From Lukov with Love

by Mariana Zapata

  “You know I’ve seen naked women before, right?” he asked, with what might have been humor or smart-ass in his tone.

  I shook my head and kept my gaze upward. How the hell had I gotten into this? And how could I get myself out of it?

  It was one thing for a bunch of other girls to see me butt-ass naked.

  It was one thing for a total stranger to see me in my birthday suit.

  But it was a completely different thing for this man who used to tease me for years about my body to see me without clothes.

  I was going to have to look him in the eye for the next year. Listen to him for that time period.

  One of the last people in the world I would ever want to be that vulnerable around would be Ivan. He didn’t need more ammo for his arsenal. God forbid he make a comment about the size of my ass when I didn’t have underwear on. I’d probably try to pull his dick off.

  But…

  I had given them my word. I was going to do whatever I needed to do to take advantage of this time we were going to have together. And if that meant having to get shit about my small chest or the shape of my belly button or my vagina lips… it was going to be his dick that got ripped off.

  Son of a bitch.

  “So… yes?” Coach Lee asked, sounding hopeful.

  I still wouldn’t look at them as the reality of the situation hit me right in the chest. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “Don’t look so pissed. We’ll get it done as fast as possible. Holding you up fully clothed is bad enough, I don’t want to do it when you’re naked.”

  I didn’t hesitate flipping him off, even with my attention on the ceiling. Lowering my gaze, I gave him a mean smile. “I don’t want to see your junk either.”

  The idiot winked. “Aww, it’s not junk, Meatball. It’s the good stuff.”

  I gagged.

  Chapter 7

  Spring/Summer

  “Would you stop?” Ivan hissed at me at the same time he bumped his leg against mine under the table.

  “You quit. I’m on my side, you keep your legs together.” I hit my knee against his right back, even though I had told myself I was going to be good and get through this next hour like a champ.

  Because I could.

  And I would.

  For sure if he hadn’t sat next to me.

  I wasn’t going to be the one to screw up this interview that Coach Lee had set up for us. If anyone was going to do it, it was going to be this jackass beside me. We had done pretty well since our meeting, where Lee had asked us to try and not hate each other and keep our ugly looks and words to when we were in private... or at least not in earshot of anyone else. She still hadn’t made the same mistake of leaving us alone either, so there was that.

  But today was the day we really had to be on our best behavior. I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. I’d survived worse things for sixty minutes

  Then Ivan had decided to sit next to me, and I started to doubt myself. I had already been sitting at the bench in the LC’s staff break room when he had slid in. We were supposed to be waiting for the journalist or blogger or whoever she was to come over and ask us questions in preparation for the official announcement that Ivan and I were now competing together.

  Except we weren’t supposed to say it was only for a season. Lee had briefed me on that yesterday. The only people that need to know that is us.

  Great.

  Shifting my legs so that the inside of my thighs were pressed together and not touching Satan’s so this lady wouldn’t walk in in the middle of us arguing, I looked around the empty kitchen area and tried to ignore the heat of Ivan’s body not even an inch away.

  Then his lower thigh bumped into my knee. Again.

  “Why are you touching me?” I whispered, barely moving my lips, eyes on the door. I didn’t trust myself to look at him.

  “You’re touching me,” was his smart-ass—and stupid—response because he’d been the one to move.

  I still didn’t glance at him. “Why are you sitting next to me?”

  “Because I can.”

  “You’re too close.”

  “I’ve been closer to you.”

  I side-eyed him. “Because you have to be. Go sit over there. Away from me.”

  He was already watching me with those creepy clear blue eyes. “No.”

  I blinked, and he blinked right back at me.

  Bitch.

  “Then move so I can go sit across the table.”

  “No.”

  I turned my head to fully get a look at him. His hair was neat and brushed over backward, without one strand out of place. Today he was wearing a sweater I recognized, in a shade of gray so light it was almost white. It made his eyes stand out… if I noticed that kind of thing. “Move,” I said.

  He repeated himself.

  “Move or I’ll make you move.”

  That time, he shook his head.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’ll look better if we’re sitting together.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him he was stupid, but… I closed it.

  The corners of his mouth flexed a little, just a little.

  I scrunched up my nose and made myself look back at the door. A minute passed. Maybe two.

  Where was this lady? We had cut practice short to do this. We had barely started moving forward with training. We were doing side-by-side jumps together, and… it was going great. We moved so similarly, especially with jumps, that there were hardly any corrections for us to make. I could tell Coach Lee was pleased. I knew I was.

  Ivan knocked his leg against mine out of the blue once more, making me glance back in his direction. He was making a face at me. “Stop doing that. You’re making the whole bench shake.”

  What the…?

  Oh. I hadn’t even realized I’d been shaking my knee. I stopped and shoved my hands under my thighs.

  Then I started bouncing my heels. Where the hell was this lady? She was definitely late.

  A hand came down on top of my knee. “Stop. It,” Ivan muttered in that perfectly balanced voice that was deep but not too deep, just perfectly aggravating. “I didn’t know you knew how to be nervous.”

  I stopped bouncing my heels and slid him a look out of the corner of my eye, taking in that flawless complexion. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him with a single pimple, whitehead, or blackhead. Ever. Ugh. “I’m not nervous.”

  He snorted so loud I turned my whole upper body toward him. He was smiling. That lean face with its microscopic pores, high cheekbones, and angular, hard jaw were all lit up. He was smiling, and he hadn’t just won a competition, and he wasn’t around his family either.

  I’d never seen that before.

  Who the hell was this person? His leg hit my thigh as he asked, “That’s why you won’t stop shaking your leg?”

  “I’m shaking my leg because we could be practicing right now instead of waiting around,” I said, only partially believing my own bullshit. “Why are you in my business anyway? And why are you being so talkative?”

  The truth was, I hadn’t been able to stop shaking some part of my body from the moment I’d woken up, knowing this interview was coming. I had no problem talking to people, but what I had a problem with was the fact that I had to answer questions and those responses would be recorded and kept forever to be judged and torn apart for the rest of history. While sitting beside Ivan. Ivan who was already getting on my nerves and no one had even started asking us questions.

  No pressure.

  “You’re full of shit,” he muttered back, shifting beside me so that his hip pressed against mine.

  I glanced back at the door as I said, “You’re full of shit.”

  He made a noise in his throat.

  Another minute passed.

  Maybe two or three more. And the lady still hadn’t shown up.

  I was leaving when time was up. I wasn’t going to sit around and wait.

  “I’ll talk if you’re worried you’ll say
something wrong,” Ivan said in an almost whisper, like he didn’t want us to be overheard either.

  I paused for a second at his offer, then scoffed. “I’m not worried.”

  “You’re a liar,” he replied immediately.

  I couldn’t think of a single comeback, damn it. So I settled for, “Shut up.”

  The laugh that came out of him caught me off guard, and it only made me madder about the entire situation.

  “What are you laughing at?” I snapped.

  It only made him laugh harder. “At you. Jesus. I’ve never actually seen you so tense. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Pulling my hands out from under my thighs, I set them on top of the table and started tapping my fingertips on it.

  “Relax, Meatball,” Ivan kept on talking, sounding way too amused.

  I ignored the Meatball, even though I felt myself wince. “I am relaxed,” I lied again.

  “Anyone ever told you that you suck at lying? You’re not even trying.” He snickered.

  Rolling my eyes, I kept my gaze on the door and slid my hands back under my thighs. I was just about to start bobbing my ankle up and down when I realized I’d start shaking all over again. It was harder than I would have expected to sit still. “Weren’t they supposed to be here at ten?”

  “Yeah. It’s ten-oh-six. Give them a break,” my new partner muttered.

  “I have things to do,” I explained, only partially lying. “And why isn’t Coach Lee in here with us?”

  “Because she doesn’t need to be?” he replied, trying to make me feel like an idiot with his tone.

  Huh.

  “What kind of things do you need to go do anyway? Steal blankets from babies for fun?” God, he sounded so amused with himself. Dumbass.

  “No, Satan. I don’t do that anymore,” I told him dryly.

  “Push over elderly people using walkers?”

  “Ha ha,” I replied, gritting out the words as I glanced at the door for like the tenth time.

  “So? What are you doing after?”

  I glanced at him. “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t,” he replied easily, and something in my chest felt tight. I shoved it away.

  “Good, you shouldn’t.”

  “I still want to know.”

  I glanced at him again, feeling a sneer come over my mouth and nose. “I have to get to work, nosey ass. Is that okay with you?”

  His blank expression was confusing. “You have a job?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  I blinked. “Because things cost money and money doesn’t grow on trees?” I offered, still blinking.

  “Ha ha,” was his dry response as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave me another one of those lazy looks that drove me crazy. “Where do you work at?”

  Now that genuinely made me laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  A hint of what might have been a smile or a smirk crossed his features. “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “Why? So you can show up at my job and make fun of me?” I asked.

  He didn’t even try and deny he would do something like that. He just stared at me. I’d swear some muscle in his jaw twitched too.

  I raised my eyebrows like see? Obviously he did, because he didn’t bother arguing over it at all. Instead, his jaw shifted to the side and then back in place before he glanced down at the table, then again at me. “What’s your deal anyway?” he asked, shifting even more so that the entire length of his side—thigh, arm, and my shoulder—were lined up alongside his. “It’s only an interview.”

  It was only an interview, like he said.

  But it still made me feel almost sick.

  “I’ll only laugh at you a little if you tell me why they freak you out so much,” he offered, like that was some sort of consolation. He’d laugh at my fears, but just a little. Oh, okay. “So?” he egged on.

  I stared right into those soul-sucking eyes and didn’t reply. He blinked, then I blinked right back. That stupid smile-smirk didn’t go anywhere, and it was that, that had me hunching over to the side to lightly dig the boniest part of my elbow to the middle of his thigh in a warning.

  He didn’t flinch or move as I applied pressure. Instead, he lifted his leg to purposely press it against my bone, trying to get a reaction. “It’ll be harder to hold you later if I have a bruise on my leg,” he tried to threaten me.

  “So much harder.” I rolled my eyes. “Fuck off. You could do it with bruises all over your thighs.”

  He laughed, and it caught me off guard again. “Tell me what your deal is before they get here.”

  “I don’t have a deal.”

  “You have a problem.”

  “I don’t have a problem. I’m fine.”

  “I’ve never seen you so squirmy before, and I don’t know if it’s annoying or kind of cute.”

  I stared up at him for using the c-word, but nothing on his face confirmed he’d said anything like that to begin with. I didn’t think he’d use the c-word on me, at least not that c-word. Cunt, maybe. Cute, no way.

  “We’ll go with annoying,” he went on, still leaving that word in the open. “I’m going to keep asking you until you give me an answer.”

  God. What was with all these people in my life who couldn’t and wouldn’t take no for an answer? This was the same game my mom played when she wanted something. Actually it was the same game everyone in my family played when they wanted something that I didn’t want to give them.

  “Meatball.”

  “You’re the annoying one. I hope you know that.” I glanced toward the doorframe again. “And don’t call me Meatball in front of the reporter person. I don’t need anyone else calling me that.”

  “I won’t, if you tell me what’s wrong with you.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  He let out a little puff of breath from his nose. “I won’t. Tell me.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes, not feeling like hearing about this the rest of the day—or days—if I refused to. “Look, I don’t like the media is all. I don’t like most people period. They’re always twisting and turning words around to make them controversial. And people eat that shit up. They want the drama. They want to believe all the bad things they hear.”

  “So?”

  Did this bastard just say “so” like it wasn’t a bad thing? “So, one time I said that I thought the judging system was still not correct, and they turned it around to make it seem like I thought the person that won another event didn’t deserve it. I got hate mail for months after that. Another time, I said someone had a beautiful Y-spin, and suddenly they weren’t any good at anything other than that,” I told him, remembering those two things because they had bothered me for months. And that was just a small fraction of the things that had been twisted and turned until they weren’t at all what I thought or said. I hated people for doing that kind of stuff. I really fucking did. God. “And don’t get me started on videos.”

  Ivan didn’t say anything for so long, I had to glance at him. His thigh was still against mine, but he was frowning. I thought about shifting my leg away, but fuck it. He was in my space. I wasn’t going to give him anymore. His question came so unexpectedly, it surprised me. “So, you never said you thought the WHK Cup was rigged?”

  Shit.

  Tipping my head to the side, I glanced up at him and shrugged. “No, I said that.”

  He looked down at me and made a face. “Nothing has been rigged since they changed the scoring system.”

  I did know that. The scoring system had been changed when I was a kid after things had been rigged. What had once been a subjective point-system based on a “perfect” 6.0 score, had been ripped apart and reformed based on a stricter point system where each element was worth a certain amount of points; points that would be deducted if the element wasn’t performed well. It wasn’t a flawless system, but it was better.

  But I’d been mad at the WHK Cup back then, and who the
hell could be responsible for what came out when they were pissed as hell? “Your partner landed double-footed and you almost dropped her doing a triple twist. It was rigged.” The second sentence was a lie, but the rest of it wasn’t. I remembered the incident perfectly.

  He snorted, and that time it was him who twisted his entire body to face mine. “It wasn’t rigged. Our base score was a lot higher than yours was, and she completed all of her rotations.”

  I knew that, but I was going to be damned if I admitted that his program had much harder elements in it that equaled a much higher score than what my ex and I had. Plus… we hadn’t been perfect. Almost, but not. I probably remembered every single mistake I had ever done in every program ever. Some nights, it kept me up going over everything, even programs from back when I was a teenager. If I hadn’t been so cocky or if I had done just a little better.... How different could my life be if I had just lived up to my potential and not fucked up almost every single thing in my life?

  “Okay, it wasn’t rigged,” I agreed, just because I would be more of an idiot if I kept trying to say that it was. By some miracle, I kept myself from smiling. “One of your people just paid off the judges. Whatever you want to call it is fine with me.”

  Ivan blinked, and I blinked back at him.

  The tip of his tongue touched the inside of his cheek, and his face was smooth when he said, “I won that fair and square.”

  “I won third place that night, and I landed everything fine.”

  He blinked again. “You landed everything fine, but your choreography was atrocious and you pulled back on your jump sequences after what’s-his-face bailed on the 3S in the event before that one. You also looked like a robot, and your partner looked like he was on the verge of throwing up the entire time.”

  He had a point but….

  Ivan shrugged so casually I wanted to backhand him. “Your music sucked too.”

  The only sucking going on in that moment revolved around me sucking in a breath. “Excuse me. What are you? A musical genius?” I snapped.

  He lifted a shoulder. “I have a better ear than you do. Don’t get mad. You’re either born with it or you aren’t.”