But none of that escaped my throat. Instead, big, fat tears began to slide down my face. Horrified, I swiped at them with the back of my hand.
He stood up now, wobbling on his skates. “Don’t cry, Zara—”
I shook my head. “The routine’s good enough. I have to go.”
“Zara—”
“Nope,” I said, tears sliding down my face. I pushed away from him. “I don’t want to talk. I just want out of here.”
And I fled the room.
“Zara, wait,” Ty called after me. But he didn’t come after me. He couldn’t—he was stuck in a pair of half-laced skates. Which was fine with me.
I raced out of the building, my bag retrieved from the costume room, and hailed a cab. If the cab driver thought it was weird that a chick was hailing a cab in a poofy dress and a pair of skates? He didn’t say a thing.
This was Hollywood, after all. Weirder shit happened every day.
~~ * ~~
I could have gotten the taxi-cab driver to take me back to the cottage I’d stayed at with Ty. That would have been a free room and dinner…but it also would have meant staying in a private cabin with Ty, and I didn’t want to hear him apologize for hurting my feelings.
I knew that was what he wanted to do. It’s what any decent human being would do. But an apology didn’t matter. Not really.
What would happen if he apologized? Nothing.
What would change if he apologized? Nothing.
What would I do if he apologized to me?
Still nothing. He’d still be Mr. No-Strings-Attached and I’d still be the big, dumb virgin that fell in love with the guy. I hurt just seeing him. It wasn’t our argument that made me so upset. That could have easily been talked out. We could have explained everything away and walked out as buddies.
But I didn’t want to be buddies with him. And that was the part that was punching a hole in my heart. I was desperately in love with the guy.
So I got a hotel room in LA. It wasn’t cheap, and it wasn’t a nice room, but it was Ty-free, and that was the only qualification I had at the moment.
~~ * ~~
Melody sent six frantic text messages to my phone the next day, seeking reassurance that I’d show up for the finale, and that I’d bring my costume and skates with me. I texted her back, saying I would.
Truth be told, I didn’t make the final decision on whether or not I’d show until the last minute. I figured—what would be the worst that could happen if I didn’t show up? They’d threaten to ruin my career? Already handled by me, thanks. Take back their thirty-grand paycheck? At this point, I was ready to give it back if I didn’t have to skate with Ty and have him embrace me and think for even a second that it was the real thing and he really wanted me in his arms.
If I didn’t show up, they’d just cancel our portion of the number and find a way around it. Or Ty would skate alone.
It was the thought of Ty skating alone, looking foolish, that made me climb in a cab and head back to the studio for the final beating on my ego. After all, I loved Ty. I didn’t want to fuck up this last thing for him. Didn’t want to make him look stupid.
I could suck it up and be a big girl for a few hours. I’d smile for the cameras, do my routine with Ty, and then get on the next flight home and drown my sorrows in celery and organic hummus.
I felt a sense of dread as the taxi pulled into the studio. I had my dress tucked under one arm, the skates in the other, and I headed in to meet my doom. I was immediately trapped by the costume people, who were freaking out that I might have wrinkled my dress overnight or stained it. They swept it out of my hands, and then the makeup artist ran forward. “There you are!”
Just as soon as she did, Ty turned a corner. When he spotted me, he stopped in place. “Zara.”
“Can’t talk, Ty,” I said, letting the makeup artist run me off like a chicken. “Gotta get hair and makeup done!”
I barely heard his muttered curse as the door to the makeup room slammed shut behind us, and I was deposited in my chair.
An hour later, my face was made up to the nines, my lips a perfect red bow, my long black hair had been curled into a bouncy, reasonable facsimile of Baby’s hair from the movie, and I was in my costume and skates, waiting to go out onto the ice and trying desperately not to get panicky. My stomach was tied in knots. There was no sign of Ty. Either he was in hair and makeup himself…or he’d had the same thought I had and bailed out.
The show went to a commercial break and a production assistant grabbed me by the elbow. “You’re coming onto the ice over at the right-hand entrance,” she said. “Follow me.”
“We are?” Guess I should have gone to practice. “Okay then.”
Bewildered, I did as she asked, and I sucked in a breath when I saw Ty standing there in his black shirt and tight black pants, skates on and ready to go behind the curtain.
The assistant held her hand out. “One minute before the number starts, and then you guys are the third pair up.”
I knew that. But I nodded and handed her my blade guards. Then I stepped into place next to Ty.
He held his hand out to me as if nothing was wrong, and I took it automatically. Then, his grip tightened on mine. “Good. Now I have you, and we’re going to talk.”
I sighed. “Do we have to? We’re about to go on.”
“I think there was a misunderstanding between us,” he said slowly. His gaze searched mine. “Why did you leave without saying good bye that morning? I thought I did something wrong. That maybe I’d hurt you somehow. Do you know how fucked up that made me? Especially when you wouldn’t come back?”
I would not feel guilty. Would not. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Let’s blame that on the virginity.” Man, being a virgin had turned out to be a huge pain in the ass. At least I was done with it.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wasn’t nice to you when you came back. I…just don’t understand.”
I thought for a minute. “Okay.”
That had clearly not been the answer Ty was expecting. As the music swelled and the first couple took the ice to start their routine, he moved closer to me so we could continue talking. “What do you mean, okay?”
“I mean, okay. Thanks for apologizing.”
“You going to tell me what made you avoid me?”
“I’m not sure that I will. I mean, it doesn’t change anything.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t change anything?” He exploded. “What are you talking about?”
Someone shushed us from nearby.
“Look, can’t we talk about this later?” I held my fist out. “Let’s just do your lucky handshake so we can go out on the ice.”
“No, we can’t talk about this later. We can talk about it now.”
“Lucky handshake first,” I told him, wiggling my fist. “We can’t go out on the ice without it.”
He looked down at my fist and then at me. “You do realize I made that shit up, right?”
I gasped. “You what?”
“I made it up. You were freaking out.”
“Oh my god!” I felt sick to my stomach. He’d lied about his mojo? “I can’t believe you! No wonder we lost!”
He stood up now, wobbling on his skates. “Don’t cry, Zara—”
I shook my head. “The routine’s good enough. I have to go.”
“Zara—”
“Nope,” I said, tears sliding down my face. I pushed away from him. “I don’t want to talk. I just want out of here.”
And I fled the room.
“Zara, wait,” Ty called after me. But he didn’t come after me. He couldn’t—he was stuck in a pair of half-laced skates. Which was fine with me.
I raced out of the building, my bag retrieved from the costume room, and hailed a cab. If the cab driver thought it was weird that a chick was hailing a cab in a poofy dress and a pair of skates? He didn’t say a thing.
This was Hollywood, after all. Weirder shit happened every day.
~~ * ~~
I could have gotten the taxi-cab driver to take me back to the cottage I’d stayed at with Ty. That would have been a free room and dinner…but it also would have meant staying in a private cabin with Ty, and I didn’t want to hear him apologize for hurting my feelings.
I knew that was what he wanted to do. It’s what any decent human being would do. But an apology didn’t matter. Not really.
What would happen if he apologized? Nothing.
What would change if he apologized? Nothing.
What would I do if he apologized to me?
Still nothing. He’d still be Mr. No-Strings-Attached and I’d still be the big, dumb virgin that fell in love with the guy. I hurt just seeing him. It wasn’t our argument that made me so upset. That could have easily been talked out. We could have explained everything away and walked out as buddies.
But I didn’t want to be buddies with him. And that was the part that was punching a hole in my heart. I was desperately in love with the guy.
So I got a hotel room in LA. It wasn’t cheap, and it wasn’t a nice room, but it was Ty-free, and that was the only qualification I had at the moment.
~~ * ~~
Melody sent six frantic text messages to my phone the next day, seeking reassurance that I’d show up for the finale, and that I’d bring my costume and skates with me. I texted her back, saying I would.
Truth be told, I didn’t make the final decision on whether or not I’d show until the last minute. I figured—what would be the worst that could happen if I didn’t show up? They’d threaten to ruin my career? Already handled by me, thanks. Take back their thirty-grand paycheck? At this point, I was ready to give it back if I didn’t have to skate with Ty and have him embrace me and think for even a second that it was the real thing and he really wanted me in his arms.
If I didn’t show up, they’d just cancel our portion of the number and find a way around it. Or Ty would skate alone.
It was the thought of Ty skating alone, looking foolish, that made me climb in a cab and head back to the studio for the final beating on my ego. After all, I loved Ty. I didn’t want to fuck up this last thing for him. Didn’t want to make him look stupid.
I could suck it up and be a big girl for a few hours. I’d smile for the cameras, do my routine with Ty, and then get on the next flight home and drown my sorrows in celery and organic hummus.
I felt a sense of dread as the taxi pulled into the studio. I had my dress tucked under one arm, the skates in the other, and I headed in to meet my doom. I was immediately trapped by the costume people, who were freaking out that I might have wrinkled my dress overnight or stained it. They swept it out of my hands, and then the makeup artist ran forward. “There you are!”
Just as soon as she did, Ty turned a corner. When he spotted me, he stopped in place. “Zara.”
“Can’t talk, Ty,” I said, letting the makeup artist run me off like a chicken. “Gotta get hair and makeup done!”
I barely heard his muttered curse as the door to the makeup room slammed shut behind us, and I was deposited in my chair.
An hour later, my face was made up to the nines, my lips a perfect red bow, my long black hair had been curled into a bouncy, reasonable facsimile of Baby’s hair from the movie, and I was in my costume and skates, waiting to go out onto the ice and trying desperately not to get panicky. My stomach was tied in knots. There was no sign of Ty. Either he was in hair and makeup himself…or he’d had the same thought I had and bailed out.
The show went to a commercial break and a production assistant grabbed me by the elbow. “You’re coming onto the ice over at the right-hand entrance,” she said. “Follow me.”
“We are?” Guess I should have gone to practice. “Okay then.”
Bewildered, I did as she asked, and I sucked in a breath when I saw Ty standing there in his black shirt and tight black pants, skates on and ready to go behind the curtain.
The assistant held her hand out. “One minute before the number starts, and then you guys are the third pair up.”
I knew that. But I nodded and handed her my blade guards. Then I stepped into place next to Ty.
He held his hand out to me as if nothing was wrong, and I took it automatically. Then, his grip tightened on mine. “Good. Now I have you, and we’re going to talk.”
I sighed. “Do we have to? We’re about to go on.”
“I think there was a misunderstanding between us,” he said slowly. His gaze searched mine. “Why did you leave without saying good bye that morning? I thought I did something wrong. That maybe I’d hurt you somehow. Do you know how fucked up that made me? Especially when you wouldn’t come back?”
I would not feel guilty. Would not. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Let’s blame that on the virginity.” Man, being a virgin had turned out to be a huge pain in the ass. At least I was done with it.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wasn’t nice to you when you came back. I…just don’t understand.”
I thought for a minute. “Okay.”
That had clearly not been the answer Ty was expecting. As the music swelled and the first couple took the ice to start their routine, he moved closer to me so we could continue talking. “What do you mean, okay?”
“I mean, okay. Thanks for apologizing.”
“You going to tell me what made you avoid me?”
“I’m not sure that I will. I mean, it doesn’t change anything.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t change anything?” He exploded. “What are you talking about?”
Someone shushed us from nearby.
“Look, can’t we talk about this later?” I held my fist out. “Let’s just do your lucky handshake so we can go out on the ice.”
“No, we can’t talk about this later. We can talk about it now.”
“Lucky handshake first,” I told him, wiggling my fist. “We can’t go out on the ice without it.”
He looked down at my fist and then at me. “You do realize I made that shit up, right?”
I gasped. “You what?”
“I made it up. You were freaking out.”
“Oh my god!” I felt sick to my stomach. He’d lied about his mojo? “I can’t believe you! No wonder we lost!”
