Page 24 of Hate You Most

Dakota’s expression flickered, just for a second. “So now you want me talking to you?”

Viktoriya hesitated just long enough to annoy herself. “Yeah. Are we good?”

Silence piled between them for a moment, and then Dakota leaned in toward Viktoriya and half whispered in her ear. “I guess they couldn’t afford just one of us.” And it was like no time had passed.

Viktoriya rolled her eyes, but she skated closer anyway. “They need me for contrast,” she said coolly. “Otherwise it's just boring commercial.”

The director clapped his hands. “Alright, ladies. We want intensity but make it fun. Think rivalry, but—” he hesitated, smiling, “—the kind of rivalry that people will want to watch over and over again. This commercial needs to be rewatchable.”

They moved onto the second part—the jumps and spins. They filmed them separately and would edit them together afterward. Dakota’s segment was all power—sharp edges, fast cuts, explosive jumps. Viktoriya’s was about control and precision. Clean lines, deliberate stillness between movements.

Then it was time for the shared shots.

They were placed back-to-back at center ice and were told not to look at each other. Naturally, Dakota couldn't stop herself from looking back at Viktoriya.

“Don’t mess this up,” she murmured under her breath.

Viktoriya smirked. “You are the one messing it up. Stop looking at me.”

They skated toward opposite ends, turned in perfect unison, and charged back toward the center line. They were meant to stop abruptly and stare into each other's eyes.

The cameras caught the moment they slowed. They were close enough that Viktoriya felt the rush of wind as they both came to a stop in front of each other.

“Cut!” the director shouted. “That was great. Again—but you two need to stop closer to each other.”

Closer became inches apart.

Between takes, Dakota laid sprawled on the ice beside her, propped up on one elbow. “Are you having fun yet?”

Viktoriya adjusted her gloves, refusing to look at her. “This is propaganda, yes.”

Dakota laughed. “You say that like you’re not enjoying it.”

The final shot had them standing side by side, breath visible in the cold, staring straight into the camera.

The tagline would be added later. Something about rivals. About fire and ice. About the future of the sport.

When it was over, they sat on the boards together, skates dangling.

“Well,” Dakota said, nudging her lightly with her shoulder, “if they’re going to make money off us, at least they made it entertaining.”

Viktoriya allowed herself a small smile. “You are unbearable.”

Dakota’s grin widened. “I'm surprised you know that word in English.”

She smiled. “I know. It is because you are unbearable to be around.”

CHAPTER SIX

February 26th, 2012.

— Bloomfield Hills training center, Detroit, Michigan.

Viktoriya understood that the Olympics required a certain level of dedication and commitment—but this was insane.

She was training every day from eight to eleven and then again from three to six. Normally that would've been fine, but she was forced to do jumps she'd never tried before.

A triple Axel—it was going to kill her if she didn't land it soon. She was covered in bruises from her toes to the top of her thighs from crashing into the ice. It was not graceful or elegant and it was certainly not going to win her Olympic gold.