Page 104 of Hate You Most

“Yeah,” Dakota said. “I get that.” Then Dakota nudged her shoulder lightly. “Try not to terrify the children.”

Viktoriya looked at her. “I don’t terrify children.”

Dakota smiled. “Mmh, whatever you say.”

Before Viktoriya could respond, one of the staff members called her fake name from across the corridor.

She adjusted her white dress almost methodically, her body already shifting into her winning mindset. But not in the way it usually did—she wasn't slipping into perfection, she was just going to have fun.

Dakota caught her wrist briefly as she moved past her. “Hey,” she said.

Viktoriya paused and turned back around slightly.

“For what it’s worth,” Dakota said quickly, “this one doesn’t matter. You don't have to win, you just have to have some fun again.”

Viktoriya held her gaze for a second longer than necessary. Then she nodded. “I know.”

Viktoriya took a deep breath and stepped onto the ice. Her fake name rang out through the speakers, and she had been grateful that none of them had been recognized by the audience or staff around them.

The ice beneath her felt the same as it always did.

No matter the rink, no matter the size and no matter who was watching, the moment her blades touched the smooth surface, something in her body and posture shifted. Her body found its balance effortlessly.

The crowd wasn’t silent in that suffocating way she was used to, where every movement was observed with careful attention, every mistake magnified by the absence of sound.

There was noise around her but it was someone laughing somewhere in the stands and the distant echo of conversations that didn’t stop just because she had stepped onto the ice.

It made it easier to breathe. Her presence didn't matter.

Viktoriya took her starting pose in the middle of the rink. A deep breath into her lungs, and the music started. A song that was so entirely her, and she still couldn't believe she was performing to something because she wanted it. The first notes of Pink Pony Club flowed out through the speakers.

And for a split second—she hesitated. Because this was entirely different to what she was used to. There was no expectation attached to this performance beyond what she allowed there to be. No one in the stands was expecting perfection. She could fall and she could make mistakes, and it wouldn’t matter.

She let go completely. Closed her eyes, smiled, and let the song move her.

She didn’t think about anything except the way the ice responded beneath her and the way the music carried her forward. Her mind didn't wander to Dakota's body while in the air, she had no need to.

She landed a triple axel cleanly—and instead of immediately transitioning into the next element with calculated precision, she let the moment stretch just slightly longer, her arms opening wide.

There was a genuine sound from the audience, like they were enjoying it almost as much as she was.

The world blurred at the edges as she spun with a bright smile.

She pushed into her next sequence as the song picked up. Faster now, more confident. She moved to her knees, slid across the ice and fully let the music take her.

The music ended, her lungs gasped for air. She slowed gradually, her blades carving soft lines into the ice as she came to a full stop.

The applause came a second later.

She looked up, almost instinctively, and scanned her surroundings for Dakota.

She found her easily, leaning against the boards with her arms slightly crossed. Dakota raised her eyebrows slightly, stared at her with a smirk on her lips.

Viktoriya exhaled, something close to a laugh slipping out as she pushed herself toward the exit.

When the competition was over and when they were finally home and the applause had faded from her mind, she was going to kiss Dakota until neither of them could breathe. She was going to kiss her until she understood the gratitude that Viktoriya felt at that moment. Dakota had somehow managed to make skating exciting again.

Viktoriya knew they had outskated everyone. The gap between them and the rest of the competitors was simply too obvious to ignore.