Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
For a few minutes, everything is simple again.
No Nathan, no scandal.
Just skating.
But it’s fragile.
I glide through a Biellmann spin, my signature move. One arm reaches back to grab my blade as I spin faster, my body bending and core burning. The announcers used to rave about my spins. But Nathan’s voice would cut through the praise, pointing out the smallest flaw.
“Hold it longer, Ava. That was sloppy. Do it again.”
With a flick of my toe pick, I exit the spin and launch into a sequence of jumps. The final combination is a quadruple salchow, the one I always struggle with. My body surges into the air, muscles tense as I twist four times before landing cleanly. My knees bend with the impact, and for a second, I can almost imagine the roar of the crowd.
But it’s all in my head. The only sound is the empty arena and my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
The peace that follows is short-lived as a chill races down my spine.
Just like that, the moment is gone.
Vanished into thin air.
I whip around, gaze scanning the seats.
It’s enough to have my skin prickling with unease.
There’s no sign of him, no figure lurking in the shadows, but the feeling refuses to be evicted.
It’s like he’s still here, somewhere, watching.
I shake my head, trying to shove the paranoia away. But ever since the text messages started, every little thing feels like a warning.
A threat.
It’s exhausting, and I’m tired of looking over my shoulder.
My eyes catch movement by the benches, and I freeze.
Hayes.
He’s sitting there, watching me, as if he has every right to do so.
My stomach flutters with nerves. Seeing him has become a weird kind of relief, even though I don’t want it to be. Even though he’s the last person I should be thinking about.
I take off in the opposite direction, attempting to ignore him, but it’s useless. His gaze is heavy and distracting. When I can’t stand another moment, I cave and skate toward him, coming to an abrupt stop a few feet away.
“What are you doing here?”
“Watching you skate,” he says easily, his voice calm and brimming with confidence.
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. “Why?”
“Why am I watching you?” His lips quirk into a half-smile, like the answer is obvious.
I give him a sharp nod.
He leans back, eyes thoughtful. “Maybe because you’re really good, and I find it... soothing.”
The breath I’d been holding whooshes from my lungs, leaving me speechless.
Soothing?
My brain is usually quick to fire back with something biting, something that will make him retreat.
But this?
I don’t know what to do with this.
“Do you have a problem if I like to watch?” His voice is lower now, a bit rougher, and when I meet his eyes again, there’s something in them that makes my pulse jump.
Heat floods my cheeks.
I blink, trying to find my footing, but it’s like he’s pulled the ice out from under me. “If you’re just watching me skate,” I manage to mumble.
“I am.” He grins, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Unless there’s something else you had in mind.” When I narrow my eyes in response, he changes the subject. “Did you used to compete?”
It’s a challenge to shove the memories back down where they belong.
“Yes.”
“But not anymore?”
“No.”
When I don’t elaborate, he asks, “How come?”
The air feels tight around me, like there’s not enough oxygen to go around. “I just don’t. End of story.”
His gaze sharpens, and for a second, I feel like he sees more than I want him to. More than I’m comfortable with. “I don’t believe that,” he says quietly. “Something tells me there’s more to the story. How about you tell it to me over coffee?”
I blink, thrown off by the casual invitation. “What?”
“Coffee,” he repeats. “It’s a drink. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before.”
I cross my arms tightly over my chest. “Are you seriously asking me out?”
His lips curl into a smile that has alarm bells blaring in my brain. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
I shake my head, trying to clear the sudden fog that has descended. The last thing I need is for it to cloud my judgment. “No. That’s definitely not a good idea.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Why not?”
“You do realize who my dad is, right?” The reminder should be more than enough to make him back off.
But Hayes doesn’t even flinch. “It would be hard not to.”
I exhale sharply. “Look, I’m not interested.”
His green eyes stay locked on mine, and I brace for the typical male reaction—annoyance, frustration, anything that might knock him off his axis. Instead, his smile widens as his eyes spark with amusement. “Just out of curiosity, are you always in the habit of lying to yourself?”
A gurgling laugh slips out of me. “Excuse me?”
“You’re interested. But for whatever reason, you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
My jaw drops as I stare at him. How does this guy manage to throw me off-kilter at every turn? “You’re really cocky, you know that?”