Page 2

After leaving the stadium, I turned off my phone and holed up in my hotel room. After scarfing room service—vodka pasta, truffle fries, and multiple glasses of wine—I promptly passed out. Between the competition and the crying, my body completely shut down within minutes.

In the morning, I was still mentally reeling from our shitty scores, so there’s no way I was mentally prepared for what happened when I turned my phone back on.

My face was splashed all over the internet.

All. Over.

And it wasn’t a good look.

Sure, my maroon dress—which I designed and painstakingly rhinestoned myself—was sparkling beautifully, and my white-blonde hair was slicked back in a perfect low bun, but the way I was pointing a harsh finger and practically snarling made me cringe.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. As I continued clicking, I saw more pictures with my shoulders hitched up and tears blubbering from my eyes.

Fuck .

Memes were already circulating.

My phone was buzzing so much I was afraid it was going to break.

Everywhere I looked, from CNN to Fox to Buzzfeed to even Barstool, they were detailing my mental breakdown.

Since when did figure skating get this much press outside of the Olympics?

And then there were the comments…

People from all over the world were trolling me, calling me a bad sport, a spoiled brat, a trainwreck.

I couldn’t argue with the latter two, but the bad sport claim? I’d be lying if I said that didn’t spear me right through the heart. A little part of me had always been worried about that. It wasn’t news that all I ever cared about was winning, but…I never thought that was a bad thing.

Maybe it was bad?

I’d been like that for as long as I could remember.

Some of my earliest memories were of me wanting to win.

I wasn’t taught to be like that, it was just my nature.

My parents always tried to make sure I was having fun, but let’s be real—losing was not fun.

I wanted gold, and that was the beginning and end of everything for me.

Maybe that just meant I was a mean person, and the whole world already recognized it, I was just the last one to clue in on it. And if that were true…well, then that was a tough pill to swallow.

The whole uber trip to the airport, Patrick kept giving me worried glances, like he was afraid I was about to fall apart or scream my head off again.

A desperate bubble of helplessness clawed at my throat because there was nothing I could do to fix yesterday.

No amount of talking about it would help.

I already blew up and spewed all my rage and sadness out into the world.

Like a tube of toothpaste, there was no shoving it back in or hitting delete on what I said or did.

Now the whole world just thought I was crazy.

After making our way through security, I muttered to Patrick that I’d meet him at the lounge and then I hightailed it to Starbucks.

I ordered myself an iced chai latte, then tacked on Patrick’s usual iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso as well. While I embarrassed myself with yesterday’s mental breakdown, I also embarrassed him, and I needed to brainstorm ways to make it up to him .

While waiting for our coffees, my phone started ringing, alerting me that my best friend, Mer, was calling for the fifth time this morning. I wasn’t ready to talk about yesterday, but I couldn’t keep ignoring everyone. Steeling my spine, I answered.

“Did you look online?” she asked in a rush.

“Yeah.” I braced myself, waiting for her to give me more bad news.

“I’m sorry, P,” she barreled on. “It’s not your fault, you were ripped off.

I seriously choked on my coffee when I saw your scores, you can ask Colt, I really did.

I was so shocked. And ya know what? Every figure skater knows exactly how you felt, you were just the only one to say it.

Seriously, like, I know the exact feelings.

Pretty sure everyone has screamed ‘I hate this sport’ at one point or another.

” A deeper voice mumbled something in the background and then she added, “Colt says hockey players get it too.” Colt, her husband, played in the NHL for the Windy City Whalers.

I watched the two of them fall in love as teenagers, but life—along with some other outside forces—broke them apart.

Mer followed me to Chicago last fall and it only took a couple weeks for them to fall madly in love again.

“Yeah, too bad the rest of the world doesn’t understand that,” I muttered.

“Who cares about the rest of the world? Just stay off the internet today, okay?” Mer added in a worried voice. “Take a break until it blows over.”

“You sound worried, Mer, I’m fine.” I forced a chuckle.

“How’s Lucy doing?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Lucy was Colt’s six-year-old daughter. I usually wasn’t a huge fan of kids, but Lu was an exception.

Each time I was around, she’d follow me like a shadow, asking where I purchased each piece of my outfit and asking how to pronounce fashion brands.

She was basically an adorable little hype-woman and mini-me built into one.

“She’s here,” Mer said, and I could hear the adoration in her voice. “She loved watching you and Patrick. She was trying to copy your moves in the living room,” she said with a light laugh.

A smile tugged at my lips. “Doesn’t she have her first competition soon?” I checked my watch. She was competing in a local basic skills figure skating competition this weekend. I hated that I was missing it.

“Yupp, she’s ready,” Mer said. “Here, I’ll put you on speakerphone so she can hear you.”

“Auntie P?” Lucy asked in a sweet voice.

“How’s it going, girlfriend? You ready?”

“Yes, I can’t hardly wait! I’m even wearing lipstick!” she said in a high-pitched squeal.

“Only for today,” Colt added in a stern voice, making Mer and I both chuckle.

“I bet you’ll look absolutely fab on the ice. Make sure you guys take a bunch of pictures and videos for me, okay? We’ll go out for a girls’ night to celebrate when I get back, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Lucy squealed with happiness, making me smile.

“Can I come?”

The smile slid right off my face. Because I knew that voice.

Richard Charles Kappers the Third, known as “Kappy” in the hockey world, and known as “Dick” in mine, was best friends and teammates with Colt, so we’d been forced in each other’s orbit for years.

Now that Colt and Mer were getting married next month, Kappy and I would be tied together for life.

There was a time when I thought, or maybe just hoped, there was something more to our fighting, something deeper.

After all, there’s a very thin line between love and hate, right?

And it’s practically shoved into girls’ brains that boys are mean to girls when they like them.

But lemme tell ya—that way of thinking just leads to heartbreak.

I basically ended up handing him the chance to make a fool out of me.

He took it. I still held a grudge over it.

“Why is he always at your house?” I demanded between clenched teeth.

“I’m starting to think he’s homeless,” Mer said with a little laugh.

“Hey, just because I don’t like my place doesn’t mean I don’t have one,” Kappy argued back.

“Uh, here’s an idea, if you don’t like your place, maybe go get a new one?” I huffed into the phone, annoyed that he overheard our conversation. “Dumbass,” I added under my breath.

“Hey, that’s mean,” Kappy interjected. “Just for that, I might have to repost some of your meltdown videos.”

I ground my teeth together so hard they could crack. “It’s not mean if it’s the truth, Dick, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Ya know what? Whoever told you to be yourself was doing you a big disservice, Piper the Viper,” Kappy warned.

I scoffed at his old nickname for me. He literally nicknamed every single person in his life. “At least I—”

“Okay, okay,” Mer cut me off with a tense laugh. “Let’s take it down a notch, guys.”

“ He’s the one who said he’s going to repost those videos,” I blurted out.

“Because you were mean. I need to show the world your true nature, Viper,” Kappy argued. “It’d be a public service announcement at this point. Here, lemme just pick one of these videos. Oooh, she’s really glaring in this one.”

A mixture of anger and panic flared to life in my chest. As one of the NHL’s most beloved players, he had millions of followers. Millions . “Mer!” I burst out.

“No, he won’t repost anything, I’m confiscating his phone,” Mer promised. “I just wish I could confiscate yours, too.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, not wanting to be on the line with Kappy any longer. “I’m getting in late tonight. We’ll chat tomorrow.”

“You promise you’ll stay off your phone?” she asked with a warning edge to her voice.

“Can’t get off it if I’m talking to you,” I tried to joke.

“Okay,” she said with a deep breath. “Call back if you need anything. I can come stay with you.”

“Me too!” Lucy added.

I smiled at her little voice. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll stay off my phone, promise,” I said before hanging up.

It took me all of five minutes to break that promise.

After grabbing our drinks and making it up to the lounge where Patrick was fast asleep waiting for our flight, I sat there watching video after video of people making fun of me.

My chest ached with regret.

But here’s the thing: I wished I could’ve been like other people who could shrug off bad scores and bad performances and say they did their best, but I just couldn’t.

That just wasn’t me. It’d never ever been me.

Over the years, I tried hard to change, to hide my emotions, to not care so much, but…

I always failed. I would never be satisfied with silver, and I couldn’t pretend otherwise.

Did that make me an egomaniac? A narcissist? An asshole?

I fucking hoped not.

I cared about other people, I did. I had empathy and shit, I was sure of it. I just wanted to win.