jaw had started to ache from clenching. Tried to focus on the moderator shuffling her papers and not on Reynolds's hand, which was still on Adrian’s arm.

A water bottle slid into my peripheral vision. I looked down, then sideways.

Théo gave me a small smile. The hollows were softer under his cheeks. His eyes had lost that bruised quality they'd had in Toronto. Chicago was agreeing with him.

“Hey, you good?” he asked quietly.

“Fine. It’s just… you know.”

He nodded in understanding. We both hated these press events for different reasons—me because I performed too well at them, him because he refused to perform at all.

The distance between us felt vast and impossibly small at the same time. Osaka had been a disaster. I was hoping Paris would turn out differently.

The moderator called for our attention and the chatter died down. The questions were predictable. What were our goals for this event? How did we feel about the competitive field? What had we been working on since the last competition?

Shimizu went first—soft spoken, gracious, his English careful and precise. He thanked his coaching team and said he was honoured to compete alongside such talented skaters. Müller followed with an answer so technical it could have been a presentation at a physics conference. Reynolds flashed that all American grin and said something effortlessly charming about chasing personal bests and letting the scores take care of themselves. The journalists loved him. They always did.

Théo gave answers like he was being charged by the word. “Feeling good. Working hard. Focused on the free skate.” Full stop. Next question.

Adrian, predictably, treated the microphone like a stage. “The goal is always gold. I’ve been working on making my programs more devastating, which my coach keeps telling me is not a technical term but I disagree.” He winked at the dozens of cameras that were trained on his face. “The field is strong—really strong—but I didn't fly to Paris to come second.”

I gave the answers I always gave—measured, professional, a little mechanical. Talked about consistency and preparation and trusting the process. The golden prince reciting his lines. Under the table, my knee was bouncing. I pressed my palm flat against my thigh to still it.

Then a journalist from a Canadian outlet raised her hand.

“This question is for both Nico and Théo. You two trained together for several years in Toronto before Théo's move to Chicago. How does it feel to be competing against each other again and how has your relationship changed since your time as training partners?”

The room went quiet. My heart rate spiked. The studio lights suddenly felt too bright, the air too thick. I reached for my water bottle just to have something to do with my hands.

The skating world was small and gossip travelled fast but this was the first time we'd been on a panel together since he left Toronto.

Théo leaned toward his microphone first.

“Nico and I have a lot of respect for each other,” he said carefully. “We pushed each other to be better skaters during our time training together and I think that competitive drive is still there. But we've both grown a lot since then. We're different people now, on different paths. I'm grateful for what I learned training in Toronto and I wish Nico nothing but success.”

He didn't mention Renaud. It was as diplomatic as Théo got. He usually had a cutting word or two for journalists but he'd obviously anticipated this question.

My turn.

I leaned toward my microphone. My mouth was dry. The water I'd just drunk sat heavy in my stomach.

“I agree with Théo,” I said. My voice came out steady. Years of practice. “We had an important chapter together and now we're both focused on our own journeys. I would love to see both of us on Team Canada.”

She looked disappointed. She'd wanted drama. We'd given her press release material instead.