Page 2

KATERINA

“What do you mean there are no other rooms available?”

My voice rises in frustration as I stare at the admissions lady, my grip tightening around the strap of my bag. She gives me a tight-lipped smile that tells me she’s been dealing with complaints all day and has zero patience left. “As I said, Miss Hart, someone was supposed to assign you to the Figure Skating House, but there was a clerical error. Unfortunately, that house is at full capacity. The best we can do is have you stay in the Hockey House until the semester ends.”

A headache pulses behind my temples. I pinch the bridge of my nose, inhaling slowly.

“This can’t be happening.”

“That’s six months,”

I say, voice tight. “You want me to live with four hockey players for six months?”

She nods, her expression full of forced sympathy. “I’m sorry, but it’s either that or you defer until spring.”

Defer? After everything I went through to get here? After leaving Russia, uprooting my entire life, and pushing past the emotional wreckage my last coach left behind? No. That’s not an option. I exhale sharply.

“Fine.”

She slides a key across the desk. “I truly apologise for the mix-up. Here’s your key and all the information you’ll need.”

I grab it, muttering a half-hearted “Thanks”

before turning on my heel and heading for the exit. The cold air bites at my cheeks as soon as I step outside. I glance at my watch and groan. The Pleasant Oaks University Ice Arena is a ten-minute walk from the admissions office, and I make the journey with quick, determined strides. Each step feels heavier than the last, and my mind is clouded with too many thoughts.

I shouldn’t be this nervous; I should be excited. Instead, my stomach is in knots. Camilla Trusova is expecting me. A legend in the figure skating world. A three-time Olympic gold medalist. She doesn’t take on just anyone. And yet here I am. Because of him . Jake Hart. My father. The thought alone sends a bitter taste to my tongue.

After all these years, the birthdays missed, the competitions he never attended—he suddenly decides to play hero. Suddenly, my dad cares about my career. I should’ve told him to go to hell. But Alexei convinced me otherwise.

“This is our second chance, Katerina. We’ll never get another one.”

So here I am, gripping my gym bag, heading toward an arena I’ve never skated in, about to train under a woman I worshiped my entire childhood. And if I fail? What if I let the past creep back in? What if the ghosts of my old life resurface? No. I won’t fail. I can’t .

The moment I step inside the arena, the tension in my body loosens slightly. Bright lights cast a cool glow over the Olympic-sized rink, illuminating the pristine ice. The faint scent of minty coolant lingers in the air, mixed with the crisp sharpness of the Ice itself.

This… this is home. The distant sound of blades carving into ice echoes in the vast space. A few skaters glide across the rink, lost in their routines. Some of them landing jumps effortlessly. Others stumbling. I watch one girl attempt a triple axel, her expression fierce with concentration before she crashes onto the ice with a sharp thud. My heart clenches.

I missed this: the muscle ache, the exhaustion of perfecting a routine, and the adrenaline rush when I hit every element flawlessly. Something inside me sparks for the first time since my final competition in Russia. Not fear. Not anxiety. But determination. I drop my bag onto the bench, quickly pulling off my sneakers and lacing up my skates.

Then—loud, booming voices from the other side of the rink pull me from my thoughts. I look up, and my stomach twists in irritation—hockey players. Of course. The universe is testing my patience today. The last thing I need is a bunch of loud, obnoxious boys taking up space when I am trying to prove myself to Camilla.

“Kit-Kat!”

I turn at the familiar nickname, and the tension in my shoulders eases even more. Alexei and Alina. My best friends.

I push up from the bench and throw my arms around them, squeezing tight. “Oh my God, I’m so happy to see you both,”

I breathe. “This stupid bad luck is following me everywhere.”

Alexei pulls back, brows raised. “Why aren’t you at the Figure Skating House?”

I groan. “Because someone screwed up, and now I’m stuck living with four hockey players until spring semester.” His jaw drops, and Alina’s eyes widen.

“Can we switch spots, please?”

Alexei grins. “I don’t know why you’re complaining because those guys are hot.”

I roll my eyes but chuckle, glancing toward the hockey players still practicing. I immediately spot Will—tall, athletic, and already grinning at me as he pulls off his helmet and waves. I nod in acknowledgment, offering a small smile in return.

Beside him, another player stands stiffly, still in full gear. His helmet is on, obscuring his face, but I feel his gaze on me—a strange energy zipping down my spine. Before I can linger on it, Camilla’s sharp voice cuts through the air. “Gather up, everyone.”

I take a deep breath and step onto the ice, the familiar sensation of my blades gliding across the surface calming me. Camilla waits for us near the boards, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “It’s good to see everyone back. We also have a few new faces—some of you may already know them.”

Her gaze lands on Alexei, Alina, and me. “Starting today, Alexei and Katerina will train with Team USA for the qualifiers and Olympics in pairs skating. Alina will be competing in women’s solo skating.”

A few people nod, and some murmur in acknowledgment.

Camilla gestures toward the other side of the rink. “If you’ve noticed the hockey players, pay them no mind.”

Yeah, right, easier said than done. “On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, our schedules overlap. We share the ice for one hour, but they’ll be wrapping up soon.”

I glance back at the hockey players, and my eyes immediately land on Will before a second player catches my attention. The other guy. The one still in his helmet. The one still staring. I swallow hard and look away. Camilla claps her hands, drawing my attention back to her.

“Now, let’s get started. Alexei, Katerina—I want to see your last routine before we begin training. I need to assess where you’re at and what needs improvement.”

My stomach tightens. I knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking. Alexei nudges me.

“We got this.”

Camilla lifts a brow. “Is that okay? Any music preferences?”

Alexei nods. “Can you play I Know Places by Taylor Swift?”

Camilla gives a slight nod to the sound tech.

“Alright, everyone off the ice.”

The skaters clear out, and even the hockey players pause to watch. I take a deep breath. I can do this. I have to do this. Alexei squeezes my hand, a silent reminder that we’re in this together—the first notes of the song play, soft yet powerful. We push off. The moment my blades carve into the ice, the outside world fades. Everything else—the housing disaster, the hockey players, my father—ceases to exist. It’s just me, Alexei, and the music. We move in perfect sync, and our years of partnership are shining through.

A single axel. A triple twist. It's a flawless step sequence. The final lift comes—Alexei hoists me into the air, spinning me before lowering me down gracefully. The last note plays, and we come to a smooth stop. The silence is deafening. Then—A single nod from Camilla.

“Again.”

She hates it! I know it! My breath comes in slow, measured inhales as I step back into position, shaking out the tension in my arms. Alexei meets my gaze, his blue eyes sharp with focus. “You good?”

he asks under his breath. I nod. “Yeah.”

But I don’t know if that’s true. The first run-through was good. Solid. But not perfect.

And Camilla expects perfection. She doesn’t say it outright— she doesn’t have to. Her expression, the sharp gleam in her eye, the way she simply says “Again”

instead of giving praise… it’s enough. The sound tech cues up the music once more. The opening notes of I Know Places hum through the speakers, sending a familiar rush of anticipation through my veins. Alexei and I push off simultaneously, our movements fluid as we transition into the opening sequence. This time, we push harder and move faster.

Our steps match perfectly, the ice whispering beneath us as we carve out the routine we’ve spent months perfecting. The first jump approaches—a side-by-side triple Salchow. I bend my knees, launching into the rotation at the exact moment Alexei does. My body twists, my skates slicing through the air—And I land. Effortless and Smooth.

Alexei lands a second later, and we flow seamlessly into the next element. The footwork section comes next, demanding precision and synchronisation. I shift my weight, focusing on each turn, each edge, each carefully timed movement that keeps us in perfect harmony with the music. Alexei grips my waist, and I push off, soaring above the ice as he hoists me effortlessly into the air.

For a brief moment, everything disappears. It’s just me, suspended in weightlessness, the cold air biting at my skin as we spin. Then, Alexei lowers me with practiced ease, and we transition straight into the final sequence, a combination spin requiring absolute control. We move as one, the world blurring until the last note plays.

We come to a controlled stop, our breathing heavy, our hearts pounding.

Silence hangs in the rink.

A few beats pass, and then a slow clap. It starts from the other side of the rink, where the hockey players still linger. My stomach twists with anxiety as my gaze flicks over. Will grins at me, giving me a thumbs up with both hands. I roll my eyes but bite back a smile.

Beside him, the other one who’s been watching me all morning—stands motionless, helmet still on. Something about him unsettles me. He’s quiet. Still. Like he’s studying me. Before I can think too much about it, Camilla clears her throat. She steps forward, eyes scanning us critically.

“Better,”

she says, giving the slightest nod of approval. “But not good enough.”

Alexei exhales sharply beside me, but I don’t let it shake me. I know Camilla. That was her version of a compliment. She turns, calling out to the rest of the skaters. “That’s all for today. Be here at six a.m. sharp tomorrow. No exceptions.”

A collective groan echoes through the rink, but no one argues.

I skate to the boards, sliding my blade guards on before stepping off the ice. The second my feet hit solid ground, exhaustion settles in. Alexei nudges me. “We’re getting drinks tonight, right?”

I give him an irritated look. “You mean, you’re getting drinks while I sit there and regret my life choices?”

“Exactly,”

Lex says, grinning. I shake my head, grabbing my bag.

“I don’t know… I still have to move into hell.”

Alexei perks up.

“Oh, right! The Hockey House.”

I groan, already dreading it.

“Oh my gosh!”

I exclaim. “What if we switch rooms? Please Alexei?”

I beg, my eyes pleading with his. Alexei snorts, and that’s when I know it won’t happen.

“Malyshka, I love you, but you know me. As much as I’d love living with four sexy hockey players, I’m an OCD freak, babe. It will never work.”

I groan, resting my head in my hands.

“Six months, Alexei. Six months of sweaty hockey bros and their stupid protein shakes.”

Alina, who’s been listening quietly, suddenly smirks.

“Sweaty hot hockey bros.”

I sigh dramatically.

“Why is everyone acting like this is some blessing? I’d much rather be in a house full of girls who understand things like skincare and personal space.”

Alexei slings an arm over my shoulder, steering me toward the exit.

“It won’t be that bad. Maybe you’ll even have a little fun.”

I snort. “Doubt it.”

Still, as we leave the rink, a strange feeling lingers in my chest—a feeling I can’t quite place.

As I glance over my shoulder one last time, my eyes land on him again—the hockey player who hasn’t stopped watching me, the one who hasn’t said a word. Another shiver runs down my spine.

Yeah.

This is going to be hell.