Revolve (Off the Ice #3)

by Bal Khabra

Is it bad that I want to lick the water droplets off his face?

No...

We approach the tent, and that’s when I see them. Lanterns. I freeze, but Dylan places a hand on my lower back and ushers me forward.

Dylan holds my gaze. “You could never be nothing, Sierra.”

“How do you know that?” “Because I know you.”

“I kiss you.” He leans down to barely brush his lips to the corner of my mouth. “Whenever.” On my cheek. “Wherever.” My chin. “You want.”

Dylan’s gaze is so intense, it feels as if he’s lit the fire in my chest rather than the lantern.

That makes me take the pen from Lidia’s clipboard and walk over to Sierra. “Why are you freaking out?”

:) face

It’s in moments like these where I see her. Not for the darkness she thinks surrounds her, but for the girl that glows. Like a firefly.

If I could just be someone else. Do something else. But this sport is a part of my very being, and you can’t walk away from your soul.

“I’ll be fine.” I swallow the pain of failure that bitters my tongue in hopes that no one else will ever have to taste it. “I’m not asking you to be,” he says.

He hooks a hand around the fabric at my neck, his grip firm before he tugs and it comes undone. The sudden rush of air fills my lungs, and I nearly slump forward against my car, finally breathing again.

“You can cry, or scream, or break things if you need to. Whatever it is, you’ve got me to do it with. All of it,” he says.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

It feels like I have to choose between being happy and my dream, when all this time, I thought they were the same thing.

I couldn’t just sit and keep thinking. It’s exhausting hearing my constant worries,

“I need to practice,” I mutter. His gaze turns steely. “How to be an idiot? Because you don’t need to, you’re nailing it.”

“I never asked for you to come here, Dylan.” “Too fucking bad, Sierra.

“You’re definitely pissing me off.” “Then at least I’ve accomplished one thing today.”

“If I can’t follow you into your head, I’m going to follow you everywhere else,” he says, and then he leans in, right by my ear, until I feel a shiver run down my spine. “Don’t run from me.”

He sighs, giving me a sidelong glance. “I’m taking you home, Sierra.” “Where is home?” I ask. “With me.”

MY BABY

A sort of emptiness sweeps across her grass-colored eyes like toxic gas, choking the fire they usually hold.

I rub her back. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”

I was at the peak of my career, and now I can’t step on that ice without feeling my body break.” Her voice cracks on the last word.

“Sometimes, I feel like the old me is so far from who I am now, that if I ever got the chance to return, I wouldn’t recognize her.”

It catches me off guard, because I can’t understand how she doesn’t see how brave she is. “I could never think that. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” she says quickly. “I know hockey is important to you.” “You’re important to me.”

Neither of us speaks—her because she’s grappling with the meaning of those words, and me because I want them to sink in to her stubborn brain.

She smiles then. It nearly kills me. There she is again. The girl with the soft, bruised heart.

“Why are you all the way over there? You scared of me, Romanova?” he challenges. I raise a brow. “Are you?” “Terrified.”

He swallows, his voice thick. “You seem to be a fan of my lap.” My lips hover over his. “Something like that.”

“I don’t want it to be just one kiss.” He groans so loudly, it vibrates against my skin. “Fucking finally.”

Dylan’s hand collars my throat, and he drags my mouth to his.

My God

“You’re so pretty.” “Stop calling me pretty.” “Can’t.”

“Your friends are going to hear us,” I say. “As long as they can’t see you, I don’t give a fuck what they hear,” he says. “And you’re not holding back on me. I’m gonna make you scream, baby.”

“Didn’t think there was anything worth looking at.” Dylan smiles. “You’re worth framing, baby.”

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “I dream about you,” he whispers, and it hits me like a rush of cold air.

“Just tired. I had a long night.” Kian snorts. “Yeah, I heard. You should have seen my jaw on the floor when I bumped into Sierra as she was leaving. I didn’t know the girl could blush like that.”

He’s carrying a tray with a vase and a a sunflower, like he’s my mother. “It’s bright green,” I say, staring at Kian’s bowl of soup. “The broccoli and spinach really dominated the color. And taste. And smell.”

“Thanks. Now do me a favor and toss it out the window.” Kian scoffs. “I busted my ass in that kitchen for you, and this is the thanks I get?” “If you love it so much, drink it yourself.”

“Sierra,” I cut her off, knowing if she finished, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. “There is nothing about last night that I regret. You would have known that if you stayed.”

I want to kiss her. But I won’t get her sick. And I know if I kiss her, I won’t be able to stop.

Wrapped in my blanket, shuffling to the door in Kian’s Freudian slip slippers, I open the door to no one.

Dylan: Not at all flattered. Thank you for the care package. Sierra: No idea what you’re talking about. Time to get that brain checked grandpa. Then, two whole minutes later: Sierra: You’re welcome.

So calm and angelic—completely opposite to the very non-angelic things he did to me just hours earlier.

They won gold. I won a lifetime of pain.

Dylan quietly puts something on my thigh, and when I look down, it’s a Reese’s peanut butter cup. The gesture squeezes the crap out of my heart. “I didn’t mean to be late, Sierra.” “I know,” I say.

“Because this is all you.” I cup her face. “Get out of your head, baby.” “I don’t know how to do that anymore.” I smile. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

She could take, take, take, and I’d give, give, give like a fucking madman.

But none of this applause makes me feel like it’s deserved when she’s not by my side.

“You better be wearing my jersey, Romanova,” I say loudly, mouthing the words for her when I tap the glass.