Page 6

KATERINA

The following morning, I had one goal: to avoid Aiden Knight at all costs. After last night’s argument, I need space. It's time to let the anger simmer down before I do something reckless, like throw one of his stupid hockey sticks out the window. My knuckles are still sore from how tightly I clenched my fists when stormed out of the rink. Even now, lying in bed, I can feel the remnants of frustration curling in my stomach, threatening to boil over.

A sharp knock on my door nearly sends me leaping out of my skin.

“Kat, you alive?”

Roman’s voice filters through the wood door. I groan, rolling onto my stomach. “Unfortunately.”

“Good. Because Will made pancakes, and if you don’t hurry, I’ll eat your share.”

That gets me moving. I shuffle out of my room and into the kitchen, where the rich scent of coffee greets me. Roman is leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone, while Will flips pancakes at the stove like some domestic god.

“Morning, Kit-Kat,”

Roman greets without looking up. “Rough night?”

“You have no idea.”

I grab a mug and pour myself coffee, inhaling the warmth before taking a slow sip. The caffeine hits like a lifeline. Will eyes me and pushes a plate of pancakes in my direction.

“You and Aiden gonna murder each other soon, or should we start placing bets?” I groan.

“I’m trying to ignore him.”

Roman snorts. “Good luck with that. You two have this… thing.”

I glare at him. “There is no thing.”

“There’s totally a thing,”

he replies.

“Shut up and eat your pancakes.”

Before he can retort, the front door swings open, heavy footsteps echo through the hallway, and Aiden appears.

His damp hair curls slightly from his morning workout, sticking to his forehead. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweats, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. Our eyes lock for half a second. Just long enough to feel the static between us. It's just long enough to remind me why I hate him. Aiden says nothing. He just grabs a protein shake from the fridge and disappears upstairs.

I exhale slowly, pretending that interaction didn’t shake me. But Roman notices. “Oh, yeah,” he muses.

“Definitely a thing.”

I chuck my napkin at his head, but he manages to catch it, his smirk unwavering.

After breakfast, Alexei picks me up for practice, and I'm over the moon that we are about to train with Camilla. Until practice starts.

It’s brutal.

Camilla has us running our routine over and over again. Each time, she points out something that needs fixing—my landing is a fraction off, my hold with Alexei isn’t tight enough, and my expression isn’t emotive enough. By the fifth run-through, I’m sweating and biting back the urge to scream. Coach’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Again, Katerina. You’re being sloppy today,”

she calls, her sharp tone echoing off the walls. My body feels like it’s made of lead, weighed down by the exhaustion that clings to every muscle. We’ve been practicing since six in the morning, and it’s almost noon. The first qualifier is next Friday, and Coach has been pushing us to the limit. Alexei, too, looks like he’s running on fumes. Every time Alexei lifts me, his arms shake, and I can feel the tremor in his grip. It’s only a matter of time before he collapses, but he keeps pushing forward.

“Both of you need to be in exceptional sync,”

Coach barks. “It may be just the first qualifier, but you must show them why you’re the best at what you do.”

I know she’s right. I want to be the best. But all I can think about right now is food, sleep, and the dull ache that’s settled deep in my bones. I glance at Alexei and see the same exhaustion in his eyes.

“Again,”

Camilla says, tapping her pen against her clipboard. Alexei groans under his breath. “She’s trying to kill us.”

“She’s succeeding,”

I mutter, shaking my arms before stepping back into position.

We go again, and this time, it’s sharper. Stronger. I push through my exhaustion, channeling every ounce of frustration into my movements. Every jump, every spin—perfect. When we finish, Camilla finally nods in approval. “Better, that’s enough for today. Alina, it’s your turn. Alexei, Kat, take a break.”

I nod at our coach as I make my way towards the exit. I practically collapse onto the bench as I unlace my skates. My entire body aches; I only want a hot shower and sleep for the next twelve hours.

“Oh my god, this bitch is trying to fucking murder us,”

Alexei mutters, collapsing beside me. I laugh softly, throwing my head back.

“She is, isn’t she? But I like her. She knows what we need to work on and doesn’t make us starve ourselves.”

Alexei glances toward the rink, where Alina is practicing her quads.

“Are you okay?”

He asks, his tone softer now, laced with concern. I pause, then nod, placing my hand on his. “I’m alright. I think. I’m just tired.”

Alexei doesn’t ask questions, thankfully. He’s a great friend like that—one who listens without prying, accepting my answers for what they are.

“What’s up with Alina and that creepy guy?”

Alexei asks, shaking his head.

I laugh softly. “You mean Roman? The scary-looking tattooed guy who’s obsessed with her?”

“Yeah, him.”

Alexei’s voice is a mix of disbelief and humour.

“She was chewing him out the other day,”

I say, smirking. “That guy is crazy.”

“Crazy for her,”

Alexei adds, laughing. I nod, my smile softening.

“Definitely.”

We watch Alina finish her routine, and when Coach gives us the all-clear, we head out to the parking lot.

“Guys, Roman invited us to their first hockey game of the season this Friday,”

Alina says, slowing her pace.

“Did Roman invite you, and you just don’t want to go alone?”

Alexei teases.

Alina glances down at her feet, then looks up at us, nodding slowly.

“He intimidates the shit out of me, but I want to go. I’ve never been to a hockey game.”

I glance at Alexei, who rolls his eyes but nods in agreement.

“Yeah, babe, we’ll go with you.”

Alina squeals, wrapping her arms around us in a tight hug.

Alexei plops down next to me, nudging my shoulder. “Drink tonight?”

I shake my head. “Too tired.”

“Come on, Kit-Kat. One drink. You need to unwind.”

Alina says, wrapping her arms around my left one. I hesitate. Maybe a drink wouldn’t be the worst idea: anything to take my mind off skating and my ongoing war with Aiden.

“Fine,” I sigh.

“One drink.”

Alexei grins and Alina claps in excitement.

“That’s my girl.”

Alexei says wrapping his arms around my shoulder, as we walk out of the rink.

The bar is packed. Loud music. Laughter. The scent of alcohol was thick in the air. I lean against the counter, waiting for our drinks, when a voice behind me sends a shiver down my spine.

“Didn’t take you for the drinking type, Angel Face.”

I don’t even have to turn around. I already know who the voice belongs to. My body is always aware of his presence. I blame him for his stupid looks.

Aiden.

I scowl as I twist to face him. He’s standing there, drink in hand, looking like he owns the damn place. His dark eyes flick over me, amusement dancing in them.

“I didn’t take you for the talking type,”

I shoot back.

Aiden smirks. “That’s funny, considering how much you enjoy arguing with me.”

I grip my glass tighter. “Trust me, I don’t enjoy anything about you.”

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make my pulse stutter.

“Then why are you so obsessed with proving me wrong?”

I open my mouth, ready to rip into him, but Alexei appears out of nowhere, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

“Problem here?”

Aiden’s expression cools.

“No problem.”

He downs the rest of his drink and walks away without another word. Alexei watches him go before returning to me.

“You really know how to pick ‘em.” I groan.

“I hate him.”I say shooting glares at Aidens back.

Alina just grins. “Keep telling yourself that.”

When I get home, the exhaustion hits me like a wave. I wince as I walk upstairs, each step sending a pulse of pain through my body. I step into the bathroom turning on the shower. The hot water feels like heaven against my skin, but I know it won’t ease the ache in my bones. After drying off and slipping into my pyjamas, I stand in front of the mirror and freeze. A dark purple bruise stretches across my thigh, stark against my skin. I turn around, and sure enough, there’s another bruise on my injured shoulder.

“Fuck,”

I mutter under my breath. I sigh, walking downstairs to grab some ice. As I reach the kitchen, I freeze when I see Aiden grabbing water from the fridge. My heart skips a beat, and the air feels thicker with each passing second.

“Hey,”

he says, stepping aside to make room for me. I grab the ice and turn to face him. His gaze lingers on my thigh, his expression darkening.

“Jesus, Katerina, that’s huge.”

His words make my heart race, and I realise I don’t like how his eyes are fixed on me. I shift uncomfortably.

“It’s fine,”

I say quickly. “Practice was harsh today. I’m exhausted.”

Aiden steps closer, his concern evident.

“Yeah, but you don’t see me getting bruises like that and I play hockey, a violent sport.”

His fingers graze my bruise, and I wince—not because it hurts, but because the touch of his hand sends a fire through me.

“Can you stop pretending like you care?”

I snap, turning to face him.

“Sorry,”

he mutters, pulling his hand back, but the damage is done. I turn away, trying to steady my breathing, but it feels like everything is spiralling out of control.

“We have our first qualifier in two weeks,”

I say, trying to change the subject. “I have to be perfect.”

Aiden’s eyes never leave me as I speak; his presence is so intense that it feels consuming. “I heard your game is this Friday,”

I continue, trying to shake off the tension.

“Yeah,”

he responds, his voice distant. “Roman said you’re coming with your friends.” I nod.

“Yeah, we’ll be there.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you there.”

He says, turning to leave. As he walks away, I feel the familiar tug in my chest—the one that tells me this thing between us is something.

Stop it, heart. I’m tired of your bullshit around this guy. I force myself to breathe, but the feeling lingers.