Page 50 of Hate You Most

Dakota set her bag down by the door and glanced back at her, careful, like she was approaching a wounded animal. “You can sit,” she said gently. “Or lie down. Whatever feels better.”

Viktoriya nodded, though she wasn’t sure what position felt best. She slowly lowered herself onto the beige couch. The room tilted if she moved too fast, so she took her time.

Dakota disappeared into another room and for a moment all Viktoriya could really do was enjoy the quiet. There were no beeping machines that drilled noises into her head, and no constant movement around her. In a way, the silence was liberating.

She noticed it then—the absence that filled the room.

The TV was turned off and had a white sheet over it, there was no remote laying on the coffee table. There were no visible phone chargers. Even the walls were bare in a way that seemed like a deliberate choice. There were no photos on the walls around her. Nothing that hinted at memories she couldn’t access.

When Dakota returned with a glass of water, Viktoriya decided to finally speak up. “Did the doctor really say no TV?”

Dakota nodded. “For now. He said that too much stimulation could trigger bad headaches, and confusion.”

“And my phone?”

“Same reason.”

Viktoriya swallowed. The explanation made sense. It was completely reasonable and yet it somehow made her feel like she'd been wrapped in layers of cotton.

She didn’t argue, she didn't even ask about the picture frames. She didn’t have the energy to.

The curtains were drawn and she drifted to sleep on the couch, while Dakota moved around the house, the sound of her footsteps fading in and out. When Viktoriya woke again, the light outside the windows had shifted. The day had slipped away without her noticing.

She slept, she woke up, and she slept again. It wasn't energizing but it did dull the pain at the back of her head. Sometimes Viktoriya would wake with only a slight headache; other times, it was sharp enough that she had to press her palms to the back of her skull and breathe through it.

Dakota clearly noticed, but she wouldn't say a word. A glass of water would appear on the coffee table with her medication and she then would disappear into another room. Dakota never asked her to do more than she could.

Viktoriya woke from another nap and found the air had changed—it smelled good. It took her a moment to place it, blinking slowly as the room came into focus, the edges of everything still slightly blurred. Dakota moved from the kitchen and sat a plate down on the coffee table.

“You okay with pasta?”

Viktoriya stared at the food. “I… yeah. Think so.”

Dakota sat down beside her and watched her take the first bite. “No nausea?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Viktoriya frowned faintly. “How did you know I wanted pasta?”

She smiled. “You don’t do well with heavy food when your head hurts.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t remember that. She didn’t remember saying it, or learning it, or living with that knowledge long enough for someone else to have absorbed it. The realization sent a ripple through her chest.

She twirled the buttered pasta around her fork. Dakota had probably made her dinner a thousand times, this was anything but a big deal. She couldn't remember the thousand times, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened.

Dakota tugged her dark hair behind her ear and silently took her plate into the kitchen when she had finished.

In what remained of Viktoriya's memory, her rival lived mostly in sweatpants and lace bras and loose T-shirts. The woman standing in front of her was wearing dark low cut jeans and a black top. Earrings and rings and silver necklaces. Maybe Viktoriya had simply never seen the side of Dakota that wasn't confined to quick meetings in darkness after competitions. Or maybe, Dakota had wanted to make a good first impression on her. A good second first impression.

“I’ll probably head to bed soon,” Dakota said as she emerged from the kitchen. “I know you've slept quite a bit today, but I think your head would appreciate sleeping in a bed as opposed to the couch.”

Viktoriya admired the way Dakota confidently took up the space around her, the way her hips moved slightly—and then she stopped herself, forcing her eyes away before the thought could settle into something else.

“Okay.”