Page 77 of The Fall

She laughs against my lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yes, but now I’m your idiot.” I kiss her once more before I add, “Now, start getting ready. I’ll go get you food.”

“Thank you.”

She sits down and starts digging through her suitcase while I throw some clothes on and head out to find her breakfast. I text Max to see if he wants anything, and he responds quickly with a “no thanks.”

I let him know we’ll see him soon at the rink, but he doesn’t respond. I hope that what happened last night doesn’t affect what needs to be done today. Especially since it was his idea to begin with.

It’s impossible to miss the worry on Savannah’s face when Max doesn’t show up on time. She’s called and texted him, and all she got was a vague “coming” response. She watches the door like a hawk as she does her floor warmups.

“He’ll be here,” I assure her. I have to give him the benefit of the doubt that he is, in fact, on his way.

“He better be.”

Max finally runs through the door and jogs over to where she’s warming up. I take a step back because I know Savannah is going to scold him enough for both of us.

“Sorry I’m late,” Max says with a smile. Is he purposely trying to be an ass now because he knows Savannah has been stressing?

“Are you kidding me? What the hell?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips.

“I fell back asleep.”

“You fell back asleep?” she repeats slowly. “You know⁠—”

“I know, Sav,” he cuts her off. “I get it. Won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”

They stare at each other for one heated moment. It’s weird, but it’s almost like they can read each other’s minds because a second later, Max nods and then starts his warmup.

There’s definitely some tension between the two of them leading up to their skate time, but I can’t figure out what to say or even if I should say anything. I decide to let them figure it out themselves. I wish them good luck and discreetly squeeze Savannah’s hand before they skate onto the rink when their names are called.

Thankfully, whatever tension is between them doesn’t show in their performance. They both get out there and do what needs to be done, skating beautifully.

At the end of the two days, they’re standing on the podium as first-place winners for this competition, and I couldn’t be prouder.

TWENTY-SEVEN

SAVANNAH

After our first-place win, I’m feeling optimistic. Not too much because that would be crazy, but I start to feel like maybe we actually do have a shot at the Olympics. Max and I are good skaters. There’s no denying that. We just have to be a little better than everyone else.

The confidence boost I get from Logan when he tells me how amazing I am every time I skate off the ice doesn’t hurt either. If Logan Sokolov, one of the greatest skaters in the world, believes in me, then I should believe in me, too.

Two weeks after our win, it feels like things have gotten back to normal. Max is his usually goofy self, and whatever was going on with him during the competition seems to be over. I tried to talk to him about it when we got home, but he said everything was fine. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I’m not going to keep pushing him unless it starts affecting his skating, which, at the moment, it’s not.

After practice, Logan waits for me by the locker room. I can’t remember the last time we didn’t spend an evening together. All of my spare time goes to him, something I never thought I would allow. I realize that before Logan, I didn’t have anyone I wanted to give my spare time to. Now that I have him, I can’t imagine not spending all my time together.

“Come to dinner tonight? My aunt is making pasta, and my mom has been asking to see you again.”

“Ok.” It’s a no-brainer for me because I want to be where he is.

I haven’t been to his house since we became… more. Not that anything is really different, but I guess I feel a bit more nervous.

Logan holds my hand as we walk into his house. That’s his thing. Little touches here and there. If he can hold my hand, he does. If he can kiss me on my forehead or my hand, he does it. I’ll notice his hand on my lower back occasionally or his heavy palm resting on my thigh while we’re sitting. He always wants to be touching me. As someone who isn’t usually a fan of touching, I’m surprised how much I enjoy it. It’s like a small reminder that he wants to be as close to me as he can.

The house smells delicious when we walk in. Reminds me of when my mom used to cook big family dinners on the off chance that everyone was home. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my mom and dad, and I know I should really make an effort to check in on them more. I think they got so tired of me declining their invites that they stopped asking. I don’t blame them.