From Lukov with Love

by Mariana Zapata

  But this…

  This I didn’t know what to do with. I couldn’t think of the last time anyone had been this close to me.

  “I’m being fucking serious,” he whispered with all the strength and determination in the world.

  I couldn’t help but peek up at him, that’s how strong and demanding his tone was.

  He was looking down at me with that fucking face, looking more serious than I’d ever seen before, even right before competing. “I’d never make fun of you.”

  I frowned.

  He shook my wrist, gently, covering the spot where my bracelet usually was. I’d taken it off and left it in my locker. “I wouldn’t when you’re naked,” he said to me. “And who would make fun of you without clothes on? I bet none of those men out there have ever seen legs and an ass that launch a person in the air like yours do.”

  I wasn’t going to pick at that comment with a stick. Instead, I blinked at him. “Why are you looking at my ass?”

  The corners of his pink-pink mouth tilted up the tiniest bit. “Because it’s there, in my face all day.”

  I guess he had a point. It wasn’t like I didn’t look at his ass from time to time. Because it was there. “Then, don’t. Friends don’t look at each other’s butts.”

  The way he rolled his eyes did something uncomfortable to my stomach. “Jasmine, this body—these thighs you think I’m going to make fun of you over, and this ass you think the same thing of—are going to win us first place from now on. I wouldn’t make fun of it. I wouldn’t make fun of you. We’ll do it like we always do. When we step out on the ice, it’s work. It’s us focusing, not fucking around.”

  I held my breath, watching his features as I did it. “I don’t believe you.”

  “That I won’t make fun of you?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a pause and then, “Do you want to see me naked first?”

  I burst out laughing. Instantly. Without meaning to. It was the last thing I would have wanted to do. “No!”

  And from the smirk he gave me, he knew it too. “You sure? I have a mole on my thigh that looks like Florida. Maybe you’ll find something to make fun of me over, but I don’t think so.”

  I was still laughing, even though I didn’t want to—I really didn’t want to—as I glanced up at him and shook my head. “God, you’re a cocky asshole.”

  His smile was small. “It’s the truth. You can look as hard as you want, and if you find something, go for it, but I work out all the time. I have about… seven percent body fat year round. Looking at myself in the mirror isn’t a hardship.”

  I laughed even harder, but how could I not when he was being like this? This guy I didn’t know.

  “You can make fun of me, but I would rather you didn’t, honestly. I don’t like when people say I’m skinny, because I’m not,” he said almost gently, and it was my turn to blink.

  Who the hell would think this man was skinny? There wasn’t a single “skinny” thing about him. I’d seen him work out once, years ago. He’d been bench-pressing twice what I figured his body weight would be. Swimmers and runners had nothing on a body like Ivan’s. Absolutely nothing.

  Not that I’d ever admit that shit.

  The hand on my bare wrist gave it a shake. “Come on, Meatball. You and me. We’ll make everybody jealous with our work-of-art asses.”

  Was this what friendship was like? What it was supposed to be? Him teasing me? Me talking shit back but doing it with a smile on my face? If it was…

  If it was, I could do it. I thought. Maybe.

  “I hate you,” I sighed, peeking at him again because I sucked.

  Then he laid it on me real thick, those blue-blue eyes aimed right into my brown ones. “Do it for Paul then. So he can see it and regret he never got to do a naked photo shoot with you for TSN.” My wrist got another wiggle. “Or any photo shoot.”

  And there he had me, proving he knew me better than I expected.

  Because goddamn motherfucking Paul. Ugh. Ugh.

  I didn’t want people jacking off to me. But if this was a chance to rub something epic into that asshole’s face… it would be worth it. Totally fucking worth it.

  “There’s my Meatball,” he said in almost a whisper, his fingers loosening from around my wrist until they were slipping through mine, holding our hands together like we had done it a thousand times. Because we had. “We’re doing this, right? Together? I won’t make fun of you, but you can make fun of me a bit?”

  I didn’t know who the hell was standing in front of me right then. This nice, funny, gentle guy. But I squeezed his hand in mine anyway and nodded. “Yeah, we’re doing this together,” I grumbled, knowing it was the right thing. Knowing maybe I’d regret some parts of it, but not all of it. At least not if he didn’t make a puberty joke.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said, sounding almost cheery as he gave my hand a tug.

  And then we were on the ice, in our robes, with makeup on and ready—at least me for sure—and Coach Lee and the photographer immediately stopped talking the second they spotted us skating toward them. She raised her thin, black eyebrows and asked hesitantly, “Did you change your mind?”

  I nodded.

  “I only want to do this if you’re comfortable,” the photographer said quickly. “We all have nothing but respect for you and your body, Jasmine. We can work on some angles if you keep your underwear on—”

  I shook my head. “It’s fine.” I wasn’t about to say I hadn’t wanted to get naked because of Ivan. Much less because of strange assholes that had nothing better to do. Pathetic pieces of shit.

  “You sure?” the photographer asked, not sounding at all like she would be put out if I said I wasn’t.

  But I was. And I said that. “Yeah, I am.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. Let’s start then, if you’re both ready.”

  Ivan squeezed my hand—he hadn’t let it go—and said just loudly enough for me to hear, “I underestimated how cold it was, so you can’t make fun of… certain body parts if they’re trying to crawl back inside of me to protect themselves….”

  I only barely held back a smirk as this feeling of being right covered my entire upper body. “I won’t make fun of Peter, if you don’t make fun of Mary and Maggie. Those two bitches aren’t hiding because it’s cold. They’ve been hiding,” I said, evenly.

  He nodded, but his mouth tipped up a millimeter of an inch. “You know I’m expecting you to have three nipples now, right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “And I’m expecting your winky to be an inch long. We’re even.”

  Ivan made a face, his fingers tightening over mine. “Maybe an inch too long.” I groaned, but he kept going. “Let’s get this over with, yes?”

  Neither one of us said anything as we let go of our hands and skated to where the two backdrops had been set up in the center of the rink, the lighting umbrellas on and ready to go. Coach Lee approached us, looking skeptical. “Ready?”

  Ivan nodded, and I said, “Ready.” Because I was.

  It would look good. It would make a point to people I shouldn’t have wanted to make a point to, but needed to. It would be worth the other shit.

  With a deep breath that I wasn’t used to, I let it out and watched as the photographer went behind her camera, nodding at us in encouragement as her assistants got into position. “Whatever you want to do first, we can start there. Any lifts or stationary positions would be great though.”

  Yeah. Apparently I wasn’t going to manage to avoid getting my crotch out of Ivan’s face, but there was a reason I waxed regularly.

  We were about to get to know each other on a totally new level, I guessed. I could do it. Of course I fucking could. I was strong, smart, and I could do anything, just like my mom had always told me.

  “Hand to hand lift?” I asked my partner—my Ivan—as my hands went to the knot at my robe and began undoing it.

  “Sure,” he responded, almost too easily, his own hands in the same plac
e mine were.

  Either he was really trying hard to be nice to me or he was up to something. I wasn’t sure. But I doubted he’d do something fucked up in front of cameras, especially after that pep talk.

  I thought.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” the photographer called out.

  Is it me or do the lights seem to be too bright? I asked myself. Everyone knew the camera added at least ten pounds, but with all these lights, I had a feeling it was going to feel more like twenty. Oh well. Let them judge. I had nothing to prove to people who didn’t matter or mean anything to me.

  Standing in front of Ivan with my hands still on my robe, ready, I asked him, “You’re good to go?”

  Already in the zone, he nodded.

  It was time to party, I guess.

  Undoing the knot at my waist, I got myself under control, scrounged up every ounce of my confidence and dignity and reminded myself that no body was perfect, and hopefully they’d Photoshop the shit out of anything that didn’t look right even though they probably wouldn’t since the issue was called The Anatomy Issue to begin with. But fuck it. If people wanted to point out a roll if I was bent over, go for it. I’d grown up around three of the most beautiful women in the world. I’d accepted a long time ago that I wasn’t one of them, and that was okay.

  And then I took my robe off.

  No one had said anything, but I’d put white cloth tape directly over my nipples, leaving the rest of me free. I mean, they couldn’t post pictures of me totally topless, so I hadn’t seen what the big deal would be. My bare butt and vagina, I couldn’t care less about. We’d all come out of one.

  I could do this. I really could.

  And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the movement of another robe being taken off and handed over, a flash of skin and more skin, just a second before a hand was outstretched to take mine.

  Time to get it over with, I thought to myself, and turned around to face Ivan for the first time, maybe, kind of, holding my breath. I raised my eyebrows up at him the second my eyes met his, hoping to God I hadn’t suddenly decided to start blushing for the first time in my life, because that would make this real humiliating.

  “Fuck,” I heard Ivan mutter under his breath as I looked at his face… only to find that his eyes were squeezed closed.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Nothing,” he snapped back immediately.

  “What?” I insisted, trying to figure out why his skin had gotten even paler… and why he wasn’t looking at me.

  “Nothing,” he replied, sounding just like the Ivan I knew: a pain in the ass. He shook his head and swallowed. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Get it over with?” I asked, not feeling at all insulted. Maybe he was the one regretting it now. Oh fucking well. “You’re the one who wanted to do it,” I reminded him.

  “Well, I’m starting to think it was a shitty idea, so let’s get it done,” he muttered, eyes still closed.

  “Prude,” I whispered, not getting why he wasn’t looking at my face at the very least. He was beginning to make me feel like there was something wrong with me.

  So I looked at him. Because he was there.

  And I suddenly began regretting doing this again.

  Because Ivan’s body…

  Fuck.

  Maybe because I was an athlete—regardless of what other people stupidly thought—I could appreciate all the different forms male athletes held. I’d never been a big fan of male models with their perfectly sculpted tiny muscles that had to be worked on regularly, one at a time. I liked raw strength in all its shapes. I really did.

  But Ivan’s in particular had been basically painted by a master. The caps of muscle at his shoulders were drawn by pen, the lean, rigid muscles of his forearms and biceps were strong. Then there were his firm pectorals, the flat abs with eight small square shapes at them. The detailed muscles at his hips from all his lifting, and the long, lines of muscle striations at his thighs and calves.

  I didn’t need to look at his ass to know that it was high and tight.

  And I’d be a fucking liar if I said I hadn’t glanced at his penis, but like me, he’d decided to cover something. That something was hidden by what looked like a nude-colored sock that covered his junk, leaving only trimmed hairs at his groin there.

  I wasn’t going to bend down to see if I could see his balls.

  I glanced all over Ivan again and barely held back a head shake. He was seriously a work of perfection. Honestly. Truly.

  But I would die before I told him that, so I needed to stop thinking about it. We needed to get this shit over with.

  “Come on then, shy boy, before your balls start receding back into your body too,” I told him.

  That had him snapping his eyes open to glare at me, his face scrunched up. “Hopefully my hand doesn’t slip.”

  “Hopefully I don’t lose my balance and my foot goes up your ass—”

  “Okay! All right! Let’s start you two,” Coach Lee hollered, and I didn’t need to look at her to know she was shaking her head.

  I blinked at Ivan, as I stood there fucking naked and said, “Come on, Socks. Let’s do this. Maybe we’ll end up on the cover.” And I felt zero nausea or worry as I said it.

  Chapter 11

  I should have known something was going on when I got home that evening and found my mom in the kitchen, a plate of food sitting in front of the stool I usually sat at, waiting for me. She hadn’t served me dinner in years. I couldn’t actually remember if she had ever prepared any of us plates in advance… with the exception of Ruby. It was usually a free-for-all. Mom always said she wasn’t our maid, and that we should be grateful she cooked to begin with.

  So, I should have known something was up. The problem was that I was exhausted following the photo shoot that took all damn morning. Don’t smile. Look natural. Do that pose again. Can you hold it a little longer? Hold your leg in this awkward, unnatural position for one more minute. Stand there and freeze your ass off. Tilt your head this way—no the other way—and hold it there. Ivan, put your freezing fucking hands on Jasmine’s body and hold them there for two minutes.

  Fuck, fuck, and double fuck.

  He didn’t laugh every time he touched me, and I’d have to suck in a breath because it hurt, but I knew he wanted to.

  My nipples were still hard from being on the ice, covered with only the tiniest pieces of tape, and I was pretty sure my vagina was never going to be warm again. My clit had probably turned into a raisin. I hadn’t even glanced at the sock covering Ivan’s dick after the first time because it had been cold as hell. I wasn’t going to judge a man for what his junk looked like in the cold.

  Plus, there had been other things to look at.

  Everything north of the Equator and everything south of the Equator. Muscles, muscles, and more beautifully carved muscles. It wasn’t exactly difficult, even though every time his hands touched me, I wanted to punch him in the gut.

  And once, I’d accidentally caught a glimpse of huge balls dangling between his legs that had for one second, made me wonder what the hell he did with those things in his costumes.

  But it was none of my business, so I’d shoved that question aside for later.

  The important part was, we’d gotten it done. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered. We had gotten it done, and we hadn’t killed each other or made fun of one another. It had just taken way too long. Luckily, I had thought ahead and taken the day off, even though my bank account didn’t need that kind of loss. Especially not when we were going to be competing in so many events.

  Things hadn’t been awkward during our afternoon practice, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t glanced at his upper body once or twice and not remembered what he looked like without a shirt on. Just as quickly as I’d thought about it, I’d forced myself to stop. Luckily, he hadn’t had anywhere near the same amount of trouble; Ivan hadn’t actually said anything to me directly during our afternoon practice
, even after he’d been so weirdly nice that morning.

  “Hi, Grumpy,” my mom greeted me the second she heard me come into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said, coming up behind her to kiss her cheek. I’d already dropped my things off. “How was work?”

  She shrugged her thin shoulders as she turned off the water to the sink and reached for a towel to her left. “Fine. Eat before your food gets cold. I stuck it in the microwave when I saw the light in the driveway.”

  “Thank you,” I said, still not paying attention, but turning to take a seat. I dug in to the baked chicken, jasmine rice, sweet potatoes, and side salad like I was going to collapse if I didn’t. I’d eaten lunch six hours ago between the shoot and the one hour break we’d taken between it and afternoon practice, but it felt more like a hundred hours since then. Ivan and I had worked on throws and side-by-side spins for three hours, and afterward, I worked out at the LC’s gym for three hours, including some high-intensity interval training on the treadmill to get my heart ready for the 180-200 beats per minute it was going to be pumping for close to five minutes during our free skate.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom take a seat at the island too. When we were both home at the same time, we always ate together, or at least kept the other company. So I didn’t think much of it.

  Until she looked up, holding a mug of tea to her mouth and ruined my whole day.

  My mouth dropped open the instant I got a good look at her face, and I pretty much yelled, “What the hell happened to your face?”

  Mom’s blink was completely unimpressed.

  And I didn’t give a shit as I took in the tape over her nose and two puffy, reddish-purple circles around each of her eyes.

  And was that her fucking lip busted or was I imagining it?

  She didn’t say anything as I looked all over her face, a thousand scenarios going through my head at what the hell had happened to her, when I asked, “Who did that to you?” I was going to kill somebody. I was going to fucking kill somebody, and I was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

  “Calm down,” she said easily, like there was no reason in the world for me to flip out over the fact that half her face was bruised.