Page 106 of Hate You Most

She kept scrolling.

There was another article, with a photo of Dakota and her on the ice together, mid laugh. She couldn't recognize this part of herself that the shaky cameras had caught from the stands. How free she felt, and how that reflected itself in her posture and her smile.

“They’re saying it’s a comeback,” Dakota said, and pulled the duvet higher around herself.

Viktoriya shook her head slightly. “It’s not.”

“No?”

She hesitated.

“No,” she said again. She hadn't done the competition to return to her former glory, or to have another shot at the Olympics—she was too old and she knew she wasn't returning. The competitiveness would rip her apart, she was sure of it. There were new skaters that deserved the same chances she'd gotten, she wouldn't want to take that away from them.

The carefully curated version of herself she'd shown to the world was no longer a part of herself. So why did it bother her so much that these articles had been written and published? One part of her was still in hiding, and still desperate for others' approval.

She turned off her phone and put it back onto the nightstand.

Viktoriya turned to her side and brushed her fingers against the fabric of Dakota's worn t-shirt. She craved the contact even though they had been together for almost the entire day. She couldn't get enough of her.

Dakota was half on her back, half turned toward her. Their legs were tangled loosely together without either of them remembering exactly when that had happened.

“You were so annoying today,” Dakota murmured after a moment.

Viktoriya's gaze drifted lazily over Dakota’s face as she took in details she had once avoided looking at for too long, as if that alone had been dangerous.

“In what way?” she asked, her tone just slightly amused.

Dakota huffed a quiet breath. “You knew you were going to win.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You knew,” Dakota insisted, and turned fully on her side to face her. “You had that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“That one,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “It’s like you know you're three steps ahead of everyone else and somehow at the same time pretending you’re behind.”

Viktoriya didn't have an answer to that. She was aware she could look intense on the ice, and that she had trouble outwardly smiling and showing her emotions, but she didn't know what look Dakota was referring to. Instead of saying anything, she shifted slightly closer, her hand sliding down just enough to rest on Dakota's hip.

Dakota stilled for a fraction of a second at the contact, then relaxed again, her arm moving almost instinctively to rest along Viktoriya’s shoulder. Her wife wasn't pulling her closer but wasn't leaving space between them either.

“You fell,” Viktoriya said after a moment.

Dakota groaned quietly. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“It was not artistic.”

“It could have been.”

“It wasn’t.”

Dakota turned her head slightly, narrowing her eyes. “You’re enjoying this a little too much, I think.”

Viktoriya’s lips curved faintly. “I am not.”

She was about to lean in and press a kiss to Dakota's shoulder, when her phone lit up on the bedside table beside her.

“Another notification,” Dakota said with a smile, and looked over to where her phone was laying.