Page 13 of Off the Edge

She laughed, then straightened. “Is it, though?”

“Girl, you are ruthless.”

“You know it.”

“We can’t beat him on technical,” I said, going back to the original topic of Ren’s weaknesses. “But where he’s weakest, is choreography. He’s still next level.” Especially when he’d danced with me, but I was not opening that door in this conversation again. “Choreography is where we’ve got a chance, maybe.”

“So . . . the free dance?”

Three minutes of emotion and choreography on ice. Tamsyn and Ren were good, but they didn’t have the heat and the heart, or the emotion, at least not from what I’d seen in practice. On all the messy emotional shit, I’d always have Ren beat. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Alright.” She sighed, and nodded. “That’s good. Gives us something to focus on.”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah, after I saw them . . . saw him. He’s flawless.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. But when she’d seen him on the ice, she’d been worried about her own skills, about our routine. When I’d seen him, I’d just wanted to be out there with him again, knowing how my heart soared to dance as his partner. “Hasegawa’s something else.”

The fourth day in, after dinner in the cafeteria, I walked back to the apartment block with the team. We preferred to walk, even in the cold. And it was face-numbingly cold. But being wrapped up in big puffer jackets, gloves, and hats, made it enjoyable, especially at night. The Village sparkled. Steam rose off the river that snaked down one side of the grounds, making the whole place misty and magical.

That’s when I saw Ren, striding toward the shuttle-bus stop, alone.

“Hey, I’ll catch up . . .” I told Zoe, and waved her and the others off. A glance back, and nobody was looking my way. It was dark. They weren’t going to realize the figure I jogged toward was Hasegawa.

His long-legged pace slowed as he saw me, then he stopped, probably recognizing the red-and-white jacket first. Who else was going to be jogging toward him at night? I slowed, heart thumping like I’d been on the treadmill for fifteen minutes.

“Hey . . .” I raised a gloved hand and smiled like an idiot.

“Hello.” He thrust his hands deep into his coat pockets. He wore a long, dark, expensive-looking coat, but also a red, white, and blue beanie, which had to be the cutest thing I’d ever seen on him. It flattened his hair and made the dark bits stick out from under its rim.

Okay, play it cool, don’t be weird. You haven’t spoken to him face to face in forever, but it was going to have to happen eventually. This is just that.

“You er . . . going somewhere?” I asked. Obviously, dumbass. He’s at a bus stop.

“I have to meet my father. He’s staying in the city.” He gestured toward the stop, and we walked the last few steps to stand and wait for the shuttle bus.

“I thought they didn’t like athletes wandering about Sapporo?” I asked.

“They don’t.”

I figured, from what he didn’t say, that his father had made it so he was allowed.

Our breaths were visible in the cold, and for a few seconds, it was just me and him, standing there, breathing with a whole lot of silence between us. And eighteen months of not talking, not meeting. It felt wooden again, as though I stood beside a stranger. Even though we were definitely not that. Strangers didn’t know how each other tasted, how each other sounded when they were close to coming, didn’t know what it felt like to lie together, pulled close . . .

“How’s the jet lag?” he asked.

“Brutal.”

He smiled, almost laughed. “Isn’t it, though.”

“I’m awake and ready to get on the ice at two a.m.”

His smile stayed. “I think it’s closed.”

“I know that,” I chuckled. “My body doesn’t.”

His gaze dropped a little lower, taking in my clothing, or checking me out, which wasn’t an easy thing to do when I was wrapped in so many layers. He was probably just looking at my shoes, to check they were the correct attire for snow.