WARNINGS: Drunken sex.
The Aftermath of Heartbreak
Mila arrived at the rink to an unusual sight.
In the center of the ice, her coach was yelling at Georgi Popovich at the top of his lungs, his face so red that Mila half-expected his head to explode. Georgi, however, wasn't listening to the coach at all, staring down at his skates and letting out a heavy sigh whenever Yakov took a moment to catch his breath. From what Mila could tell from Yakov's tirade, the reigning Russian silver medalist had been acting like that for most of practice, which was strange. Of Yakov's top male students, Georgi was usually the most diligent and hard-working – the "teacher's pet" as Yuri often sneered.
Spotting the usual target of their coach's wrath taking a break at the boards, Mila came up behind him and tapped his shoulder. "Hey, what's Georgi's deal today?" she asked. "He looks really down and out of it."
Yuri shrugged, not even glancing up from his phone as he scrolled through his social media accounts. "And that's different from the way he usually acts, how?"
He had a point. Georgi would never be mistaken for Mr. Sunshine, but today he looked downright morose.
"Oh, must be because of this."
He moved so that Mila could see his phone screen over his shoulder. The Instagram app was open, showing Georgi's latest post in which he informed his followers that he had been dumped by his long-time girlfriend, ice dancer Anna Ivanova – Anya – after she confessed to an affair with another man. Yuri tapped the accompanying video, turning up the volume to better hear Georgi's over-the-top monologue about how much he had been in love with Anna and how she had stabbed him in the heart with her infidelity, punctuated by the occasional sob or sniffle.
Yuri burst out laughing, and even Mila let out a few chuckles until she realized how cruel they were being. Sure, the video was beyond cringe-worthy, but underneath the histrionics and melodramatic declarations that he would never believe in love again, it was obvious Georgi was absolutely heartbroken – a feeling she knew well, having broken up with her ex-boyfriend shortly before Worlds last season for similar reasons.
"Ouch, that's rough. No wonder he's so in the dumps today."
"If you ask me, he should have broken up with that woman a long time ago. Maybe if he hadn't let his hormones run his life, he would have beaten Viktor by now," Yuri said, pausing to take a sip from his water bottle. "Not that it matters now, since I'm going to be competing as a senior this season."
"Aw, it's cute how you're so confident," Mila said, poking him in the cheek.
He swatted her hand away. "You doubt me?"
She considered the question. Yuri still skated rather junior-ish, but there was no denying that his jumps were first-rate, and no other senior man had his incredible flexibility, allowing him to perform some of the most difficult, high-level spin positions. Even as a first year senior, it wouldn't be surprising to see him on a few podiums. He could even make the Grand Prix Final. "No, you're right. You're already a better skater than Georgi," she admitted, her eyes wandering back to center ice. "Still, you have to feel sorry for him…"
"Bah. I don't see what the big deal is. It's just a break-up."
"That's because you're still a kid, Mr. Senior. I bet you've never even been kissed before."
Yuri finally looked up from his phone. "I-I've been kissed!"
"Oh?" That was news to her. She rested her elbows against the barrier, propping her chin on her hands. "By whom? Have I met her? Or him? Was it one of Yuri's Angels?"
"Shut up, baba! It's none of your business."
"Baba?" Mila held up her hands, fingers curled into claws. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? It sounds like someone needs another punishment…"
He shook his head as she moved toward him from behind, the look of pure terror in his eyes as he realized what was about to happen. "No, not that…anything but – HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Stop! HAHAHA!"
By that time, Yakov had finally finished lecturing Georgi, turning his attention back to his other students. "Yuri, break time is over!" he barked. "Put the phone away and get back to work. And Mila, have you warmed up yet?"
"I was just about to start, Coach," she said, releasing Yuri from her tickle prison.
The younger boy glared back at her before skating off to perform a textbook perfect triple axel, and Mila rolled her eyes.
"Show-off."
After her last practice of the day, Mila headed to the women's locker room to take a shower before changing into a sexy outfit consisting of leather pants, a sheer sleeveless shirt over a black bra, and strappy silver stiletto heels. A stack of pink-and-silver bangle bracelets completed the look.
A couple of lockers down, one of the junior girls whistled in appreciation of the look. "Hot date tonight?" Irina asked.
"No, girls' night out. We're going clubbing." Bringing a finger to her lips, Mila winked. "Don't tell Coach Yakov, though. He'll have a coronary if he finds out."
Irina laughed. "Sure, your secret is safe with me," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Mila. Try not to party too hard."
"I'll try. No promises, though!"
With Irina's exit, Mila was the last girl left in the locker room. She pulled out her cosmetics bag and stood in front of the mirror above the vanity, humming to herself as she swiped on pale pink lipstick and lined her eyes in smoky black.
She had been looking forward to tonight for weeks, ever since Sofia suggested they check out the new club opening nearby. It would be great to spend some quality time with her friends. Her training kept her so busy that she rarely had time to hang out and act like a normal teenager.
Since she planned to head straight to the club from the rink, Mila put her skates and practice clothes in her locker, making sure it was securely locked before exiting the locker room. On her way out, the faint sound of someone crying caught her attention, stopping her in her tracks.
Mila glanced around, wondering where the sound was coming from. She was certain she was the last to leave the women's locker room, so it wasn't from there.
"The men's locker room?"
She walked over to the door across the hall and pressed her ear against it, the sobs becoming much easier to hear. Must have had a rough practice, she thought with a slight roll of her eyes.
Doubting whoever it was would want her to see him in a moment of weakness, Mila turned around, but couldn't bring herself to leave. She again walked over to the door and knocked.
"Hey, are you okay in there?"
No one answered. In fact, the cries seemed to grow even louder. Mila bit down on her bottom lip. No one would cry that much just because of a bad practice. What if they had seriously hurt themselves and needed help? It would be a while before the current practice session ended; by then, it might be too late. Mila scanned the vicinity, making certain nobody was around to see her – she definitely didn't want any rumors spreading around – before twisting the doorknob in her hand and pushing the door open.
"Hello?" Her voice echoed off the tiles as she stepped inside, her view of the actual lockers blocked by a privacy wall. "Do you need any help?"
The sobs abruptly stopped.
"Who's there? You do realize this is the men's locker room?"
Mila recognized the man's gruff, deep voice. "Georgi?" She popped her head around the corner of the wall, finding Georgi pushing his arms though the sleeves of a flashy silk shirt. His eyes were rimmed in red, his usually neatly-combed hair in disarray. "Sorry, I heard someone crying, and I thought –"
"I'm fine," he said with a sniffle, staring at her. "You're…Ludmila, right?"
Though they were training mates, she and Georgi had never interacted much before. She'd only joined Yakov's group a couple of seasons ago, and they rarely shared practice sessions together. Nationals, Euros, and Worlds were about the only times they spent extended time together. Even then, Georgi was not the most social of skaters, preferring to spend most of his down time at competitions with his (ex) girlfriend, who trained at a different rink.
Mila rolled her eyes at his use of her formal name. She almost preferred Yuri's "baba" to old-fashioned Ludmila. "Mila, please. I was named after my grandmother. Love her; hate her name."
"Okay, Mila." He arched an eyebrow as he buttoned his shirt. "You know, this is still the men's locker room."
Coming further into the room, she shrugged and leaned back against the wall. "You're already dressed, and nobody else is in here. You don't mind, do you?"
"No, not really." Georgi stuffed his dirty practice clothes in his duffel bag before throwing it over his shoulder and shutting his locker with a bang. "I was about to leave anyway. See you around."
"Wait!" she said, surprised when he actually paused. She wasn't even sure why she stopped him or why she was so concerned about him when they weren't even close friends. Hell, they were barely acquaintances. Brushing a curl behind her ear, Mila continued, "Um, I saw your video on Instagram. I'm sorry. What Anna did was… Well, it sucked."
Georgi tightened his grip on his bag, averting his eyes. "Thanks."
"Do you have any plans tonight?"
"You mean, besides crawling into bed, bawling my eyes out, and wishing for the world to end?" he asked, his voice hard and bitter. "No, nothing."
"Then you should go out with me."
The words were out of her mouth before Mila realized what she was asking.
Georgi's eyes widened. "Like a date? Mila, I –"
"Nooooo." She shook her head. That was not what she meant at all! "Oh, no, no, no, no. I'm heading to the opening of that new club down the street. I just thought you might want to come, too. Take your mind off of things?"
"I could use a drink right about now…" he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair, "but I shouldn't. I have practice tomorrow."
"So do I, but that's not stopping me. It's not like the season has really started. We don't even have new programs yet," Mila said, pushing herself off the wall. She hadn't meant to invite him, but since she had, she might as well try to cheer him up. "Come on, it might be fun. Sometimes it's good to cut loose and forget everything that is bothering you for few hours."
"I suppose you do have a point." After a short pause, he sighed. "Oh, what the hell. Coach Yakov is still furious with me anyway." Dropping his bag to his side, he said, "Let me put this in my locker and freshen up, then we can go."
When Mila and Georgi arrived at the club ten minutes later, a long line had already formed in front of the non-descript building. Mila sighed at the sight, not exactly in the mood to play the waiting game when booze, boys, and friends awaited her inside. As she and Georgi headed to the back of the queue, she pulled out her phone. If her friends were further up the line, maybe they could join them and get inside sooner.
Just when she was about to call Polina, however, she received a text message. It was from Evgenia, another one of her friends, informing her they were already inside and asking where she was.
Frowning, Mila typed a reply. Just arrived. Still in line. Will probably be here for eternity. Ugh.
A second later, Evgenia sent back a poop emoji, and Mila let out a soft giggle.
"Something funny?" Georgi asked, speaking to her for the first time since they left the rink.
"Oh, just a text message." She slipped her phone back into her pocket and crossed her arms.
Honestly, what had possessed her to invite Georgi out for drinks anyway? Sure, she felt sorry for him, but they didn't have much in common other than skating and the fact that they had been the victims of cheating partners – and Mila doubted either of them wanted to talk about the second subject.
That only left skating to discuss.
"So, um, have you picked out your music for next season yet?" she asked. Maybe talking would make the wait go by faster.
"For my free, I was thinking 'Tales of a Sleeping Prince', but I haven't made a final decision about the short yet," he said, frowning. "Maybe 'Carabosse' from Sleeping Beauty? I really want something I can interpret well, something personal that conveys my feelings."
Well, current events would certainly give him plenty of inspiration for an evil witch... "Most of the men nowadays are all about quads, quads, quads. It's nice to hear that some still care about the artistic side."
"Well, quads have never been my strong suit. I have the salchow, but I need to rely on my strengths if I want to keep competitive with Viktor, Giacometti, and Leroy. Yuri Plisetsky, too, I guess. He's turning senior this season, right?" He sighed. "Damn, that kid makes me feel old," he muttered, leaning back against the brick exterior of the building.
"Ha, how do you think I feel when he calls me baba?" Mila rolled her eyes. "Eighteen years old, and I'm already an old hag!"
"If you're a hag, then I must be an over-the-hill geezer."
"What would that make Coach Yakov, then?"
Georgi rubbed his chin in thought. "A dinosaur, perhaps?"
Imagining their respected coach as a Tyrannosaurus Rex, complete with thinning hair and a felt hat, Mila erupted into uncontrollable laughter, giggling so hard that it made her stomach hurt. Even Georgi hid a few snickers behind his fist, although he was quick to clear his throat when he caught her grinning at him.
"What about you? Have you decided on your new programs?"
"Oh, well, Coach Yakosaur usually picks my music," she admitted once her laughter died down, twirling one of her curls around her finger.
"You hate the music he picks out, though."
Mila's eyes widened. Had he really paid that much attention to her programs to notice? She knew that unless an official practice was scheduled at the same time, Georgi usually watched the ice dance competition whenever Anna competed, but she never noticed him in the stands at the ladies' events. Then again, she was usually too preoccupied with her own nerves to pay much attention to who was in the audience.
"I don't hate his choices," she said. "I mean, I won the bronze at last season's Worlds with the programs he chose…"
"Are results the only thing that matter to you?" Georgi asked. "You don't care what your programs are as long as you win medals?"
"No, of course not!" Mila had always considered herself more of a performer than an athlete when it came to her skating style, but the main reason she left her previous coach and joined Yakov's group was to work on her technique and consistency on her jumps. "I want to skate programs that people will remember for years, like Alexei Yagudin's 'Winter' and Ashley Wagner's 'Moulin Rouge', but I also really want to win…"
"Those things aren't mutually exclusive, you know. You should suggest some music you actually like to Coach Yakov. The worst he can say is no, right?"
"Maybe." She doubted Yakov would be receptive to any of her ideas, though. He had hated the already choreographed programs she brought with her when she first joined his group, calling them both "absolute rubbish" and insisting that she get brand new ones to the music he chose, even though her first senior Grand Prix event was only a month away.
Conversation between them died after that, Mila pulling her pink gem-encrusted phone back out to play Candy Crush while Georgi resumed his silent brooding.
Ten minutes later, they finally managed to make it inside the club. She immediately started searching for her girlfriends.
"Are you meeting somebody?" Georgi asked.
"Just some friends. Zhenya texted me that they were already here…"
"Oh, I didn't realize –"
Mila barely heard him over the pounding music. "There they are," she said, spotting Evgenia and the others sitting in a corner booth in the back of the room. Grabbing Georgi by the hand, she led him through the crowds to their table. "Come on, I'll introduce you."
"Mila, over here!" Evgenia called out, standing from her seat and waving them over.
"Hey, girls! Sorry I'm late," Mila apologized once they finally reached the booth.
"That's okay. We weren't waiting long," Polina said, giving Georgi the once over. "So, who's Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?"
"Oh, this is one of my training mates, Ge—"
"Georgi Popovich!" Evgenia's brown eyes practically sparkled. "I loved your free program last season. You were a great Rasputin!"
Georgi bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, thanks."
Evgenia and the others were not skaters, having been Mila's best friends since elementary school. They attended her competitions whenever possible, though, and were familiar enough with the skating world through her stories. She'd forgotten that Evgenia had a thing for Georgi.
"Georgi, I'd like you to meet Evgenia. She's a bit of a fan of yours, as you can probably tell," Mila said, continuing with the introductions. "And these two are Polina and Sofia. They're my oldest and dearest friends. We've known each other forever."
He nodded in acknowledgement. "It's nice to meet you."
"Well, don't just stand there. Sit down, sit down!" Evgenia said. Taking a seat herself, she scooted over and patted the leather cushion next to her. "Georgi, you can sit over here by me. Don't worry, I won't bite…unless you want me to."
Mila hid a chuckle behind her hand. Poor Georgi looked mortified, but he accepted the offered seat, leaving her to take the empty spot next to Sofia.
"Wow, this place is packed. I'm surprised you managed to snag a table."
Sofia's blood red lips curved into a mysterious smile. "Oh, I have my ways…"
Mila arched an eyebrow. "Do I even want to know?"
"Probably not," she said before changing the subject. "Anyway, Polya was just telling us about this awful date she had last weekend."
"Last time I ever go out with a guy I met online," Polina said, taking a sip of her cocktail through a straw. "His profile said he was six feet tall, but when I showed up, he barely reached my chin! And that wasn't all he lied about…"
"Oh, no! What did you do?" Mila asked.
"Well, he was still kind of hot, so we went out, but…"
As Mila and her friends continued chatting and catching up with each other's lives, Georgi's eyes glazed over. Though they tried to include him in the conversation whenever possible, she could tell he didn't find their girl talk very interesting. After about fifteen minutes, he excused himself from the group to get a drink from the bar. Mila thought about following him, but she figured he probably wanted some time to himself.
As soon as Georgi was out of earshot, Evgenia pounced, asking the question Mila knew she had been dying to ask since they arrived.
"So, spill. Are you and Georgi, you know, together?"
"No way." Mila waved her hand back-and-forth in front of her face. "It's not like that. He just found out his girlfriend was cheating on him, so I've been trying to cheer him up. Besides, he's way too old for me. He's like, twenty-five? Twenty-seven?" She wasn't certain, but she knew he was close to Viktor's age. They had been competing against each other almost all their lives, Georgi the perennial runner-up to golden boy Viktor.
"I don't know… Older guys tend to have more experience, and nine years isn't that huge of an age difference." Evgenia's eyes followed Georgi to the bar. "And you say he's recently single?"
"Zhenya's right," Sofia said. "I wouldn't kick Viktor Nikiforov out of my bed, that's for sure."
"Christophe Giacometti for me." Polina moaned. "That ass…"
"Uh, you do know Viktor and Chris are into guys, right?" Mila reminded them, not that she could really blame them. When she was younger, she'd had the hugest crush on Viktor herself, absolutely convinced that they would one day fall madly in love and get married until the day she showed up for one of Yakov's summer training camps as a promising novice and caught him kissing his boyfriend at the time outside the rink.
Her first heartbreak – one of many to come.
Polina sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, Mila, don't crush our dreams with…ugh, reality."
"Hey, if Chris wants to join me and Viktor, I'm down with that," Sofia said. "I could just watch…"
"I'll let them know the invitation is open," Mila said, teasing. Although, knowing Christophe's reputation, he would probably be receptive to the idea…
"Mila!" Sofia playfully shoved her. "You're so bad."
Tonight was exactly what she needed.
In the middle of the crowded dance floor, Mila and Sofia danced together, the techno-inspired music pounding in their ears as colorful beams of light streaked across the dimly-lit venue. The fun beat rocked through her entire body, Mila thinking that the song might make a good short program for next season. Georgi was right. She was so tired of the soft, classical princess programs Yakov kept foisting on her that didn't suit her at all, even if they got her good results. Something fun and sassy was more her style.
Thinking of their conversation earlier, Mila realized it had been a while since she had last seen Georgi. He never returned to their table after leaving to get a drink, and that had been at least an hour or so ago. She frowned, stopping to look around at the other dancers.
"Hey, Sonya, have you seen Georgi?"
Still bopping to the music, Sofia pointed to her ear. "What?"
"Do you see Georgi anywhere?" Mila shouted.
"Uh…" She glanced around, rising on her tip-toes to see over the heads of the revelers around them. "Is that him over there? Over at the bar?"
Mila turned in the direction Sofia indicated. A dark-haired man was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of clear liquid she suspected was straight vodka. She couldn't see his face, but she recognized his shirt. Not many men were brave enough to wear such flashy clothes in public.
"Yeah, I think so," she said. "I better go check on him, make sure he's okay."
She wasn't sure if Sofia heard her, but when she looked back, her friend had already found a new dance partner, grinding against a hot blond man with a sleeve of tattoos up his right arm. With a roll of her eyes, Mila walked over to the bar, stumbling a little in her stiletto heels, and hopped on the empty stool beside Georgi.
"Hey, stranger, having fun yet?"
After swiping his hand across his cheek, Georgi side-eyed her, his eyes again rimmed in red. "Does it look like I'm having fun?" he asked, taking a swig of his drink.
"Ah, so you're not one of those happy drunks, huh?" She remembered Yuuri Katsuki's antics at last year's Grand Prix Final banquet – he had been a hilarious drunk!
He sighed. "Not really, no."
"Can I get you anything, miss?" the bartender asked, slinging a towel over his shoulder.
Mila was already pretty tipsy from some tequila shots she had shared with the girls earlier. She knew that unless she wanted to pay for it tomorrow at practice, it would be best to abstain from any more alcohol, but one more drink couldn't hurt…
She pointed to Georgi's half-empty glass. "I'll have whatever he's having."
Georgi cocked his eyebrow. "Are you sure? This stuff is pretty strong."
"I can handle it."
"If you say so…" Turning his attention to the bartender, he said, "You can put it on my tab."
"You don't have –"
"I want to," he said. "As a thank you."
"Oh, okay." Mila put her wallet away. She wasn't one to turn down free booze when it was offered. "I haven't really done anything to be thanked for, though."
"You cared. That's enough in my book."
"I'm sure I'm not the only one who cared," she said, taking a drink from the glass the bartender set down in front of her and making a face. Yep, definitely vodka. "What about your friends?"
"What friends? Anya was my whole life, my reason for living" – he tightened his grip on his glass, his knuckles going white – "until she ripped out my heart and crushed it in her hands."
She began to sympathize a little with Anna. Not that it excused her cheating – nothing did – but it had to be stifling for one's lover to be so obsessed with you. That just wasn't healthy, for either of them. She didn't say anything about it to Georgi, though, knowing he wouldn't be receptive to her advice. He didn't need a lecture at the moment; he needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on.
"How about your fans? They care about you. You must have a lot of messages of support online."
"I'm taking a break from social media at the moment." Frowning, he took a large gulp of his drink, finishing it off. "Some of Anya's fans have not been…understanding."
"They're harassing you? Seriously?"
Mila whipped out her phone and pulled up Georgi's Instagram page to check the latest comments. While most of the replies were kind and sympathetic, with a few tactless but well-meaning offers to heal his broken heart, there were more than a few trolls making fun of his video and accusing him of causing drama just for the sake of it, smearing their precious Anya's name. Some even had the gall to say Georgi was the one to break Anna's heart!
"Why, those little –"
She furiously typed a comment.
HEY! Listen up, you ASSHOLES! Georgi has every right to be upset and angry. HE was the wronged party, not Anna Ivanova. She's the one who cheated. LEAVE GEORGI ALONE!
With a smirk, Mila tapped the button to post. "There!"
"What did you just post?" he asked, Mila holding up her phone so that he could read what she wrote. Georgi groaned, rubbing his temple. "Not that I don't appreciate the support, Mila, but you know they're just going to start attacking you next…"
Mila shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time." She had a tendency to post things online without thinking it through first, attracting controversy from so-called "fans" who expected female skaters to be perfect princesses with never a bad word to say about anyone or anything. Well, sorry if she preferred being a real person with real emotions over a robot in a pretty package. "Anyway, let's take a selfie!"
Georgi held his hand to the side of his face, hiding himself from view of her camera. "No, don't. I don't want Coach Yakov to know I'm out drinking."
"Fine," she said, handing him the phone instead. "Then take a picture of me. I look smokin' hot tonight!"
Chuckling, he held the phone in front of him. "Okay, give me your best 'sexy' face."
Flipping her curls, she posed in a flirtatious fashion as Georgi snapped a few photos. He then gave the phone back, Mila nodding in satisfaction as she swiped through her camera roll. After selecting her favorite of the bunch, she uploaded it on Instagram with the caption "Girls' night out!" She was about to add, "With bonus Georgi!", but respecting his wishes, she only tagged Sofia and the others before posting.
"Thanks."
Georgi signaled the bartender for another drink, reminding Mila that she had barely touched hers. She quickly finished off her glass, the liquor burning her throat, and slammed it back down on the counter.
"Another for me, too!"
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked, reaching for his new drink. "Not that I'm one to talk…"
"Who are you, my father?" she retorted, rolling her eyes. "I'll be fiiiiiine."
"Okay, but that's the last one I'm buying you. In fact, I think I'm going to head home after I finish this one. I didn't mean to crash girls' night with your friends."
"You can't. You haven't even danced with anybody." She surveyed the room. "Why don't you ask her, the blonde?" she suggested, nodding toward a pretty woman in her early-twenties who Mila noticed was none-too-subtly checking Georgi out.
He took a cursory glance at the woman. "Not my type."
"What about her?" She pointed out a brunette who bore a passing resemblance to Anna.
"Definitely not," he said, scoffing.
"How about Zhenya? She'd probably –"
"No."
Mila sighed. He was being way too picky. It was only a dance, not a marriage proposal. Taking a swig of her drink, she shakily stood up and grabbed his arm. "Then dance with me."
"Mila, no, I'm drunk. I'll just make a fool of myself."
"So?" Not taking no for an answer, she tugged on Georgi's arm, pulling him up from the stool. She was determined that he had at least a little bit of fun before he left. "Come on, just one dance. Then you can go home if you want."
"Promise?" he asked, sighing as she nodded. "Okay, one dance, but that is it." After chugging down most of his drink, he settled the tab, then followed Mila out onto the dance floor.
The previous Latin-flavored song ended, switching to a slower-paced romantic number as the dancers split up into couples. She didn't recognize it at first, but as the singer's sultry voice crooned words of love and desire, Mila stopped in her tracks, tears welling in her eyes when a forgotten memory came to mind.
"Mila? You okay?" Georgi asked upon bumping into her. "If you're not feeling well…"
She wiped away a tear that leaked through without her permission and pivoted around, plastering a fake smile on her face. "I'm fine! Totally fine!" she said, her voice an octave higher than usual. "Come on, let's dance."
Placing her hands on his shoulders, they swayed to the beat of the music, but try as she might, Mila couldn't stop her body from trembling as she bit down on her bottom lip and struggled to hold back the sob threatening to break through her defenses.
"Okay, you're obviously not fine," Georgi said, pulling back. "What's wrong? Should I find one of your friends?"
"No, no, it's nothing." She wiped away another traitorous tear, cursing herself for letting something so stupid get to her. Unlike Georgi, she was not the type to cry in public, exposing her emotions for all to see. "It's just this damn song. It reminds me of…him."
It took Georgi a moment to realize who she was talking about, but her break-up had been hot gossip around the rink a few months ago, especially since the "other woman" had been a pairs skater who trained at their rink. "Oh, right, the hockey player. Alexei?"
"Andrei. H-He ch-cheated on me, t-too." A few more tears escaped, running down her cheek and coating her lips in a salty taste. "Damn it, I –"
Wordlessly, Georgi grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the dance floor, leading her to a darken corner mostly hidden from view from everybody else. There, he drew her close, allowing Mila to bury her face in his shoulder when the floodgates finally burst open.
"I really loved him, you know?" she said in between sobs, her fingers gripping the back of his shirt. "And I thought he loved me, too, until…" She shook her head, pushing back the memory of finding the explicit sext messages on Andrei's phone. Even months later, she still remembered exactly what they said, the words forever embedded in her mind like a tattoo. "Why does it still hurt so much? I thought I was over him, but…"
"I know."
Georgi's arms wrapped even tighter around her, his embrace warm and comforting as Mila continued to cry into the fabric of his shirt. He murmured worlds of solace into her hair until her cries died down and she became fully aware of how close they were standing.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry," she said, stepping back and wiping her wet cheeks with the palm of her hands. "I didn't mean – I shouldn't be dumping my crap on you right now." After all, she was the one who was supposed to be consoling him, not the other way around.
"It's fine. I didn't mind."
She shook her head. "I don't know what came over me. I'm usually not like this…"
"Mila, it's okay to cry," he said, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Of course the Human Leaky Faucet would say something like that.
A part of her envied Georgi's ability to be so open with his emotions, though. Mila prided herself on being "real" and "honest", but she rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of others, afraid to ruin her "tough chick" persona. In contrast to Georgi's over-emotional video confessional, her break-up announcement on Instagram had been accompanied by a picture of her flipping Andrei the bird. (Yakov had not been pleased, to say the least, and made her take it down the next day, although not before it had already become a meme in skating circles.) Even Evgenia and the others never really knew how devastated she had been by Andrei's betrayal.
"Anyway, um, I'm fine now, so you can head home if you want," she said, turning away from him and hugging herself. "Sorry for being such a crappy dance partner."
"Are you sure? I can stay a little longer if you want."
That was the last thing she wanted. "No, just go. My friends are still here. I'll be fine."
"Oh, okay." He lightly squeezed her shoulder. "I'll see you around, Mila."
She waited until she was certain Georgi had left before heading back to her friends' table, determined not to let the rest of her fun night out go to waste. Though Polina's and Sofia's spots were empty, Evgenia was still there, holding down the fort.
"Mila, there you are! We were – Oh, my god, are you okay?" Evgenia's eyes widened as she jumped out of her seat, pulling Mila into a hug. "What happened? Did someone try to –"
"No, I'm fine, I'm fine." Maybe if she kept saying that enough times, she would start to believe it. "Where are Polya and Sonya?"
"A couple of guys asked them to dance, but, Mila, are you sure nothing's wrong? You look like you've been crying."
"I'm fine, Zhenya," Mila repeated in a harsher voice than she intended. Sighing, she brought a hand to her forehead, feeling slightly woozy. "Or maybe I'm not. I don't even know anymore. You know, I think I'm just going to head home and call it a night." She wasn't really in the mood to party with her friends after all.
"Oh, okay. I'll just find Sonya and Polya and we'll take you home."
"No, you guys stay. I don't want to ruin the rest of the night."
"But you're drunk. It's not safe for you to walking around on your own."
"I'll be fine." How many times had she said that in the last ten minutes? Mila had lost count. "My apartment is only a couple of blocks away."
"But Mila – Wait!"
Ignoring Evgenia's pleas, Mila headed toward the exit, pushing through the throng of dancers as tears once again blurred her sight. She needed to get out of there. The music, the lights, even her friends… It was too much, suffocating her
The moment she stepped out of the club and into the warm summer night, Mila took in a couple of deep breaths, feeling a little better once she got some fresh air in her lungs. Her phone rang, but she ignored the call, knowing without looking at the Caller ID that it was Evgenia. Instead, she texted her, telling her friend not to worry and promising that she would request an Uber to drive her home – despite the fact Mila thought it was a waste of money when she lived so close and it wasn't even dark due to the famous White Nights of St. Petersburg.
Just when she was about to open her app to find a driver, however, Mila noticed Georgi coming out of a convenience store across the street, plastic bag in hand. She slid her phone back into her pocket and, without thinking, she started following after him, though he was walking in the complete opposite direction of her apartment building.
"Georgi!"
He didn't hear her, continuing to walk ahead without looking back. Mila increased her pace, zigzagging around the other pedestrians between them and wishing she had worn more sensible shoes. She was used to balancing on thin blades of steel on ice, but her skating skills didn't exactly cross over to running in four inch stiletto heels while buzzed on alcohol.
Up ahead, Georgi turned a corner down a side street, and Mila walked even faster, almost sprinting in order not to lose sight of him. Fortunately, the street he turned on was much less crowded. Other than a woman in a short dress leaning against a lamp post, smoking a cigarette, she and Georgi were the only people around.
"Georgi!" Mila called out again when she was only a few feet away. "Wait up!"
That time, he stopped and spun back around, his eyes widening when he saw her. "Mila, what are you do—"
Unable to stop her momentum in time, she stumbled forward and fell rather ungracefully into Georgi's arms. "Are you okay?" he asked, helping her find her balance again. "Where are your friends? I know it's still light out, but it isn't safe –"
Mila grabbed the front of his shirt and crushed her lips against his mouth, cutting his lecture short.
Georgi froze at first, but then he wrapped one arm around her waist, his bag bumping against her hip, and pulled her closer. His other hand cupped the back of her head, fingers brushing against the buzzed hairs of her undercut. The sensation caused a pleasant shiver to travel down her spine.
As the kiss deepened, Mila's lips parting to allow his tongue entrance, she let out a low moan, pressing herself against him. Since Andrei, there had been no one. She had thrown herself into her skating after the break-up – first, preparing for Worlds, then the summer tours in the off-season – giving herself no time to devote to sex and dating. She had missed it, though. Not so much the dating part – she wasn't really ready for a new relationship – but the feel of someone's skin against hers, hands caressing the most intimate spots of her body…
Reaching for Georgi's wrist, she dragged his hand from her neck down to her chest, her heartbeat racing as he lightly squeezed her left breast. Her lips left his, leaving a trail of kisses along his jawline, and he let out a small gasp when she flicked her tongue behind his earlobe.
"Mila, wait." Georgi pulled back, his breathing heavy. "This isn't a good idea."
Somewhere deep in the back of her alcohol-addled brain, Mila knew he was right. They needed to stop before they did something they would come to regret. They were both drunk, and she was so much younger than him, and he had just broken up with Anna… There were so many reasons why it was a bad idea to let things progress any further.
Yet…
"I don't care," she said, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. She'd never noticed just how pretty his eyes were, surrounded by long, thick lashes that would incite rabid jealousy in most women. "Please, Georgi. I don't want to be alone tonight, and I suspect you don't want that either. Am I right?"
Placing her hands on his shoulders, Mila kissed him again, softer and more gentle than before, and after a moment of hesitation, he began kissing her back.
"Where?" he asked, resting his forehead against hers.
"How far are we away from your apartment?"
"It's just up this street."
His place, then. Closer was definitely better.
Mila wanted to die.
She cracked open an eyelid but immediately shut it again upon being greeted by the bright morning sun filtering through the window blinds. Her head felt like it had been split into two and her mouth stuffed with cotton. Practice was going to be absolute hell, if she ever found the strength to actually get out of bed and head to the rink.
At the moment, she was quite content to stay where she was, waiting for Death to take her in his cold embrace.
But that wasn't an option. Yakov didn't consider a hangover to be an acceptable excuse for skipping practice, so she needed to get ready to go.
What time was it anyway? Braving the blinding sunlight once again, Mila slowly opened her eyes, her pounding brain taking a few moments to realize that she was not asleep in her own comfy bed but in a bedroom she did not recognize. It took her only a second longer to become aware that she was nude underneath the black velvet blanket currently wrapped around her.
She mouthed a profanity. What the hell had she done?
Mila tried to recall the events of the previous night, although it was all rather fuzzy. She'd gone clubbing with a few non-skating friends, and for some reason she decided to invite Georgi Popovich along… Oh, right, he had broken up with his cheating girlfriend and she felt sorry for him, knowing how it felt. He bought her a drink – maybe two? – and she asked him to dance, although she ended up crying? That didn't seem like her at all, but she remembered being upset when the DJ played the song she and Andrei had danced to on their first date. That was one of her clearer memories. And after that…
Oh, no. They hadn't…?
Mila rolled over, craning her neck to her left. Her bedmate was still asleep, curled up on his side with his bare back turned toward her, but she didn't have to see his face to know who it was.
Sighing, she threw an arm over her eyes.
They had.
She needed to get out of here. If she was lucky, Georgi wouldn't remember anything had happened between them. Hell, she barely remembered the events of last night apart from some brief, vague flashes. They had definitely kissed and fooled around a little, and at one point, she was pretty sure Georgi had started crying again, but Mila recalled nothing of the actual sex, her memory a complete blank. Maybe Georgi had been too drunk to get it up? Or maybe they had passed out before they were able to go any further?
Well, perhaps it was a blessing that she forgot. It would make it easier to pretend it never happen, which she fully intended to do.
As quietly as possible, Mila slipped from underneath the covers and located her leather pants, peeking out from underneath the bed. After shimmying the pants over her hips, she glanced around the room for her bra. As it was made of black satin, it was difficult to spot in the darkly decorated room, but she finally spotted it hanging off the lampshade next to Georgi.
How did it get all the way over there? she wondered with an exasperated sigh.
Mila tiptoed to the other side of the bed and was about to grab the bra off the shade when the alarm clock on the nightstand started ringing, Covering her ears at the painful sound, she let out a string of colorful profanities as a groaning Georgi propped himself up on his elbow and reached over to turn off the alarm.
"Anya…?" Looking up at her, he blinked a few times to clear the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face when he realized she wasn't his ex-girlfriend. "Mila? What are you doing here, and where is your shirt?"
Mila quickly covered her bare breasts with one arm, her other hand striking Georgi across the cheek. "S-Stop staring at my boobs!"
"Oh, sorry." He looked away, rubbing his cheek. "I didn't mean –"
"No, I –"
Feeling her cheeks burn, Mila reached for her bra and pivoted around to put it on. She hadn't meant to slap him like that, having acted purely on instinct.
When she turned back around, Georgi had lifted up his blanket and was staring down at himself, no doubt asking himself the same questions she had earlier.
"Uh, Mila, did we…?"
"No!"
"But I'm naked, and you're –"
"Listen to me, Georgi Illyich," Mila said, yanking his chin so that he was staring up at her, "nothing happened, and if you tell anybody otherwise…" There was no need to finish her threat, her reputation proceeding her. While the rumors about her beating up Andrei when she caught him cheating were slightly exaggerated, she may have given him a black eye. On accident, of course.
Not that the jerk hadn't deserve it.
Georgi dropped his grip on the blanket and held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I get the picture." Sighing, he ran a hand through his messy hair. "It's not like I want this to get out either. If Anya found out…"
Rolling her eyes, Mila reached down for the sheer shirt at her feet and slipped it on. "Anna is your ex, Georgi. It's none of her business who you sleep with anymore," she reminded him as she buttoned up, catching herself at the last moment. "Not that we slept together last night. I'm just talking hypothetically."
"…right." She was pretty sure he didn't believe her at all.
"Anyway, I should go. I have practice in an hour. See you later."
With a sigh of relief, Mila headed to the living room, stumbling over one of her shoes along the way but unable to find the other. Getting down on her hands and knees, she was searching underneath the couch for the missing heel when she heard Georgi come out of his bedroom.
"Damn it, where is it?" she muttered, banging her head against the coffee table. "Ouch!" That was not going to help her hangover at all.
"Is this what you are looking for?"
She glanced up, rubbing the back of her head. Georgi, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and nothing else, dangled her shoe from his finger.
"Oh, yeah, thanks."
Mila sat down on the couch and put on her shoes as quickly as possible, avoiding looking in Georgi's direction. Curse that alarm clock for waking him up! And damn him for not letting her sneak out like a respectable one night stand. Now there was going to be all this…awkwardness between them, made worse by the fact that she didn't know exactly what they had done.
"Mila, wait," he said, reaching for her arm when she stood back up and turned to leave.
She resisted the urge to groan in frustration. Couldn't he take a hint already? "What is it? I really do need to go."
Georgi inhaled and dropped his hold on her arm, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don't remember much from last night, but I just wanted to say thank you for trying to cheer me up. I appreciate it. I know I can be a little overdramatic and emotional at times…"
"Oh. Um, you, too," she said, looking downwards as another embarrassing memory came back to her. "Thanks, I mean. For letting me cry on your shoulder. I guess I wasn't as over Andrei as I thought I was." She let out a hollow chuckle, pushing her tangled curls out of her face. "What a fine pair we make, huh? Hung up on people who treated us like crap?"
"You deserve a lot better than that asshole, Mila."
"So do you. Anna was a fool."
"I don't know about that," Georgi said with a sigh, causing Mila to look back up in surprise. "Yeah, I hate what Anya did, but she was right about some things," he continued. "I was pretty obsessed with her. I still am, to be honest." He shook his head. "No, Anya was it. My soulmate, my one true love. If I can't have her, then I don't want anybody else."
"So, you'll just spend the rest of your life alone?" she asked, finding the thought incredibly sad.
He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I can win Anya back."
Win her back? Was he out of his freaking mind? "Georgi, she cheated on you! She broke your heart. Why would you even want –"
"Didn't you say you needed to go?" he interrupted, a harshness to his deep voice that Mila had never heard before. He seemed to realize it, too, his face softening as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, I don't want to be the reason you're late for practice..."
His message came through loud and clear, though. He wouldn't tolerate another bad word against Anna.
"Yeah. Um, I guess I'll see you later, then?"
Without waiting for him to say good-bye, Mila exited his apartment and hurried down the stairwell, shocked when she once again felt her eyes watering with tears. What was with her lately? She spent one night in Georgi Popovich's company, and suddenly she was crying at the drop of a hat? She might have laughed if she didn't feel so miserable.
Seriously, she may have slept with him, but it wasn't as if it meant anything – if it even happened at all. They were just two drunk, lonely, horny people who bonded over their respective heartbreaks. Hardly the beginning of a fairy tale romance. Georgi wasn't even her type. Too old. Too moody. Probably not even good in bed. She didn't remember, but he didn't strike her as a wild stallion – more like a loyal dog, eager to please but who slobbered too much.
So why did she care if he wanted to try to reconcile with Anna? If Georgi wanted to forgive and forget, that was his business, no matter how stupid of a decision Mila thought it was. After all, Anna was bound to break his heart again. She was his soulmate? Even if Mila believed in such a ridiculous concept, the idea was laughable.
Anna didn't love him, not the way he loved her. Why couldn't he see that?
Why couldn't he –
As Mila reached the bottom of the stairs, she closed her eyes and sighed, realization hitting her.
Damn it.
She had a thing for Georgi Popovich after all.
DISCLAIMER: Yuri on Ice doesn't belong to me.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hope you enjoyed my first YOI fanfic!