Page 12 of Break my Heart
Even after everything that happened, it’s one thing that never fails to send satisfaction flooding through me.
After that, I flow into a sit spin, dropping low and holding the position, as the burn in my legs intensifies. From there, I transition into a flying camel, launching into the air and rotating into the spin mid-flight. The rush of the wind against my face is exhilarating, and confidence surges through me as I nail the landing.
The routine builds to its climax, and I push harder, faster before executing a sequence of jumps—an axel, a loop, and finally a salchow. Each one pushes me to my limits. My body is in perfect sync with the rhythm in my mind, each movement precise and deliberate.
For a second, my old coach’s voice creeps into my mind.
“Bend your knees!”
“You’re skating too stiff!”
I crush it before it takes hold, refocusing on the final spin, feeling the stretch, the release as I come to a graceful stop. It’s only when I slow that I realize my chest is heaving. My breath comes out in small clouds before evaporating in the frigid air. Contentment floods through me. In this moment, I feel lighter, like I’ve finally found the missing piece of myself.
That fragile peace is shattered as slow clapping echoes through the rink.
My eyes snap open, and ice floods my veins.
For a terrifying second, I think it’s him.
That he’s found me.
My eyes lock on green ones, and a potent concoction of relief tinged with irritation rushes through me.
Hayes Van Doren loiters near the benches, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he takes a swig of coffee.
Our last run-in flashes through my mind. The flutter at the bottom of my belly is a shock to my system.
I haven’t felt anything like that since?—
I slam the door on that thought and harden my stance.
There’s no way I’m interested in this guy.
Not even a little.
His manwhore reputation is legendary.
He’s exactly the type of guy my dad would lose his mind over if I got anywhere near. Which makes him even more dangerous. Add to that the wreckage of my past, and I’m no longer the girl who can afford a distraction.
When I remain silent, his lips lift into a crooked smile as he raises one hand in a wave before raising the container he’s holding in the other to his mouth and taking a swallow.
I continue to glare, hoping my prickly demeanor will send him scurrying. It’s become a defense mechanism. Even as that thought rolls through my brain, I realize it’s an unlikely scenario.
This guy is much too cocksure of himself.
When he doesn’t take the hint that I’m not interested in striking up a conversation or anything else he might have in mind, I skate toward him, every movement deliberate, eating up the distance between us until I stop in front of him.
That’s when I realize he’s not sipping on his own coffee.
He’s enjoying mine.
Seriously?
My brows snap together.
Who the hell does this guy think he is?
Still breathing hard from my workout, I plant my hands on my hips and scowl.