This took a while to get out, I was at a German language immersion camp and I couldn't post. To make it up to you guys I'll be posting the next chapter by this Sunday. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review.

Also, I did do ballet and I'd like to think I had a good shot at going through either a pre-professional program or a college dance program but I hurt my knee and ankle. The ballet situation I am portraying is probably more likely to be seen in a ballet school than in a company. I took the liberties because I felt it created more drama. And I love drama!

Made for Each Other

"So you and Geno?" Kris asked again, "I just don't see it," he added exasperated.

"What do you mean?" I asked confused about his statement.

"It's just, I don't know, something about you and him don't mesh. Don't be offended, it's just that something about the fact that you're you and he's him just doesn't blend together in my head."

Before I could respond, Vero called us for lunch, yelling "Time for lunch!" from what I assumed was the kitchen.

We all gathered in Marc and Vero's spacious backyard as we took our seats at the large, wooden, picnic table with a red gingham tablecloth and bowls and platters of food upon the tablecloth. I sat between Kris and Jordan towards the end of the picnic table.

"Now before we all eat, I want to make a toast!" Sidney said, rising from seat, raising his red plastic cup filled with ice tea.

"Toast!" Everyone chorused in return, raising their glasses.

"To the start of a great season and winning the Stanley Cup!" Sidney exclaimed before taking a long drink.

"The start of a great season and winning the Stanley Cup!" We chorused back as we all drank from our cups.

"Let's eat!" Sidney said proudly as he sat back down. I filled my plate with salad and a portion of grilled chicken.

"Where's Geno?" Jordan asked innocently, as he took a bite of his hotdog, which was met with a collective sigh from everyone at the table, including me. "What?" he asked confused.

"He's apparently with this girl named Tits McGee," I said softly.

Jordan merely shook his head as her rubbed his temples and sighed, "Oh Geno, what has she done to you? You could so much better," he murmured more to himself than to anyone else in particular.

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"You should come to our game," Kris suggested casually as he ate.

"Sure that sounds fun, when does the season start? Not till October right?" I made mental calculations, today was September 19, meaning September 21nd we learn our roles for the Showcase, giving us less than a month to learn and perfect our routines. Then after the Showcase, which takes place October 9-11, we learn our roles for The Nutcracker and that gives till December 19 to learn and perfect our parts for the show. The schedule was packed and I would have to be practicing and rehearsing for all day and logging several extra hours in the studio. I honestly wasn't sure if I had to time to see them play.

"Well, technically we start the season in Sweden, playing our first two games against the Senators in the beginning of October, then the actual games in North America start on October 11th," Kris said.

"The 11th? I'm performing on the 11th," I say fraught with disappointment, both from the fact that I won't be able to see them nor will they be able to see me.

"Is that the only day?" Jordan interjected.

"No, thank goodness, I'm also performing on the 9th and 10th."

"Good, I don't know about them but I'll watch you perform on the 9th and 10th, as long as you come and watch me smack the Flyers on the 14th," Jordan said as he pumped his fist in to the air with pride.

I laughed, "Deal, I'll definitely watch you guys play the Flyers, if you guys watch me dance."

"Smack, you are going to watch us 'smack' the Flyers," Jordan corrected teasingly.

"Right, I'm going to watch you smack the Flyers," I said between my laughter.

"And I'm gonna watch you kill at you're dance recital," Jordan said.

"We, we're gonna watch you kill at you're dance recital," Kris corrected jokingly.

"Hey! Look who decided to take time out of their day and come all the way here!" Marc said laughing, as he got up from his seat at the head of the table, to greet the two people approaching us.

It was him. It had to be him, he was wearing a plain pair of khaki shorts and a white, casual button up with sunglasses covering his chocolate eyes. It was Evgeni.
"Ugh, there she is, the ice queen herself, Tits McGee," Kris groaned low enough that only those at the table could hear.

I looked at the woman following closely to Evgeni and she clung to him whenever possible. She was an ice blonde, or at least a dyed blonde, with tanned skin, that looked so tan it was almost orange, and pouty lips, that looked puffy with too much collagen. Her bleach blonde hair fell straight down her back to end just past her breastbone. Her blue eyes, which seemed too blue and too cold to be even real, were slightly obscured by her long bangs that grazed her eyelashes and were parted in the middle. Her orange halter top with a low V-neck, white Capri shorts and she wore high heeled sandals. With a white leather bag hanging off her arm with a Coach logo stamped onto the bag, her overall outfit looked too fancy and revealing to be appropriate for a barbeque and she indeed seemed to be falling over.

"Apparently, they met while Geno was still in Russia in a nightclub. She was still married to this rich businessman, and she got a divorce from her husband to be with Geno. Supposedly, she had to wait 9 months before she could come and they stayed in touch with emails and letters. Geno moved out of Gonch's place into a place of his own, so now she lives with him 'because he's so lonely without me.' That's a load of bull!" Jordan whispered in my ear, explaining the back story. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster, my cheeks flamed to a scarlet, as I thought of Evgeni and her in Russia, I imagined Evgeni writing her letters instead of writing me letters, I felt embarrassed and angry, but most of all I was heartbroken. The one man who I've loved more than anything, the one man who I've given everything, the one man was my everything.

"It's going to be okay," Kris whispered, "Screw her, screw him, we all like you better than her anyways."

"Thanks," I whispered back as I nodded and blinked away the tears I didn't know had formed.

"Geno, Oksana come eat, I don't think you've met Jordan's friend, Svetlana, yet?" Marc said. I lifted my head in response to hearing my name, which I instantly regretted because the instant I looked up, I looked up into his eyes. They were as warm as ever, and still chocolate brown, gone was the innocence of youth but replaced by knowing, a spark of maturity that I did not recognize. His eyes flashed with surprise as he instantly recognized me.

I was determined not be shaken by him, "Hi, I'm Svetlana, Jordan's friend," I said with determination, the determination not to be rattled by him, as I extended my hand towards him.

He shook my hand, his touch sent electricity up my arm, giving me goosebumps, "Evgeni, but everyone calls me Geno, Jordan's teammate," he said through his choppy English. But as our hands touched and our fingers inertwined, I found myself falling for him again, his voice was soft, almost pleading. His smile made me forgot why I was so angry. I may not have been angry but I was still heartbroken.

"I'm Oksana, Oksana Kondakova," the ice blonde interrupted, with her shrill voice, as she extended her hand, "I'm Geno's girlfriend," she said as if she was bragging. I shook her hand noticing how bony her arms were and how thin she was overall despite her large breasts, she looked like Barbie.

The two of them sat in the empty space across from us as they filled their plates, "I though you weren't going to come," Sydney said while glaring daggers at Oksana.

"We weren't, but the season's starting in a few weeks and there won't be a time where we can relax as a team for a long time," Evgeni responded through full mouths of food.

"So, Jordan, you jumped onto the Russian bandwagon, picked yourself up a Russian girlfriend, too," Oksana cooed as she stroked Evgeni's arm. I didn't like that she said "picked up" like I was picked from a catalogue.

I could see Jordan ball his hands into fists underneath the table so hard his knuckles were turning white. With his eyes narrowing at her, I touched his arm trying to calm him down, "It's okay, just correct her, don't make a scene," I whispered.

"Well, you know once you go Russian, you don't go back," Oksana said winking at me, as she laid her head on Evgeni's shoulder. I'm sure she meant it as a compliment but her tone and wink made it seem as if she was implying that I was a slut.

"Actually we're not together," Jordan said as calmly as possible, "We're just friends," almost hissing the last part and if looks could kill, Oksana would have been dead several times over with the glares Jordan and the rest of the team were giving her.

"Oh," Oksana sighed, "That's much too bad, for you I mean, not you, Jordan," Oksana added with a smile as she turned her icy blue eyes my way.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked frigidly with an edge in my voice I didn't know existed.

"Nothing, it's just that Jordan's famous and you're, well, not,"

"Not everyone's a money who-" Vero interrupted before being interrupted herself.

"Well, I'll let you know that Sveta here is a dancer for the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre and she used to dance at this little ballet company in Russia, what was it called?" Jordan asked pretending to think.

"Something with a 'B,'" Kris said as he also pretended to think, "Ah, I know the Bolshoi!"

"Oh right, the Bolshoi, have you heard of it?" Jordan said smugly. The smirk on Jordan's face as Oksana scowled was priceless.

"That's good for you, Svetlana," was all she said through gritted teeth.

"Hey, Svetlana can you help me wash the dishes?" Vero asked politely, clearly sensing the mounting tension.

"Oh sure, anything to help," I respond as I get up from the table, picking up the empty plates.

"See you inside?" Jordan asked.

"Of course," I answered as I followed Vero into the kitchen.

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"You wash, I dry," Vero said quickly as she placed a stack of dirty dished in the sink. I quickly set to work on the dishes.

"So you and Jordan?" Vero asked as she dried the dishes that I had just washed.

"What about Jordan and me?" I asked trying to shrug off the feeling of déjà vu.

"Well, everyone wants to know. Are you two a couple?" she clarified as she stacked the dried dishes in a cabinet.

"No," I respond calmly while my mind was running wild with what Jordan could have said to Vero, "We're just friends. Why did Jordan say we were?"

"No, he said you guys were just friends. Everyone has just been really curious about you guys, we haven't seen Jordan like this with another girl before,"

"Really? He's such a sweet guy," I try to answer nonchalantly.

"He is, it's just he's just such a playboy. He doesn't hold onto a girl long enough to be serious enough that he wants her to meet us."

"Oh," I reply as I try to hide my disappointment, "What do you think Oksana?" I ask trying to change the subject.

"What's not to like?" Vero said dripping with sarcasm, "I mean not only is she totally fake but she's totally a bitch, too. Don't tell me you like her?"

I laughed, "No, not at all,"

"Good, I thought you two might have this Russian thing going,"

"No way, she's way too clingy and abrasive,"

"That's being generous," Vero joked as we both finished up washing and cleaning the dishes. We sat down at the breakfast nook, "You seem like a good girl and I hate to see you get hurt, but Kris told me about you and Geno,"

I sighed as I ran my hands through my hair, "How much did he say?" I was surprisingly not mad at Kris for betraying my secret but was slightly relieved. It was like a weight lifted off my chest, there was one less person to have to hide my feelings for Evgeni from.

"That you two were childhood sweethearts and that when you left for the Bolshoi you guys wrote letters to each other, then a little before he came here he stopped writing to you, which I'm assuming is when he met Oksana. Then you came here to find him and hopefully rekindle your love but you find him the Ice Queen instead."

"So he basically told you everything," I groaned, "I must sound so silly, so naïve."

"No, you sound like you're in love," Vero reassured, "You can still get him back, how can he not love you after you've been together for so long. Besides you're way better than the Wicked Witch of the East."

"Thanks," I smiled.

"No, thank you, it's been so great to actually talk to a girl, you know? We should get together more often. You wanna go to the mall sometime?"

"I'd love to go shopping with you. It's weird, I've been living in a dormitory with girls as roommates for about 4 years, but it's been a while since I've had girl talk."

"Why?" Vero asked puzzled.

"When you're at the professional and the pre-professional level, everyone is so focused on their dance. It's so competitive among the female dancers that we don't really create friendships, it's sad but true," I say reminiscing about my days at the Vaganova and Bolshoi, "This is like the first time I had friends outside of dance. It's nice, it's more balanced and peaceful,"

Vero made a weird face and chuckled, "This is so déjà vu. That is exactly what Jordan said,"

"What the part about not having girl talks?"

"No, the part about having friends outside of dance- for Jordan it was hockey, of course,- and it being more balanced and peaceful. You guys are like made for each other or something," Vero said laughing and eventually I started laughing too.

"Yeah, maybe we are," I agreed.