Page 71 of The Roommate Game
I want to be home.
The revelation wasn’t sudden or surprising. It had been coming on for weeks now in the form of longing looks, gentle hands, coffee in my favorite mug, a home-cooked meal, and a simple, “How was your day?” The little things that meant more than I’d ever imagined they could.
This fragile, clawing, consuming sweetness wasn’t for the soft-hearted. Especially knowing I couldn’t keep it.
CHAPTER 21
GUS
Rafe was a beautiful skater.
Obviously, I’d known that already. I’d watched him practice, I’d seen the jumps, twists, and turns with fancy names I never got straight. I mean…what the hell was a Lutz?
But I’d never seen Rafe perform in costume with music he’d chosen. It was…unforgettable.
We had a fifteen-minute window before training began. Lights were dimmed, and my only job was to push Play on Rafe’s cell and attach it to the portable speaker I’d brought from home. He skated quickly to center ice, struck a pose, hands on his hips, gave a brusque nod, and closed his eyes.
I recognized the song immediately…something older from Coldplay with an ethereal vibe. “Fix You,” I think. It was pretty.
We’d had long conversations about the importance of choosing the right tune to set a mood. He liked classical music—Verdi and Vivaldi were favorites. I couldn’t tell them apart, to be honest. That usually led to a minor lecture on the structure and arc classical composers embodied in their work. According to Rafe, the best contemporary music was selected for emotional impact and power that would hopefully be reflected in the performance.
Rafe raised his hands, opened his eyes, and began to move.
His arms spread wide, he tore across the ice, nearly tipping backward like a bird stretching its wings before soaring into the night sky. And that was exactly what he reminded me of in his dark trousers and the nearly sheer top that shimmered and glittered like falling stars.
Rafe gained speed and jumped, and for a heart-stopping moment, he hung in the air…then began to spin. He landed seamlessly, smiling as he took off again.
I clapped like a maniac, mesmerized by his strength and beauty and raw talent. Christ, figure skating was like…athletic art.
His friend Celine had told me in passing that Rafe was a gifted choreographer with a reputation for incorporating a whimsical signature to required elements.
“If he’s in the zone, he’s unbeatable,” she’d said. “Did he tell you that he was hand-picked by the coach at Dartmouth? I’m sure he didn’t. Rafe doesn’t brag much, and he should. That was a big deal. He’s won some impressive awards. People know who he is, and I don’t think he realizes it. My boy is the real thing.”
I could see it. Rafe’s confidence grew with each stride and complicated twist. Amazing.Sofucking amazing and so?—
“Who are you?”
I gave a quick sidelong look at the pudgy, white-haired man with a Russian accent who’d sidled next to me, his attention fixed on Rafe. He was one of Rafe’s coaches…I knew that much. “I’m Gus, Rafe’s…roommate.”
“The hockey player. The captain of the team. I’ve heard of you.”
“Ah.”
“You have a reputation for liking a good time.” A statement of fact delivered with a slice of judgment. “You like figure skating too.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered and hoped he’d move on. “Yeah. Rafe’s pretty damn good.”
“He is extraordinary,” the older man agreed in a monotone. “He could be a household name one day…if he continues to work.”
The music swelled in a crescendo. A triple twist, a leap, a sitting spin and slowly…he stilled.And I will fix you.
I grinned, forgetting the older man as I whooped and cheered for my…friend, my lover, my…person. Rafe bowed and laughed, resting his hands on his knees. I saw the moment he noticed his coach. His smile dimmed and he glanced away.
I should have been pissed at the little guy’s timing, but it hadn’t spoiled the show for me. Rafe was, as he’d put it…extraordinary.
The Russian remained stoic. He didn’t applaud, and his expression didn’t crack. He just stared and pivoted to face me.
“You see, yes? It’s good.”