Page 68 of Hate You Most

They stood there for a while longer, side by side, the empty rink holding their silence and their secrets.

Then Viktoriya pushed off again.

“Race you,” she said and a laugh flew out of her.

“Oh, you’re on,” she heard Dakota yell from just behind her.

They took off at the same time, laughter echoing behind them and their blades biting into the ice.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

November 20th, 2022.

— Dakota Sanchez apartment. Detroit, Michigan.

“We should watch a movie,” Dakota said and threw the remote across the couch. It landed perfectly in her lap.

She was allowed to do that now, fully watch TV without fear, without feeling like the light and noise were going to crack her skull apart. She was also allowed her phone, and Dakota was allowed to answer any questions she had.

Yet, she hadn't done any of that. She hadn't asked for her phone yet, and she hadn't asked any clarifying questions about her forgotten past. In a way, Viktoriya didn't want to know. When the memories returned, it would feel all the greater as she hadn't been told anything. She didn't want her life spoiled before she got the chance to remember.

“You can pick,” Dakota said and settled onto the couch a careful distance away from her. Not touching and always careful.

Viktoriya clicked the power button.

The black screen flared to life. It was too bright at first, and she almost took a hand to shield her from the light. Her eyes adjusted to the illuminated screen and it was a strange feeling—looking at a screen without her brain splitting in two.

She flipped through the movies on the screen. It was filled with faces she didn't recognize and movie posters that didn't remind her of anything. She had no idea if she should pick a movie she'd seen before, or something new hoping it would spark a buried memory in her foggy mind.

Dakota leaned over mid-scroll and pointed at something ridiculous-looking: a pastel blue movie poster of two men standing back-to-back, one man smiling too widely, the other looking slightly anxious.

“This one’s bad,” Dakota said. “But in a sort of comforting way.”

Viktoriya glanced at her. “You’ve seen it?”

“No,” Dakota admitted. “But I can tell. It's a romcom, they're meant to be a little bad and a little cheesy, but that's also what makes them so good.”

Her thumb hovered over the remote, and for one singular, guilty moment, she felt as if choosing it would've been… wrong. Not morally, not really, but as if someone, somewhere, would frown and shake their head and tell her she wasn’t allowed to feel this way. That she wasn’t allowed to see that kind of love reflected on the screen.

But then she looked over at Dakota, who was busy unfolding a soft blanket on the couch, completely unaware of the war inside of her mind, and thought, maybe one day. Maybe one day she wouldn’t have to hide from her own mind and maybe one day she wouldn’t have to feel like wanting something—like wanting someone—was an illicit act. Her country thought it was a crime, but Viktoriya couldn't agree with that belief.

She pressed play.

The movie was exactly what Dakota had promised. It was predictable, and she barely needed to pay attention. She relaxed into it anyway, her body sinking deeper into the couch cushions as the minutes passed.

Dakota stayed beside her on the couch for the entirety of the movie. In a way, she had grown used to her constant presence. It had almost become comforting.

If she squinted just a little, she could almost imagine what they looked like from the outside. Two women on a couch, their knees almost touching. A blanket folded neatly over the armrest instead of pulled between them. The glow from the TV lighting their faces in alternating pinks and purples. Nothing remarkable, just slightly normal.

The thought startled her with its intensity.

Normal meant safety, and quietness and unremarkable evenings. Normal meant choosing a bad movie because there was no reason not to. Normal meant knowing someone’s presence so well that it faded into comfort. Normal was losing control.

Viktoriya's chest tightened.

She glanced sideways at Dakota. Her mouth twitched at a joke one of the actors made and her shoulders loosened as she laughed.

Dakota Sanchez was her rival, and she hated her. She hated that they skated against each other. Hated whenever she won medals that should've been hers, or landed jumps better than she ever could. She could hate her for all those reasons and still want Dakota in her life. At that moment Viktoriya realized that she couldn't keep thinking of Sanchez as her rival. They were married and they shared an apartment together—they weren't pinned against each other on the ice anymore, and maybe they hadn't been for a long time.