“I wear them every day during competition,” I said, wiggling my toes at him.
“Gross?” He released my feet.
I laughed and poked him in the stomach with my big toe. “I wash them in the sink every night, silly.”
He put his big hands back on my feet, and that smile that made my stomach tie into knots tugged at his mouth. “Let me guess. More juju?”
I nodded, and then sighed. “Not that it mattered. Between the lack of an ice kiss and Penelope on the judging panel, I’m pretty sure we’re screwed.”
“You worry too much,” he told me easily. “It’s fine.”
“And you’re not worrying at all,” I complained at him. “Don’t you care if we get totally reamed by the judges? The longer you stay on the show, the better you’ll do, PR-wise.”
“Yeah, but if it means ripping sequins out of my clothing every night five minutes before we’re supposed to go on stage? I’ll take my chances.” Silence fell between us, and Ty looked over at me. “Did you see the others’ costumes?”
“No,” I said sulkily. “I was too busy being blinded by ours.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Imelda has some shit taste in costumes.”
“And routines, and music.”
“I kinda think we’re hosed either way,” he told me.
That just made me feel worse. Tears brimmed in my eyes. “I hate losing.”
“Oh, come on,” he told me, and he grabbed my calves, dragging me forward. He pulled me until my legs dangled over his lap and my butt rested against one of his big thighs. “Don’t cry. Do you need a hug?”
He spread his arms and gave me a silly puppy-dog look that made me laugh despite my tears. “You’re really taking this ‘kinder, gentler Ty Randall’ thing to heart, aren’t you?” I teased, leaning in and putting my head on his shoulder.
Ty hugged me close, rubbing my back. “I know it sucks to work this hard on something and get nowhere. We just have to do the best we can. That’s all we can do. Fuck the rest of them.”
I wiggled closer, enjoying being cuddled against Ty. He was so big and strong and…cuddly. You wouldn’t think that a tough guy bulging with muscle could be cuddly, but he was warm and comfy to lean against, and I liked the way his big hands rubbed my shoulders and back. I snuggled closer, sighing. “I feel like I failed you. Like I failed us. Just because Penelope Marks hates me.”
“You didn’t,” he whispered. His hand stroking my back slowed, and I felt his fingers trail slowly up and down my spine. “You did awesome. It’s her fault if she can’t see that.”
We said nothing for a long moment. His hand continued to move slowly up and down my spine, sending little shockwaves through my nerve endings. To my embarrassment, I felt my nipples harden. Awareness moved through me, and I felt heat pooling between my legs, my pulse pounding as he continued to lightly brush his fingertips over my back, and I could feel him through the thin material of my t-shirt. I didn’t move, I simply breathed in the scent of Ty from where my head was nestled against his neck. His big neck. Odd that I liked a guy with such a thick neck. I’d thought it was a sure sign of a dumb jock at first, but Ty was clever, and determined, and I really liked him the more I hung out with him.
Which was totally bad news.
I pulled away with a small, reluctant sigh, not trusting that I wouldn’t somehow embarrass myself around him.
“Thanks for the comforting,” I told him, trying to keep my voice chipper and hide the fact that I wanted to crawl all over him and put my mouth on his. I wasn’t his type—a stick with a mouth, he’d called me. Annamarie Evans was his type, and I was nothing like her. “I think I’ll head to bed. I’m going to be useless until they give us the results tomorrow anyhow.”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Sounds good. You going to practice early?”
Part of me wanted to pout and hang up my skates for good, but I’d learned my lesson about that. “Yeah. I’ll be up at dawn as usual. I figure if we move on, we have to have a new routine learned by next week’s show. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
Ty chuckled. “Good point. I’ll be there, too.”
I gave him a faint smile. “Night.”
“Night.”
~~ * ~~
Waiting for the live show’s results, the next day passed slowly. We only had a half day of training, since the rest had to be spent getting ready for being on-air that evening. Imelda hadn’t shown up, but she had sent over an assistant with notes for us. Next week’s theme would be ‘theatrical soundtracks,’ and she’d picked a theme from The Maltese Falcon that I didn’t recognize. She’d left a note that she was already working with costuming on our outfits, so not to worry about it.
The element added this week? The pair spin.
We skipped practicing that for now, since it wouldn’t matter if we had to learn it or not if we were voted out. Ty and I took it easy, going through the steps of the new and equally-boring routine that Imelda had picked out for us.
I was starting to wonder if our choreographer was in cahoots with Penelope and if they were determined to make us the most boring team out there.
~~ * ~~
“We have the results from last night’s voting,” Chip said. “May I have the envelope, please?” He paused for dramatic effect as a young child skated out to him with the big red envelope.
My hand clenched Ty’s sweaty one.
So far, the results show hadn’t been nearly as painful. It was only a half-hour long, which meant there was time for a montage recap of the prior night, some commentary from the judges, a singer to trot out and flog their latest single, and then the results. We’d all paraded around the ice one last time in our costumes from the night before, and then we’d lined up in the order of our scores.
“Before we read the results, I’d like to see who our judges think will go home?” He looked to the judging panel.
Oh no. My lip curled. This was going to be like salt in the wound, wasn’t it?
Penelope played with a pen on the judging table, tapping it as she thought. “I considered this for a little while last night, and I feel like the weakest link is Ty and Zara. They should be the ones to go home.”
I made a gagging face, and then remembered that we were on camera. I hoped they hadn’t caught that. The way the audience laughed, though, they had clearly seen my expression. I’d have to remember that for next time.
“And you, Irina? Who do you think should go home?”
“I feel,” she said in her thick accent, “that all of the teams did well. I don’t think I could choose someone to go home at this point. They’ve all worked really hard.”
Clearly Irina was the softball judge. The audience clapped, agreeing with her.
“And Raul?”
He considered for a moment. “I thought Jon Jon and Julia had no chemistry. My vote would be for them.”
That surprised me. I glanced down the line at Jon Jon, but judging from the look on his face, he’d been expecting something like that.
“Time for the results,” Chip said. “Based on the audience votes and combined with the scores from last night…the first team safe is…Emma and Louie Earl!”
“Gross?” He released my feet.
I laughed and poked him in the stomach with my big toe. “I wash them in the sink every night, silly.”
He put his big hands back on my feet, and that smile that made my stomach tie into knots tugged at his mouth. “Let me guess. More juju?”
I nodded, and then sighed. “Not that it mattered. Between the lack of an ice kiss and Penelope on the judging panel, I’m pretty sure we’re screwed.”
“You worry too much,” he told me easily. “It’s fine.”
“And you’re not worrying at all,” I complained at him. “Don’t you care if we get totally reamed by the judges? The longer you stay on the show, the better you’ll do, PR-wise.”
“Yeah, but if it means ripping sequins out of my clothing every night five minutes before we’re supposed to go on stage? I’ll take my chances.” Silence fell between us, and Ty looked over at me. “Did you see the others’ costumes?”
“No,” I said sulkily. “I was too busy being blinded by ours.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Imelda has some shit taste in costumes.”
“And routines, and music.”
“I kinda think we’re hosed either way,” he told me.
That just made me feel worse. Tears brimmed in my eyes. “I hate losing.”
“Oh, come on,” he told me, and he grabbed my calves, dragging me forward. He pulled me until my legs dangled over his lap and my butt rested against one of his big thighs. “Don’t cry. Do you need a hug?”
He spread his arms and gave me a silly puppy-dog look that made me laugh despite my tears. “You’re really taking this ‘kinder, gentler Ty Randall’ thing to heart, aren’t you?” I teased, leaning in and putting my head on his shoulder.
Ty hugged me close, rubbing my back. “I know it sucks to work this hard on something and get nowhere. We just have to do the best we can. That’s all we can do. Fuck the rest of them.”
I wiggled closer, enjoying being cuddled against Ty. He was so big and strong and…cuddly. You wouldn’t think that a tough guy bulging with muscle could be cuddly, but he was warm and comfy to lean against, and I liked the way his big hands rubbed my shoulders and back. I snuggled closer, sighing. “I feel like I failed you. Like I failed us. Just because Penelope Marks hates me.”
“You didn’t,” he whispered. His hand stroking my back slowed, and I felt his fingers trail slowly up and down my spine. “You did awesome. It’s her fault if she can’t see that.”
We said nothing for a long moment. His hand continued to move slowly up and down my spine, sending little shockwaves through my nerve endings. To my embarrassment, I felt my nipples harden. Awareness moved through me, and I felt heat pooling between my legs, my pulse pounding as he continued to lightly brush his fingertips over my back, and I could feel him through the thin material of my t-shirt. I didn’t move, I simply breathed in the scent of Ty from where my head was nestled against his neck. His big neck. Odd that I liked a guy with such a thick neck. I’d thought it was a sure sign of a dumb jock at first, but Ty was clever, and determined, and I really liked him the more I hung out with him.
Which was totally bad news.
I pulled away with a small, reluctant sigh, not trusting that I wouldn’t somehow embarrass myself around him.
“Thanks for the comforting,” I told him, trying to keep my voice chipper and hide the fact that I wanted to crawl all over him and put my mouth on his. I wasn’t his type—a stick with a mouth, he’d called me. Annamarie Evans was his type, and I was nothing like her. “I think I’ll head to bed. I’m going to be useless until they give us the results tomorrow anyhow.”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Sounds good. You going to practice early?”
Part of me wanted to pout and hang up my skates for good, but I’d learned my lesson about that. “Yeah. I’ll be up at dawn as usual. I figure if we move on, we have to have a new routine learned by next week’s show. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
Ty chuckled. “Good point. I’ll be there, too.”
I gave him a faint smile. “Night.”
“Night.”
~~ * ~~
Waiting for the live show’s results, the next day passed slowly. We only had a half day of training, since the rest had to be spent getting ready for being on-air that evening. Imelda hadn’t shown up, but she had sent over an assistant with notes for us. Next week’s theme would be ‘theatrical soundtracks,’ and she’d picked a theme from The Maltese Falcon that I didn’t recognize. She’d left a note that she was already working with costuming on our outfits, so not to worry about it.
The element added this week? The pair spin.
We skipped practicing that for now, since it wouldn’t matter if we had to learn it or not if we were voted out. Ty and I took it easy, going through the steps of the new and equally-boring routine that Imelda had picked out for us.
I was starting to wonder if our choreographer was in cahoots with Penelope and if they were determined to make us the most boring team out there.
~~ * ~~
“We have the results from last night’s voting,” Chip said. “May I have the envelope, please?” He paused for dramatic effect as a young child skated out to him with the big red envelope.
My hand clenched Ty’s sweaty one.
So far, the results show hadn’t been nearly as painful. It was only a half-hour long, which meant there was time for a montage recap of the prior night, some commentary from the judges, a singer to trot out and flog their latest single, and then the results. We’d all paraded around the ice one last time in our costumes from the night before, and then we’d lined up in the order of our scores.
“Before we read the results, I’d like to see who our judges think will go home?” He looked to the judging panel.
Oh no. My lip curled. This was going to be like salt in the wound, wasn’t it?
Penelope played with a pen on the judging table, tapping it as she thought. “I considered this for a little while last night, and I feel like the weakest link is Ty and Zara. They should be the ones to go home.”
I made a gagging face, and then remembered that we were on camera. I hoped they hadn’t caught that. The way the audience laughed, though, they had clearly seen my expression. I’d have to remember that for next time.
“And you, Irina? Who do you think should go home?”
“I feel,” she said in her thick accent, “that all of the teams did well. I don’t think I could choose someone to go home at this point. They’ve all worked really hard.”
Clearly Irina was the softball judge. The audience clapped, agreeing with her.
“And Raul?”
He considered for a moment. “I thought Jon Jon and Julia had no chemistry. My vote would be for them.”
That surprised me. I glanced down the line at Jon Jon, but judging from the look on his face, he’d been expecting something like that.
“Time for the results,” Chip said. “Based on the audience votes and combined with the scores from last night…the first team safe is…Emma and Louie Earl!”
