Page 99 of Hate You Most

Dakota noticed her instantly, slowing slightly before turning, skating backward for a few seconds as she watched her approach, her expression unreadable.

“You’re late,” Dakota said, though there was no real bite to it. “I left you in the locker room, I didn't think it would take you twenty minutes.”

Viktoriya exhaled softly, gliding closer. “I wasn’t aware you were keeping track.”

“I always keep track,” Dakota replied with a loose smile on her lips.

She had missed this, the normality around being close to her. She didn't have that with anybody else.

Viktoriya stopped a few feet in front of her. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t neutral either—it carried the echo of everything that had happened between them before everything had fallen apart.

Viktoriya looked down briefly, tracing a slow, absent line into the ice with the edge of her blade. “I miss it.”

“Miss what?”

Viktoriya hesitated, her grip tightening slightly as she shifted her weight. “This,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them across the ice. “Being against you again.”

Dakota let out a short breath that might have been a laugh, though it didn’t fully form. “You mean, you miss losing to me?”

Viktoriya glanced up at her, unimpressed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I miss…” she paused. “I miss knowing where I stand.”

That made Dakota stand still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Viktoriya shrugged slightly, though the movement was insufficient for what she was trying to explain. “When I’m on the ice with you, it's simple. You’re there, I’m here. I know what I’m supposed to do. I know what matters.”

Dakota studied her for a moment, something unreadable passing through her expression. “And off the ice?” she asked.

“Off the ice, everything feels—” she shook her head slightly. “Complicated.”

Dakota, pushed off slightly, gliding in a slow circle around Viktoriya before stopping again in front of her, closer this time, the distance between them noticeably smaller.

“You want things to be simple?”

Viktoriya met her gaze. “Yes, maybe. I miss when it was all simple.”

“I don't think things have ever been simple between us,” she said, and Viktoriya knew she was right. She was romanticizing a past that hadn't been kind to either of them.

Dakota looked away then, exhaled quietly as she tightened her ponytail.

“There are local competitions, you know,” she said after a moment. “ Small competitions that mostly get ignored and there's barely any media coverage.”

Viktoriya blinked. “And?”

“And it would be nice if we signed up,” Dakota continued, shrugging one shoulder. “No pressure and no expectations, just… skating, and we could compete against each other again.”

Viktoriya watched her carefully. “Just skating,” she repeated.

“Yeah.”

“No judges that matter.”

“Exactly.”

“No programs that we’re forced into.”