Page 6 of Off the Edge

My heart raced harder now. I shifted in the chair, then realized I was restless and clamped it all down, willing my body to stay still. “I don’t know what this has to do with my welfare.”

“And that’s why I’m asking you these questions,” she said, her voice still soft.

Was she trying to talk me around in circles, get me to admit how I felt as though all of this was due to my father’s influence? Why? What good would that do? Everyone knew it. Why speak about it in this room two weeks before I flew out to Japan.

“Do you feel you’re a valued member of the team?” she asked, after I’d been silent for a while.

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

My eyebrows lifted of their own accord. “Happy?”

“Yes, Ren. Happy.”

Was this a trick question? Of course I was happy. What did I have not to be happy about? I was about to dance at the Olympics for the UK team, representing my country. I was about to compete for a place on an Olympic podium. I was in the best shape I’d been in my entire skating career. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Her silence stretched on. “Well, I think we’re done, unless there’s anything else you’d like to discuss?”

“No, thank you.” I stood. The session had ended in a record ten minutes.

“Ren?”

I paused at the door.

“I do hope you have someone you’re able to chat with, someone you’re comfortable discussing your hopes and dreams with. Otherwise, you may find it very lonely in Japan.”

Why would I need that? Dance was my hopes and dreams. I didn’t need to talk to anyone about it when I participated in it every day.

“Thank you. I’m doing just fine.”

I headed to the rental apartment to prepare for dinner out with the GB team, showered and changed my clothes, then made the mistake of scrolling on my phone and falling into Camden’s hashtags. They started off professionally, #TeamCanada and the like, but somehow I stumbled on his ever-growing fanbase and a whole array of new hashtags—#BadBoyofIce #SkatingRebel #IceHeartBreaker #TattooSkater—featuring more of his stunts and fan edits of him set to various popular music tracks.

He had a social media background, it’s where he first became popular, and clearly the internet still adored him, even his rough edges. Especially his rough edges.

Then I stumbled on #ChemistryOnIce, in which he and I both featured. #JustKissAlready featuring pictures of Camden and me drinking hot chocolate beside the open-air rink in Montreal.

I lingered on that image. We’d both been smiling, talking easily, no pressure, no expectations. I hadn’t realized then that he’d been relying on opioid painkillers to get through our training sessions, and I should have. But in the image, there was no hint of the trauma to come. Just us, sitting close, smiling like good friends.

We’d been more than that.

The internet was right, there was chemistry. There always had been, from the moment he’d asked me in that cocky voice whether I could dance, as though I was the novice to be schooled.

The press had tagged Camden with #BadBoyReturns #PartyPrince #OlympicHeartbreaker. He probably hated those. He’d always hated the picture the press painted of him. His fans however, seemed to be more accepting of his journey.

Then I stumbled on the #RenCam fandom and was hit in the face with our behind-the-scenes story as though it was public knowledge. Multiple videos and edits of our routine together, cut with the dirty dancing clip that had gotten us in so much trouble early on in the Meridian. Clearly, the internet had not forgotten that clip. #RenCam definitely hadn’t. There were some very talented enthusiasts out there, creating multiple videos with millions of views suggesting Camden and I were in a relationship. Or they wanted us to be.

Our close dancing on the ice in Montreal had provided the fans with ample snippets of the both of us in very close proximity. Thankfully, nobody took the internet edits too seriously.

I closed the apps, checked the time, and left the apartment to do some much-needed Team GB socializing. But even as the night wore on and I participated in the meal, my mind wandered back to Camden and his fanbase, the videos of him dancing, videos of his collapse too . . . edits of me accepting the gender open medal without him on the Meridian podium, and how wrecked I’d appeared to be. #RenCam wasn’t all fantasy. What they were seeing had been real. Briefly. It had been so real, that my time with Camden Navarro had been scorched on my heart as the man I could never have, the dream I’d never make real. He was the one thing in my life I couldn’t win.

I almost wished I’d never held him so close, so I didn’t have to feel the ache of losing him. It would have been easier that way.

“Ren? Are you alright?” Tamsyn asked.

“Yes.” I smiled, pulled from my daydreaming. “Just tired.”

I thanked the team and left them to their after-meal debrief to walk back to my apartment. They didn’t need me there. I didn’t have anything to talk about that wasn’t work, and we’d see enough of each other soon.