Cold War: Figure Skating Gay Romance

by Keira Andrews

  The rest of the practice went fairly well, save for Dev slipping off his landing edge on his triple toe during their run-through. At least Bailey was talking to him and meeting his gaze. But as soon as they left the ice, the tension returned.

  At the shuttle stop outside the venue, Dev cleared this throat. “Bailey, I think—”

  “Not here. When we’re alone.” She waved to Caroline as the others joined them.

  The ride back to the Athletes’ Village seemed to take forever. While the others went straight to the dining hall, Bailey tromped through the snow in her boots and led the way to an isolated part of the small park nestled in the village. She was tiny, but she was a force to be reckoned with, and Dev hated to upset her. It was a cold, overcast day that seemed to match their moods.

  “Okay.” Bailey took a deep breath and blew it out. The bobble on the top of her woolen hat wavered. “The shock is wearing off, and I just have to say some stuff and get it off my chest.”

  “Okay.” Dev braced himself.

  “I feel that you should have told me what was going on, even though I know you were in a tough spot. I concede that there was really no good way for me to find out you’re screwing our chief rival. I understand why you didn’t tell me, even though it really hurts my feelings.”

  “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” Dev blinked rapidly as his throat tightened. “It’s the last thing I wanted.”

  “I believe you.” She swiped at her eyes with her Olympic ring mittens. “I just don’t understand how it happened. He stands for everything we’ve been fighting against. He and Kisa are the bull’s-eye we’ve been trying to hit for the past three years since everything came together and we started climbing the ranks. And maybe that’s not fair, to make them the villains, but they’ve always been so remote, up on their pedestal of perfection, and every day in practice the thought of knocking them down has fueled us.”

  “I know. Believe me, I couldn’t stand him. I…” Dev ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand it any better than you.”

  She took another long breath, and it fogged in the wintry air. “We’ve worked so hard. And I know that figure skating isn’t going to change. They can change the judging system all they want, but there will always be politics and bullshit scoring. But we’ve done everything we can to become the first American pair to win gold. Each season we’ve laid out our game plan and our goals and how to achieve them. We’ve been methodical and exact and we’ve given up a big part of our lives. And this wasn’t in the game plan. That’s hard for me.”

  “I know. You’re right, and I’m sorry. I’m not going to see him again. I’m one hundred percent committed to you and reaching our goals.”

  Sniffling, she nodded. “Okay. It’s over, and we’re moving on.”

  “You know you’re my best friend in the whole world. I hated lying to you.”

  Eyes moist, Bailey stepped close and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. He lifted her off her feet, and she clung to him, her breath warm where her face pressed into his neck.

  “You’re my best friend too,” she murmured.

  When he put her down, she stepped back and fixed her hat. “Okay. That’s that.” She frowned. “Where are your gloves?”

  “I forgot them in the dressing room.”

  With an artful roll of her eyes, Bailey slipped off her left mitten and gave it to him. He put it on and reached for her left hand with his right, clasping it tightly as they trudged back through the snow, fingers entwined.

  It was nearly seven o’clock when Dev made his way back to his building. He and Bailey had spent the afternoon kicking each other’s asses in the gym, and now Dev was ready for an early night, his sushi dinner making him pleasantly full. He’d normally avoid carbs, but he’d earned a little white rice.

  As he walked into the lobby, his pulse spiked. There stood Misha, in almost the exact same position as the night before.

  Waiting.

  Misha met his gaze intently, and for a moment, Dev wanted nothing more than to go with him and lose himself again.

  No. Not this time.

  With a shake of his head, Dev detoured to the stairwell and took the six flights at a run, half hoping Misha would follow. He didn’t. Lying forlornly on his bed, staring at the door, Dev told himself it was a good thing. His head agreed, but he wasn’t so sure about his heart.

  Chapter Six

  “All right, boys! Wakey-wakey, shakey-shakey.”

  Dev grinned as he rubbed a towel over his head. “Morning, Bailey.” Although they’d made up, he was still relieved to see her back to her normal self.

  Andrew bolted up in bed, eyes wide. He sputtered. “What? Bailey! I…you can’t just burst in without knocking! I could have been naked.” He pointed to Dev. “He is naked!”

  Bailey waved her hand dismissively and flopped into one of the visitor chairs. “I’ve seen it all before. When we were first starting out, we used to share hotel rooms at competitions to save money. My parents could barely afford to pay Louise, let alone all the other costs. Besides, we spend hours every day touching each other. I’m comfortable with Dev’s junk.”

  “But…” Andrew trailed off.

  “Would it make you feel better if I got dressed?” Dev asked with a smile.

  “Yes! It would.” Andrew blushed and slumped back under the covers.

  “Okay, while Andrew clutches his pearls, let’s discuss the fact that today’s the day. Or should I say, tonight’s the night. Opening. Ceremony. We’ve got practice today, and then it’s fun, fun, fun tonight.”

  As Dev stepped into his boxer briefs, Andrew escaped to the bathroom. Dev shook his head. “You’re going to give that poor kid a heart attack.”

  “He’s at the Olympics. He’s playing with the big boys now. Speaking of which…” She leaned forward in the chair, elbows on her knees as she lowered her voice. “There’s something else I need to know about your little dalliance. Now, knowing you the way I do, I have one question. Is Mikhail Reznikov a bottom?”

  It was Dev’s turn to blush, and heat shot through him as memories filled his brain—Misha on his hands and knees, the feel of his tight ass, his ankles up to his ears as Dev pounded him—

  “Wow.” Bailey whistled. “He must be quite a bottom.”

  The shower was running now, but Dev sat on the chair next to Bailey and kept his voice down. “I could write songs about his ass.”

  Bailey’s eyes widened and she grinned. “I never would have thought. I never even thought he played for your team.”

  “Me either! But he does. He really, really does.”

  “I’m torn between wanting every single detail and wanting to bleach my brain at the thought of you with him. He’s just so…so…I mean, obviously he’s gorgeous. I have eyes. But he’s always seemed so uptight.”

  “I know. But Misha’s not like that at all when you get to know him.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “It’s Misha now, is it?” She sat up straight. “Wait…you haven’t…you don’t…”

  Dev had to look away.

  She gasped. “Oh. Em. Gee. You like him.”

  “I don’t know how it happened! I can’t help it! My hands were tied! Not literally—that didn’t happen. But it doesn’t matter. We’re done. It was temporary insanity, and it’s over.”

  “Right.” She bit her lip. “Not just because of me, right? I don’t want to be an asshole. Am I being an asshole?”

  “No! It’s because of me. Because we have the biggest competition of our lives starting in two days, and I can’t allow any distractions.” He certainly needed to stop worrying that Misha could end up in a Siberian gulag if he didn’t win. Only one of us can take the gold. “And besides, it’s ludicrous. We don’t even know each other. He’s Russian! I’m American!” And he’s moving to America after the Games. Dev ignored the little voice in his mind. “It didn’t mean anything for either of us.”

  “Okay. One more question. Who came on to who? Or whom
, or whatever the hell it’s supposed to be.”

  “In Kyoto it was…mutual. We were in each other’s faces and then…”

  “You were eating each other’s faces.”

  Dev laughed. “Exactly. Then in the shower the other day it was him. He got on his knees and started blowing me.”

  Bailey shook her head. “And now you are blowing my freaking mind. Up is down. Down is up! And so on. It’s definitely never boring with you, Devassy Avira.”

  “Hey! Only my parents get to call me that.” He snapped the towel at her playfully.

  “Oh it’s on.” Bailey grabbed a pillow from the closest bed and walloped him with it.

  As Dev retaliated with his pillow, Bailey shrieked in laughter, and Dev had never been so happy to hear it.

  It had been difficult to sleep after the incredible high of marching in the opening ceremony with thousands of athletes from around the world. The American team was huge as always, and Dev had met so many new people whose names he’d never keep straight. But now in the frigid morning as he and Bailey piled off the shuttle with the other American pairs and hustled into the arena, the mood was serious. The short program was in a little more than twenty-four hours, and it was time to focus completely.

  The previous group still had ten minutes on the ice. The practice order for the groups was switched daily, but Misha’s group was once again just before Dev and Bailey’s. Dev resolutely kept his eyes off the ice while he and Bailey waited near the Kiss and Cry.

  Louise stood off to the side, letting Dev and Bailey be in their heads together as they slapped hands in an elaborate version of patty-cake they’d perfected over the years. Their hands moved in a blur, slapping high and low and back and forth. Whenever one of them needed to calm down, this was their distraction. They both needed it this morning.

  They’d just finished their second round when a collective cry of gasps and exclamations filled the arena. Dev looked up as Kisa Kostina flew through the air and across the ice for days before slamming into the boards and bouncing off. One of the other Russian men stumbled to the ice.

  Dev’s heart pounded as he watched Misha skid to his knees and hover over a crumpled Kisa. Misha turned his head and shouted something in Russian, but the medics were already on the ice, moving slowly in their boots. Kisa was still conscious, and pushed herself onto her knees, clutching her middle. She didn’t make a sound, but her face was wrenched with obvious agony.

  Beside Dev, Bailey watched with her hands clamped over her mouth. He drew her against him with his arm tightly around her shoulders. Despite what anyone might think, in Dev’s experience skaters never wanted to see their competitors get injured. Collisions in particular rattled everyone, and you could hear a pin drop in the arena.

  Dev wasn’t sure who had been at fault, but the Russian who’d collided with Kisa watched the medics go to work with his hands on his head, shock and dismay clear on his face. He seemed uninjured. Beside him, his partner wept. The Russian federation would not be pleased if the gold medal slipped away.

  “I don’t think she hit her head,” Bailey whispered. “That’s good.”

  “She’s talking. Maybe she can just shake it off.”

  Louise hovered behind them. “She was landing a throw and he was skating backward. Their partners tried to warn them, but it was too late.”

  It didn’t seem as though Kisa was going to shake it off. Misha gently scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the nearest exit from the rink, where more paramedics waited with a stretcher. In a few moments they had her strapped on. The crowd clapped for her as the stretcher disappeared into the back of the arena, Misha following close behind with a medic patting his back.

  Then there was nothing left to do but go on. The practice session finished with the distraught young Russian team leaving the ice right away. As Dev and Bailey waited to be called to the ice, he thought of Misha’s anguished shout and tormented expression. He hugged Bailey tightly, not sure if he was comforting her or himself.

  She squeezed him and rubbed his back. “We’re okay. Right?” She peered up at him knowingly.

  He nodded and kissed her forehead.

  Nearby, Caroline blinked away tears while Grant leaned down with his hands on her shoulders, whispering intently. It was clear they were all shaken. Figure skating was seen as so beautiful and elegant, but one wrong move—especially in pairs—and it could end in disaster.

  Bailey blew out a long breath and stepped back. “Okay. We got this.” She jumped in place, rolling her head, before holding out her fist.

  Dev bumped it with his own. “Just another day at the rink.”

  Bailey nodded. “Just another run-through.”

  When they took the ice, they circled a few times to warm up and get rid of the jitters. As he stroked around the rink with Bailey’s small hand gripping his, Dev couldn’t help but worry about Misha. As pair guys, their number-one job was to protect the girls. This was drilled into them from day one. Their partners were extremely vulnerable being spun and flipped and thrown into the air, and it was the man’s responsibility to make sure nothing happened to them.

  Even though the collision surely hadn’t been Misha’s fault, Dev knew how he felt watching his partner get loaded into an ambulance. He shivered at the memory. It had happened five years ago one day in practice on a side-by-side spin they’d done a thousand times. For higher marks their spins needed to be closer together, but on this day they’d gotten too close on their camel spins with legs outstretched.

  Dev’s blade had nicked Bailey’s left temple and she’d crashed to the ice in a heap as blood pooled shockingly fast beneath her head. Although it hadn’t required surgery and the stitches barely left a scar, the minutes while they waited for the ambulance had been the longest of Dev’s life. He and Louise had tried to stop the bleeding, but head injuries gushed.

  They weren’t sure who had gotten too close to whom, but Dev had felt completely responsible. And although Bailey had been back on the ice in two days, the accident haunted Dev. Bailey, always so fearless, had barely missed a beat, growling and calling herself Frankenstein and walking around with her arms straight out. They’d finally gone to a sports psychologist to work through Dev’s guilt and fear, and seeing Misha’s stricken expression brought the memories flooding back. But now wasn’t the time for it. He had to let it go.

  Taking a deep breath, he drew her close and pressed a kiss to her temple.

  She squeezed his waist. “Ready?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The rest of the practice went by in a blur. They kept their concentration and had a good run-through of their short. While Bailey returned to the village, Dev slipped on his sneakers and took advantage of the paved sidewalk that ringed the arena. The sun poked through clouds, and he put on his sunglasses and turned up his MP3 player, hoping the latest One Direction remix would carry him away. Bailey had loaded his player with boy bands at Skate Canada in the fall as a joke, but he secretly liked it. Yet today he couldn’t shut off his brain.

  He wondered how Kisa was doing. How Misha was holding up. The gasp that had filled the arena as Kisa spun into the boards echoed in his mind on a loop.

  Dev ran until the twinge in his knee told him it was enough. He’d worked very hard to avoid an injury in the Olympic year, and he wasn’t going to ruin it now. That certainly wouldn’t help anyone but perhaps the teams nipping at his heels.

  He wished he could call Misha and find out what was happening. Text, even. But of course he realized he didn’t even have Misha’s number. Dev barked out a laugh, his breath a fog in the cold air. They’d had sex more than once, and he didn’t even have the man’s phone number. If that’s not a snapshot of everything that’s wrong with this “relationship,” I don’t know what is.

  Heading into the dressing room, he passed an uncharacteristically somber Roger Jackman.

  Roger shook his head. “Hell, we all want to beat them, but not like this,” he murmured.

  Dev nodd
ed. “Tell me about it.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Roger clapped Dev’s shoulder. “Who the hell knows what’ll happen?”

  Stomach clenching, Dev walked inside. Misha sat on one of the far benches, his head in his hands. It was all Dev could do not to run to him, but the three Chinese men competing in pairs were sitting near the makeup mirrors, chattering quietly. Still, Dev wanted desperately to pull Misha into his arms, stroke his hair, and tell him everything would be all right. I barely know him. I need to stay focused. I can’t get wrapped up in his problems. Competition starts tomorrow.

  But Dev didn’t have it in him to just ignore Misha. If he couldn’t hold and kiss him, at least he could talk. Clearing his throat, he took out his earbuds and wrapped them around his slim player. He stood near Misha. “Hey. How’s Kisa?”

  Misha sat up and rummaged in his bag, not meeting Dev’s gaze. “Getting X-rays on her ribs. I came back for our things.”

  “Couldn’t someone else do that?”

  “Yes, but I can’t just—” He waved his hand. “Stand around in hospital. Better to be busy.” He pulled out a T-shirt and began rolling it methodically. “I should have seen him coming.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Dev knew the words sounded hollow.

  “I wish it was me. It should be me.” He gave up on the T-shirt and rubbed his face. “Why did this happen? All those years. The work. Poof.”

  Dev had to physically hold himself back from reaching for him. With another glance at the Chinese skaters, he nodded toward the bathrooms.

  After a few moments, Misha followed. In the bathroom Dev quickly checked the stalls—because I’m in high school for fuck’s sake—and nudged Misha into the farthest one, snapping the lock shut behind them. In the tight space there was barely an inch between them although Dev’s back was against the door. But it didn’t matter, because Dev couldn’t resist pulling Misha into his arms. With a sigh, Misha folded against him like a rag doll, his head on Dev’s shoulder.