From Lukov with Love

by Mariana Zapata

I swear on my life he smacked his lips together. I wanted to smack him.

The smart-ass crept up my throat, not going anywhere, especially not after his hand went up to his cheek and his middle finger scratched at the tip of his nose. Ass.

It was, but I would have to make it work. I was going to end up quitting my job and stripping. Jesus Christ.

Money. Money. Money. And more money. But I didn’t even care. All the more chances to win.

Hesitating for just a moment, I extended my hand out toward him. And it hovered there. For a second. For two seconds. For three seconds. Three more seconds and I was going to slap him in the face.

Ivan gave my fingers a hard squeeze. And I squeezed his as hard as I could right back.

One step at a time. I knew that. One small step at a time, to build another step and another until we had an entire staircase.

I blew out a breath and gave my wrist a shake… because it was a little achy, not because I wanted to punch him already. Nope.

He raised an eyebrow, and I didn’t miss how he didn’t argue the fact we didn’t like each other. Ass.

That time, it was my turn to blink, because who the fuck was this person? What do you need from me? What the fuck? And why was he bringing up Paul?

“Notice how you didn’t say you would’ve caught me doing a trust fall.” “I wouldn’t have.” I fucking knew it.

I wasn’t going to tell my brothers or sisters in advance, mostly because I liked it when they all lost their shit over things and threw tantrums. It made me laugh. And it made me happy that they cared.

“What did Nancy Lee ask you about me?”

“If I thought you were done. That’s what she asked.”

“If you listened. If you worked hard. If I would coach you again,” she kept going, that hard-as-steel face focused on mine. “I say yes. I said you were meant to have a partner. You have the shoulders. The arms. It was me that didn’t follow you. I said to her you were the best I ever taught—”

—you only live in that head too much, yozik. You know this. You care too much. You know this too. I tell her all this too. Nobody deserves a chance like Jasmine, I say.” Her gaze was intent on mine as she finished. “I also tell...

It was really hard to keep a secret in my family, and the only reason why my mom and Ben—who was the only person other than her who knew—had kept their mouths closed was because they had both agreed it would be more fun to piss off my siblings by not saying anything and letting them find out the hard way I was going to be competing again.

Life was all about the little things.

I typed out a reply, because knowing them, if I didn’t, the next time I looked at my phone, I’d have an endless column of JASMINE on there until they heard from me. That didn’t mean my response had to be what they wanted.

His head was turned toward me. Of course it was. He was always fucking looking at me, trying to get a reaction.

Neither one of us said a word, but our eyes met. And I mouthed you suck. And he whispered back with his pale pink mouth, you suck more.

I didn’t ignore Coach Lee, but all I’d promised was not to say anything. So I didn’t worry about it when I moved my lips at Ivan again. Eat shit. His tongue tapped at the inside of his cheek. Then he opened his mouth. I’m looking at it.

It took everything in me to keep my mouth shut, and I bet it took him the same amount of effort too.

No fucking thanks. Stripping or the kidney black market it would be.

There was a video of us from a couple of years ago that was supposed to have been a recording of another skater’s practice, but it had caught me telling Ivan to suck my dick after he told me the only way I was going to get better at a spin I’d been working on was to be reincarnated.

It felt like she was asking me to pretend to love him or something. And I felt a whole lot of things for Ivan Lukov, but love was nowhere in the top one thousand words I would have used. Nope.

That was the fucked-up part. I did understand. I understood completely. My reputation was that bad that people thought the only way to salvage it was to have the little doll of the figure skating world be my friend. That if he could like me, everyone else could too. Because if he didn’t, then there was something wrong with me.

There wasn’t anything wrong with me. I stood up for myself. I stood up for other people. I didn’t take shit from others. Was that so wrong? Even Jonathan, my brother, had told me once years ago that if I were a man, no one would think twice about it. People would think I was some kind of asshole hero with a heart of gold.

“You don’t have to… kiss… or anything like that. Just… be friendly, smile at each other, don’t act like… like… you think the other has cooties,”

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.

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.

“Why are you touching me?”

“You’re touching me,”

“Why are you sitting next to me?” “Because I can.” “You’re too close.” “I’ve been closer to you.”

“Because you have to be. Go sit over there. Away from me.”

“...

“Then move so I can go sit across the table.” “No.”

“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 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?”

“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 didn’t think he’d use the c-word on me, at least not that c-word. Cunt, maybe. Cute, no way.

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.

Damn, that sounded good. Even I almost believed it.

“What is Ivan’s favorite color?” I glanced at Ivan and made a face. “Black,” I answered, but mouthed like your heart. He rolled his eyes.

“What is Jasmine’s favorite?” she asked. He glanced at me at the same time the woman looked away, “Red.” Then added like the blood of the children you eat.

I was not going to laugh. I was not going to laugh. Especially not when he looked so pleased with his fucking self. Idiot. Asshole. Then he had the nerve to wink, and I had to force myself to look back at the woman instead. I kicked him after half a second.

“Ivan’s favorite jump?” the woman continued on. That was easy. “The triple Lutz.” “That’s right,” the man beside me agreed.

“Jasmine’s favorite?” Ivan didn’t hesitate. “Easy. The 3L.”

“Can we expect to see some triple Lutzes in the future?” Amanda asked. We glanced at each other, and I said, “Yeah,” ...