Was I?

Standing there, looking at both of them, I asked what felt like the most important question of my life because I just wanted to get it over with. Either we were doing this or we weren’t. I wasn’t good with anticipation. I wasn’t patient. “Do we have a deal?”

There was another pause, and Coach Lee finally glanced in Ivan’s direction for what must have been half a minute at least before she made an amused noise. Her mouth twisted to the side and then back. She took her time moving her attention back to me, and then blinked.

And I thought, we don’t have a deal.

And my stomach sank.

And for the first time in forever, I thought I was going to throw up and I wanted to kick my own ass.

“Fine,” came the unexpected reply straight out of Ivan’s mouth, not looking at all like he was excited to do it… and still watching me carefully. Still not making a face. Not looking at all like this was a major decision when it was the total opposite for me.

But I didn’t let his little bitch face distract me from what the hell had just happened.

He’d agreed.

He had agreed.

Holy fuck.

I was going to compete again.

Once, when I was younger on vacation, I’d gone with my brother to the beach and we’d decided to go cliff diving. I remember jumping in from a spot so high, my mom would have killed me if she’d seen it. Even my brother had chickened out at the last minute. But I hadn’t.

I hadn’t been expecting how far under the water I would go when I dove in. I’d had to hold my breath for so long as I kicked and kicked and kicked to reach the surface, it had felt like I’d never make it. For maybe half a second, I had thought I was going to drown. But when I reached the surface, I would probably always remember what it was like to take that first breath of air. To take that first breath of air and think I had done it.

Sometimes it’s easy to take something so essential to your existence for granted.

More than ever, I understood it then as I stood there, taking turns looking between Coach Lee and Ivan and feeling… feeling like I was supposed to be feeling. Like I was alive again. Like I was right.

But…

There was one more thing that I hadn’t taken into consideration while I’d been worried about everything else. Something that was just as important as the other two things. Maybe even more.

It was a deal breaker. A deal breaker that my pride didn’t want to even factor but had to. I was trying to be an adult. “There’s one more thing.” I swallowed and fought back the temptation to keep my mouth shut. “How much are coaching and choreography fees going to be?”

I wasn’t going to ask my mom to contribute as much as she used to. But I also had a vague idea how much Ivan paid his choreographers. I had called one once and gotten pissed off when he told me his rates.

I was already cringing on the inside, expecting the worst. There was no way Coach Lee was cheap either. My past two coaches hadn’t been the most expensive, but they hadn’t been the cheapest either, because they coached other figure skaters at the same time at different levels in their careers.

So when Ivan blinked at me and Coach Lee said nothing, my thoughts went straight to shit.

I was going to have to ask them to let me defer my payment until the season was over so I could sell a kidney. Fuck it, I could wear a wig and strip. I didn’t have any birthmarks to give me away.

“Ivan will cover coaching and choreography fees, but you’ll be responsible for travel and your wardrobe,” the other woman said after a moment too long.

The muscles at my shoulders went tight, my gaze went to Ivan, and I asked him, when I knew better, “You will?”

Those gray-blue eyes lazily blinked before he said, “You can pay for half if you want.”

I wasn’t that prideful.

So I blinked right back at him. “Nope.”

He straightened in his seat, that face, which had been on a lip balm commercial once, stayed perfectly even. “You’re sure?” he asked, that annoying tone prickling at his words.

“I’m sure.”

“Positive?”

This bitch. I narrowed my eyes. “Positive.”

“I don’t mind splitting it,” he kept going, the corner of his mouth coming up into a baby smirk I was way too familiar with.

I ground down on my molars. “Nope,” I repeated myself.

“Because we—”

“Okay,” Coach Lee butted in, shaking her head. “I think I’m going to need a raise to deal with both of you.”

That had both of us turning our heads toward her.

“I’m fine. It’s him,” I said at the same time Ivan said, “It’s her fault.”

The older woman shook her head some more, giving us both expressions that said she was already fed up with our shit. “You’re both professionals and mostly adults—”

Mostly an adult?

It was just because I didn’t know Coach Lee well enough yet that I kept the scoff in my mouth.

“This is going to be a lot of work, and both of you are aware of that. This bickering thing you have going on, save it for the evenings when we’re done if you can’t get past it. We don’t have time to waste,” she said, using that tone my mom used when she was fed up with our shit.

I kept my mouth shut.

Ivan didn’t.

“I’m professional,” he muttered.

The other woman just stared at him. “We talked about this.”

He gave her a look, and she gave him one right back.

I almost smiled… until I took in what they were saying… and what they weren’t. What the hell had they talked about? How we always argued and needed to get past it if we were going to partner up? Because that would actually make a lot of sense. It was one of my biggest worries, but I knew I could keep it to myself.

At least most of the time.

The woman turned her head to look at me. “Jasmine, will that be a problem?”

I didn’t trust myself to look at Ivan, so I kept my gaze on my new coach. God, that felt weird to even think that. “Save it for afterward. I can do that.” It would probably be harder than actually practicing so much, but I could do it.

“Ivan?”

If he glanced at me or didn’t, I had no idea, all I heard was what was basically a grumbled, “Yes.”

“Constructive criticisms won’t be a problem either,” the other woman kept going, telling us, not asking.

No shit, we could handle constructive criticism—

“From each other,” she finished.

That time I did glance at Ivan, but he was already looking at me, his eyelids slit like he was thinking the same thing I was. We could already barely talk to each other. We hardly were, because we both knew what happened when we opened our mouths and aimed them at each other.

But…

I was trying to be better, and I would be. I wasn’t going to let my mouth ruin anything for me. Much less my pride. I told them I’d do anything for this, and I would.

Even if it meant dealing with this jackass.

So I nodded, because what else was I going to do? Ruin something that in the future might give me everything I wanted? Possibly lead to other great things? I wasn’t that dumb.

“Fine,” came the bit off response from the only male nearby.

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled now before we go any further.”

I glanced at Ivan again, but he’d beat me to it. He was already looking at me….

And I didn’t like it.

Stop looking at me, I mouthed.

No, he mouthed back.

Coach Lee sighed. “Excellent. Lip whatever you want to each other as long as I don’t have to hear it.”

I swear on my life he smacked his lips together.

I wanted to smack him.

Then he opened his mouth to talk. “You’re going to need to get a physical before we start.”

What? Was he for real? I was in prime fucking health—

Shut up, Jasmine. It isn’t a big deal. And maybe I wasn’t exactly in my prime, but none of my injuries would pop up in a physical.

I shut up and dipped my chin down like okay, uh-huh. What was a little checkup when I’d have this opportunity again? Nothing, that’s what.

“We need to make sure you don’t have any pre-existing conditions that you aren’t telling us about that might come up later on,” he continued on, slowly, still making a face like this entire conversation—and situation—was costing him.

The smart-ass crept up my throat, not going anywhere, especially not after his hand went up to his check and his middle finger scratched at the tip of his nose. Ass. “That’s what I figured you wanted when you said you wanted a physical, not to get my weight or cholesterol levels,” I muttered, stopping myself before I said anything more aggressive.

It was his turn to be a smart-ass apparently. “Speaking of your weight—”

No he didn’t.