I could sense Theo behind me, which sounded unnecessarily dramatic given that’s where he obviously was since he wasn’t one of the skaters in front.

I didn’t let myself look.

I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I refused to think about Theo and his beautiful, pleading eyes. This was the moment. My moment. My heart thudded as the attendant swung open the gate in the boards.

We surged, and I bent to remove my skate guards—left, then right, as always. I handed them to Manon and stroked across the ice over the Olympic rings, wind brushing my face, the audience chatter and pop music playing over the speakers blending into a buzz of background noise.

After precisely three laps of the rink, I performed an easy double Axel, ducking and weaving with the five other skaters as I did another lap. Theo’s glittering gold shirt was easy to spot from the corner of my eye, but as we passed each other, it didn’t matter who he was. This was go time. Even if he cared enough to understand me, even if he—

He’s no one. He’s not even here. He doesn’t matter.

I launched into a quad toe with the lies filling my mind, much of the home crowd applauding my textbook landing. With a burst of adrenaline, I stroked around the corner and sped backward.

I registered the swell of audience noise just before I turned into my difficult one-foot transition to my triple Axel—

Massimo Musetti faced me in the same moment, a blur of orange as he lunged to the side. My stomach met his hip, and I flew, skates airborne as I sailed over him. My hands smacked the ice, shoulder impacting a moment later.

My cheek slid along the slick surface as momentum spun me before I pushed right to my feet. I was a few steps from Massimo, who blinked up at me, stunned, as I reached down to pull him up.

Through the haze of adrenaline and shock, I nodded to him, both of us apologizing. A hand settled on my lower back, wonderfully familiar and comforting. I caught a whiff of Theo’s faintly vanilla body wash, which I hadn’t realized I’d missed.

His pinched face hovered in my peripheral vision. Theo and Massimo were both speaking, but my ears buzzed loudly. Had I hit my head? I didn’t think so—just the graze on my cheek. I circled my shoulder. Nothing broken. Joint still in place.

“I’m fine.” My voice sounded distant.

Nodding, Massimo skated toward his coaches at the boards. I wasn’t sure which of us was at fault, but it didn’t matter. These collisions happened sometimes.

Theo’s hand was still warm and grounding on my lower back, and I allowed myself another heartbeat of that closeness before skating away even though Theo was talking to me. The warm-up was ticking down. I had to shake this off.

He’s no one. He’s not even here. He doesn’t matter.

Still lies, but I repeated the mantra with each lap of the rink. Making doubly sure the path was clear, I launched into my quad Lutz. The audience thundered with applause now, all eyes apparently on me after the collision. I could do this. My shoulder throbbed, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.