Life on the Edge Read online

  “Because I have blond hair and blue eyes?”

  I smiled and tugged on one of my dark blond locks. “You’ve seen my dad. I got all his features and none of my mom’s. Got my athletic genes from him, too. My mom is ridiculously uncoordinated.”

  “Remind me to thank him for that,” Sergei said.

  He pushed his chair away from the table, and my heart clouded over, as it did every day when we’d emptied our cups. Our coffee shop chats were the highlight of my days. The lush greenery of summer had faded into autumn, but my thoughts about Sergei had grown even more vibrant. We’d discovered our shared love for literature–classics for him, contemporary for me–and our obsession with Italian food.

  We stepped outside, and I squinted from the late afternoon sun. Sergei slipped his aviator shades over his nose. “Do you have any exciting plans this weekend?”

  “Aubrey and I are cooking and having a few friends over tomorrow night. Or rather, I’m cooking and Aubrey is cleaning the kitchen. That’s our standard arrangement.”

  “Are you making Italian?”

  “I am. My grandmother’s spinach lasagna recipe.”

  “From scratch?” he asked with a teasing smile.

  “Of course.”

  The tip of his tongue moistened his lips. “Sounds delicious.”

  The opening was too perfect. Since the concert, Sergei and I hadn’t seen each other outside the rink and the coffee shop, and my sensible side told me to keep it that way. But my swirling emotions overpowered my usual sensibility.

  “Why don’t you come over tomorrow night and find out?” My invite came out in a rush. “You know everyone who’ll be there–Chris, Marley, Trevor.”

  An immediate grin appeared. “I can’t pass up homemade pasta.”

  “We’ll see you at eight then.”

  He jangled his keys and walked backward toward his SUV. “So, should I expect master chef level cooking?”

  I

  gave him my best I-mean-business face. “Oh, prepare to be blown away.”

  “You know I’m not easy to please.”

  “And you know not to doubt me.” I smiled and opened the door of my sedan.

  He laughed. “Very true. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I didn’t stop grinning the entire drive home. Knowing Aubrey was going to give me a hard time about inviting Sergei, I planned to keep that information to myself until tomorrow night, leaving her little time to lecture me.

  ****

  With one final twirl in front of my bedroom mirror, I deemed my outfit complete. I’d tried on six different ones for dinner before deciding on a soft pink scoop-necked blouse and a white flouncy skirt. From my closet, I retrieved the four-inch espadrille sandals that gave me the height I always craved. As a skater, being petite had its advantages, but off the ice I wore heels every chance I got.

  I

  jogged down the four flights of stairs from my room to the kitchen and opened the oven to check on the lasagna. The room filled with the aroma of bubbling mozzarella cheese. The doorbell rang, and my stomach jumped with anticipation. I looked toward the stairs. Aubrey was still getting ready, and I hadn’t told her about our extra guest yet.

  Fluffing my hair over my shoulders, I shut off the oven and bounded up the steps to the foyer. I unlocked the door, and the sight of Chris across the threshold settled my stomach.

  He handed me two of the four large bottles of soda in his arms. “What’s up, Short Stuff?”

  We went down to the kitchen, where Chris hopped onto one of the bar stools along the counter. My partner cleaned up well. His casual polo and jeans perfectly fit his athletic build. People asked why Chris and I didn’t date, but from day one of our partnership we’d had a sibling vibe. Since I was an only child, I enjoyed the feeling of having a slightly older brother.

  Aubrey sailed in behind us, fumbling with the chunky jade green necklace around her neck. “Em, can you clasp this for me? Hey, Chris.”

  She held up her long flaxen hair while I connected the tiny metal hooks. “This goes great with your eyes.”

  “Thanks. I got it when Marley and I went shopping yesterday.”

  Chris fiddled with the oversized oven mitt on the counter. “Marley’s coming tonight, right?”

  Aubrey eyed him with interest. “Yeah,” she said and piled five plates next to the stove.

  “Um, we need one more plate.” I shifted from one wedge heel to the other. “I invited Sergei.”

  She stopped in the middle of gathering silverware. “You invited Sergei?”

  “Sergei’s cool,” Chris said. “He’s not a jerk like your coach.”

  The doorbell chimed, and Chris leapt from the stool and up the stairs before I could react. Aubrey clamped her hand around my elbow.

  “Em, what are you doing?” she asked in a hushed voice. “You already spend too much time with Sergei. And what is he think–”

  “Shhhh!

  He’s a friend, and this dinner is for friends, right?”

  Aubrey’s mouth opened, but Chris, Marley, and Trevor burst in with loud talking. Marley was an ice dancer and Trevor a pairs skater in Sergei’s camp.

  Trevor deposited two bags of ice onto the counter while Marley gave me a hug. The sweet, flowery smell of her perfume matched her disposition.

  The bell rang again, and I scooted past Aubrey and Marley. Sergei stood on my doorstep, holding a white pastry box. I’d fantasized about that moment so many times, except my fantasy didn’t include any other dinner guests.

  “Come on in. You didn’t have to bring anything.”

  “Just something to go with that mind-blowing meal you’ve made.” He flashed a smile, and my face heated several degrees.

  I

  took the box from him and peeked under the lid. “Mmmm, brownies. Can’t ever go wrong with chocolate.”

  We joined the group in the kitchen, and Sergei exchanged handshakes with Chris and Trevor.

  “Hey, Sergei!”

  Marley said.

  Aubrey shook her head at me and pulled the salad I’d tossed out of the refrigerator. I shoved the oven mitt over my hand and took the lasagna from the oven.

  “We’re going to eat upstairs on the terrace,” Aubrey announced.

  Everyone poured drinks and reached for plates, and Sergei moved next to me as I cut into the lasagna.

  I

  gave him a wide smile. “You ready to be amazed?”

  ****

  “Em, you want more soda?” Trevor asked as he stood.

  I

  passed him my empty plastic cup. “Yes, please.”

  We had long finished dinner, but everyone remained around the big patio table, talking and listening to the stereo Aubrey had set up. Sergei had eaten two helpings of lasagna, and his compliments made me giddy. I couldn’t stop staring at him. His oxford shirt matched his eyes, and its opened top button revealed a glimpse of smooth, tanned skin.

  Whenever my gaze roamed to Sergei across the table, I found him looking back at me. Sometimes his lips curled into a smile; other times, he quickly averted his eyes. Our evening-long tango of stares had my head spinning. Thankfully, Chris was too busy ogling Marley to notice us, and Aubrey and Trevor were engaged in their usual snappy banter.

  Trevor returned with my drink and nudged Aubrey’s arm. “Have you been playing Death Race?” Despite her girly-girl appearance, Aubrey was a fierce video game competitor.

  “Last time I played was the night I kicked your butt.”

  “Ouch!” Chris bumped Trevor’s broad shoulder. “You gonna take that, man?”

  Trevor pointed at Aubrey. “It’s time for a rematch. You game?”

  Aubrey jumped up. “You. Me. Downstairs.”

  “Marley, we can show ‘em how it’s done,” Chris said.

  “I need to get going. I have to drive to Providence tomorrow morning for my sister’s birthday.”

  Chris’s face sagged, and I made a mental note to harass him later about his apparent new crush
.

  “Tell her happy birthday for me,” I said, walking Marley to the door.

  Chris, Aubrey, and Trevor disappeared into the house, and Marley waved her dainty fingers. “See you Monday!”

  Sergei had gotten up with everyone, and he stood next to me in front of the sliding glass door. I put one hand on my hip.

  “Don’t tell me you’re leaving, too?”

  “What, you don’t want to join in the fun downstairs?” His tongue poked inside his cheek, suppressing a grin.

  I

  dropped onto one of the wrought iron chairs. “They could be down there for hours. You have no idea how serious they get when they play.”

  Sergei stuck his hands in his jean pockets and took two hesitant steps toward the table. “I don’t want to overstay my welco–”

  “Trust me, you’re not,” I interrupted. “I’d love the company.”

  He smiled and sat across from me. “I didn’t realize it’s after midnight. I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

  “We do these little dinner parties a lot. Consider yourself with a standing invitation.”

  “I appreciate that. There are a few people at the rink I do things with but no one I consider a close friend.” Sergei looked me straight in the eyes. “I think I talk to you more than anyone else.”

  My

  heart fluttered like a leaf in the crisp night breeze. “I’m glad we get along so well. It definitely makes working together more pleasant.”

  “No, it wouldn’t be much fun if I couldn’t stand you.” He winked and sipped from his bottle of water.

  Dim light from a couple of lanterns shone on the table, while deep shadows hid the rest of the terrace. We’d never been alone quite like this, and my pulse quickened with each passing second.

  “I have to tell you again . . . that was the best lasagna I’ve ever had,” Sergei said.

  “Wait till you try my pesto pasta. I’ll make that next time.”

  He angled forward, and the lantern illuminated his intrigued smile. “What other hidden talents do you have?”

  I

  tilted my head to the side and ran a finger along the rim of my cup. “I can’t give away all my secrets.”

  A few wisps of hair blew across my face, tickling my cheek. The terrace usually served as my serene oasis; the bay breeze had a way of washing away the stress of training. But tonight the place had a new feel. The air crackled with energy.

  The CD changer shuffled to “Sparks” by Coldplay, and I sighed. “I love this song.”

  “You and Chris should skate to this for your show program,” Sergei said.

  “How is it you and I always agree on music?”

  He held out his hand, palm upward. “We both have excellent taste.”

  I

  giggled. “Of course. And while we’re being modest, we both have great ears for skate-able music.”

  “Bring the CD to the rink next week, and we can start working on the program.”

  “Chris already nixed this song. He wants to do hard rock, and I want something slow and beautiful.”

  “You make every program you skate look beautiful.”

  Sergei’s eyes lingered on mine, mesmerizing me with their shine. Goosebumps covered my arms. The music played on, and the crickets continued chirping as if the awkward pause didn’t exist.

  Sergei looked at the stereo and cleared his throat. “So, what other songs have you talked about?”

  I

  rubbed my forearms and took a sip of soda before giving him my ideas. While debating each song, we drew up choreography using empty water bottles as skaters and the tabletop as ice. I rolled with laughter as Sergei tried to balance one bottle on top of the other, imitating an overhead lift.

  Somehow

  we got to talking about pop music in Russia and then our lives growing up in such different places. The night deepened, but we didn’t move from our seats.

  “Do you miss home?” I asked.

  “I miss my family, but the Cape feels like home now. It’s quite different from Moscow, but I love it.”

  “It’s amazing how well you speak English, living in the States only five years. Before we met, I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to understand a word you said.”

  “I should’ve talked to you in Russian just to scare you.” He grinned. “But I wanted to make a good impression.”

  “You made a great impression.”

  After I spoke, I realized how gushy I sounded, but Sergei didn’t seem to mind. He was wearing that little smile again–the one I’d caught him giving me throughout dinner.

  The wind picked up, rustling the trees and sending my empty cup skittering over the table. Sergei snatched it and noticed the time on his watch.

  “Oh, wow, it’s two thirty. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stay this late.”

  “No worries. I can sleep till noon tomorrow.”

  He rose from his chair, stretching his arms. “Do you think they all killed each other downstairs?”

  “My guess is they played so hard they passed out at some point. That’s been known to happen.”

  I

  got up and smoothed my skirt. I’d kicked off my sandals hours ago, and the weathered wood of the patio was cool under my bare feet.

  Sergei took a step toward me. “Thanks again for the great meal. And the even better company.”

  “You’re very welcome. I’m so glad you came.”

  I

  stood on tippy-toes to give him a quick hug, but Sergei’s strong arms held me against him, enveloping my small frame. His body exuded warmth. I closed my eyes and breathed in the woody scent of his cologne. We’d shared plenty of hugs at competitions, but this felt so different, like we belonged nowhere else but in this embrace.

  After what seemed like both an eternity and a split second, Sergei pulled away, his hands brushing down my back. He glanced downward and gestured to the door.

  “I can let myself out.”

  My

  head bobbed weakly. “Okay. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “See you.” He held my gaze a moment longer than necessary. Then he was gone.

  I

  stood paralyzed, listening to the blood pulse in my ears. My heart beat so fast I thought it might pound out of my chest. I couldn’t have imagined the electricity I’d felt in Sergei’s arms. It was too real. And I had no idea how I could ever forget it.

  Chapter Three

  Daylight hadn’t yet appeared when I pulled into the rink’s parking lot on Monday, fingers tapping nervously on the wheel. I’d woken before my alarm and gotten an early start, even earlier than the ridiculous hour I usually began my day. All Sunday, I’d relived every look and smile Sergei and I had shared on my terrace. I wasn’t sure what to expect from him this morning. Awkwardness? Normalcy? I hoped for the latter.

  Inside the rink, two pairs of novice ice dance teams occupied the ice, while two moms on the bleachers yawned. Aubrey and Marley’s coach, Viktor, barked at the skaters over the jazzy tune playing on the sound system. I made a sharp left for the locker room and startled Sergei as he came out of the gym in a sleeveless T-shirt and shorts.

  “You’re very early.” He blotted his face with a towel.

  I

  slapped my hands together, using exuberance to hide my anxiety. “I’m ready to work.”

  “Don’t you need a partner to do that?” He smiled and wiped his arms, toweling the tight curve of his biceps.

  Seems like same old Sergei.

  “I guess I didn’t give Chris the memo,” I said with a little laugh.

  “I had to run five extra miles on the treadmill to work off that great dinner you made.” He patted his stomach. “It was worth it, though.”

  Every smile he gave me melted another morsel of my nervousness. He threw his towel across his shoulder. “I need to take a shower. See, I’m usually done with all this by the time you get here.”

  A flicker of heat stirred inside me as I pict
ured the hot water running over his muscles and down his chest. My hand flew to my cheek. “Um, carry on then. Pretend you never saw me.”

  Sergei strolled toward the locker room, and I nibbled on my lip. He didn’t seem fazed by our night of flirting and our lingering hug. As much as I didn’t want any awkwardness, I couldn’t deny my tinge of disappointment. Had I imagined the spark between us?

  ****

  “Heads!”

  Chris yelled behind us as we blazed across the ice, setting up for the triple twist. Two dancers scattered, and Chris vaulted me into the air. Holding my arms tight to my body, I spun two and a half times, but gravity pulled me down before I completed the “triple” part of the element. Chris caught me sideways, and we struggled to keep our balance.

  “How many have we done?” he asked once we disentangled.

  “Nine. And we’ve only done six clean.”

  “One more.”

  Sergei skated past us. “You need seven out of ten.” He moved over to help Trevor and his partner, Leigh, but called out over his shoulder, “Must be fully rotated.”

  I

  swiped the perspiration from my forehead with the back of my hand and repositioned the bobby pins holding up my loose bun. At the start of practice, Sergei had informed us we needed to perform seventy percent of our triple twists cleanly every day that week. Otherwise, he would allow us to do only a double in our programs at Skate America, our first international competition of the season. Doubles meant lower scores–not what we wanted in our debut.

  “We got this,” Chris said. “No problem.”

  My

  partner never lacked confidence. He could miss a jump five times in a row and stand up smiling. I, on the other hand, overanalyzed every mistake I made.

  We sped into the takeoff, and I twisted myself into three revolutions. On the free fall down, Chris took hold of my waist, and my right skate found the ice with a smooth run out.

  Chris let out a whoop and held up seven fingers as he skated over to Sergei.

  “Success!”

  Sergei smiled. “Keep it up the next four days.”

  After a water break, we started working on sections of our long program, set to Massenet’s “Meditation.” Sergei had envisioned romance when he’d choreographed the program, aiming to strengthen the emotional connection between Chris and me on the ice. Our relationship was so far from romantic, though, we had to do our best acting jobs to achieve Sergei’s vision.