Page 102 of Hate You Most

“Have you not heard this before?”

“Memory loss, remember?” Viktoriya smiled.

“Shit, yeah—” the girl said. “So, can I skate to it?”

Another pause.

Dakota let out a quiet laugh behind her. “Oh, this is going to be a problem.”

Viktoriya ignored her, stepping back slightly as she looked between them. “I’m not your coach,” she said. “And the competition and what songs you choose does not matter. You need to skate to what feels right.”

Elena shrugged at that. “Okay. But if it’s terrible, it’s your fault. I'll blame you.”

Viktoriya laughed at that. “I’ll accept that.”

Viktoriya watched as Elena loosened her body on the ice, moving as she let herself follow the music instead of forcing it into something rigid.

“This is ridiculous,” Dakota said under her breath. They moved side by side, watching Elena.

“You’re skating to Taylor Swift,” Viktoriya replied, turning slightly as she matched her pace. “You don’t think that's too much?.”

Dakota huffed a quiet laugh. “There weren't any rules right, that was what we all agreed to?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Dakota teased, smiling. “Then stop judging my song choices.”

They moved together without trying to, their paths crossing and separating. There was no competitiveness in Dakota's eyes anymore, the rules that had once defined everything between them had been quietly set aside.

Dakota came to a stop beside her, close enough that their arms brushed lightly against each other, neither of them moving away.

“This was your idea,” Viktoriya said. “It is not terrible.”

Dakota glanced at her.

Viktoriya exhaled softly, her gaze drifting back out over the ice, taking in the movement, the noise, the absence of pressure.

“What are you skating to, then?”

Viktoriya thought about it. She'd always told herself she'd skate to ‘Closer’ by Kings of Leon if she ever found herself in a position to pick her music. She had listened to that very song before stepping onto the ice countless times. She'd listened to that song before winning an Olympic gold medal. But right now—it felt wrong to pick.

No, she was going to skate to the one song she'd found that expressed exactly what she couldn't express herself. A song that pulled at her heart in a way she hadn't experienced with any other song before. It was a local competition after all, there were almost no rules regarding the music.

“Probably ‘Pink Pony Club’ by Chappell Roan,” Viktoriya said and waited for Dakota to interject and tell her she shouldn't. The song carried everything she wasn't allowed to be back home, everything she had almost said and never could, even to her mother, wrapped in something bright and fearless she wasn’t sure she knew how to be yet.

Dakota gave a nod of approval and then moved forward.

“Come on,” she said, not even looking back this time, just assuming Viktoriya would follow.

And she did.

Dakota put the song on, and it blasted through the large overhead speakers and into the entire rink.

At first, Viktoriya tried to fit it into something familiar, her body instinctively searching for structure, for the clean lines and controlled transitions she had always relied on—but the music didn’t allow for it.

So she stopped trying.

The shift was subtle at first, then more noticeable as she let herself respond to the music. Her movements softened as she followed the rhythm.