A/N: Thank you to my most wonderful beta MaBarberElla who does so much more than spelling and grammar, also to my lovely friend TailoredDreams who also does some fantastic beta-ing and pre-reading (yes I need two) and still with all that the mistakes you may find are all mine!
Also thank you to SofiaDixon who wrote the most sincere review and gave me some new motivation :)
When I get out to the parking lot, Isabella is sitting on the hood of my car. I try to calm myself from my encounter with Liam, as I know as soon as Isabella hears about it she will freak out.
Apparently my acting doesn't translate as well off the ice because when I get within a few feet of my princess her shoulders drop and she lets out a groan. "Why Edward? Why do you have to antagonize him? You know he will reciprocate and I will end up paying for it."
Wedging myself between her knees and rubbing the outside of her thighs, I lean in resting my forehead against hers. "I'm sorry." I say, closing my eyes and relaxing into her as she wraps her arms around me. "I just can't stand to see you hurt. You have to end this partnership Isabella," I all but growl at her.
"You know why I cannot." She whispers. "Come on Edward, let us leave before Liam comes out and sees us together."
Our house is only a quick two minute drive from the rink and we quickly fall into our regular routine. Always being the gentleman, I unlock the front door and then hold it open for her. She drops her bag on the window bench in the breakfast nook and I place mine beside hers, liking when our belongings touch. I silently move to the dishwasher and open it grabbing two glasses, still warm from the steam dry cycle that has just completed; she has already taken the chocolate milk carton out of the fridge, the one treat we allow ourselves in our strict diet.
Looking out the window I move the first glass toward her on the counter. This daily activity repeated so often it requires minimal attention on either of our parts. When both glasses are filled, Isabella lightly taps her index finger on the counter three times indicating the start of our mini milk chugging race. We finish in less than 10 seconds, as if allowing ourselves to savour the treat any longer than that would send us into a downward spiral of giving into temptation. I win. She lets out a loud burp, her firm composure slipping for a brief moment. I laugh and lightly tap her ass nudging her in the direction of the back staircase.
I follow her as she begins to ascend up the stairs to the second floor. We pass a smattering of framed photos lining the stairwell walls. It's one of the few barriers of Isabella's I've been able to break through. It took over a year before she would allow me to put one of her photos up on the wall. It is ingrained in her to live simplistically and channel every bit of her into figure skating. I continue to appeal for her to embrace balance.
After we each resign to our respective bedrooms to change into sweats, Isabella slides into my room, does a twirl and gracefully face plants on my bed. A sight that is pleasurable and painful at the same time. I love seeing her in my bed. My physical reaction begins to stir, making me grateful that I am wearing forgiving sweatpants. Simultaneously, there is a calming of my mind and soul with the satisfaction that right here in this moment, she is safe and I can protect her.
I follow her lead and face plant almost landing on top of her, at the last minute falling beside her. Immediately my fingers find her sides and I begin to tickle her until she rolls on top of me straddling my hips and bends down to bite my neck. It's a move that ignites a greedy little man in the back of my mind to suggest a different dynamic for our relationship. A possible 'friends with benefits' situation that would provide me with some much needed tension release. I squash this though quickly, berating myself for the split second I place our relationship in jeopardy.
Our positions are soon to place me in a precarious situation so I quickly adjust us into our usual positions. Cradling Isabella between my crossed legs, she leans back and rests her head on my chest. My hand sits on her right hip where I know underneath the waist band of her tights is a small, delicate maple leaf tattoo; a tattoo that matches mine.
"Play it Edward!" She clasps her hands together at her chest and gets a dreamy look on her face, one that appears all too infrequently these days. When our friendship first developed I would catch glimpses of this look every time we would fool around skating together on the ice. The more we skated together, the deeper the bond we formed, the more I saw this look. I then realized it was reserved strictly for me. Even when she is performing I can see the façade she wears on her face. Her vulnerability is on display so rarely, at times I'm sure I've imagined it.
"Again?" I ask grabbing the television remote.
She sighs, "Yes, again."
The DVR list pops up and I consider teasing her by playing some violent, macho, Rambo type movie I have saved, but decide that she's had enough today and give in choosing the six minute clip we watch every day.
The delicate notes of Ravel's Bolero fill our room, as Isabella's idols Jayne Torvill and Christopher perform perfection on ice. She is completely absorbed and as the program grows I can feel excitement grip her body. By the time the last note sounds she has a tear running down her face and a glorious smile stretching ear to ear.
I want to live in this moment with that expression resting on her delicate features. I vow to myself that I will make it happen more frequently. She's lost in her head with images of tortured lovers wrapped in purple chiffon and the notes of a repetitive melody seducing her into a world of deep passion.
Grasping my hands, she twists toward me. "Can we go to your ice?" her eyes plead with me.
She has to know I will give in to her every demand, I always do. Not that she ever demands anything, just gentle pleas that leave my heart aching.
"No, let's nap." I lock my arms around her torso like a cage and pull her until she is tucked into my side and we are both reclining on the bed. Using the remote I flick to the heavy metal station and let the angry sounds pulsate around us.
She giggles. "We cannot sleep listening to this noise."
"We can't?" I give her a squeeze.
She shakes her head no.
"Alright then, you win. Grab your skates."
The drive to my parents place is about thirty minutes. I'm barely out of the car and Isabella already has the barn door open revealing the large ice surface my parents built for me when I got serious about skating.
As Isabella laces up, I jog over to the sound system and press play on the iPod sending the playlist titled "My Bella". By the time I turn to go put on my own skates I hear Isabella's blades cutting the ice as she races around the rink.
I catch up to her by the time the soft piano of Sarah McLachlan's The Answer fill the barn. It is the song that was playing at the Italian restaurant where we first had dinner together. It was supposed to be a group dinner but I told all my friends not to show and gave Liam the wrong address. I thought it would be our first date but instead Isabella made it very clear she wouldn't be dating anyone, but the job of closest confident was up for grabs and I gladly accepted that role and patiently continue to wait for more.
I've had my share of girls, mostly puck bunnies who are waiting around for some hot shot hockey player to notice them and happen to catch my eye as I exit the ice complex. One night stands or weekend tumbles are all I had time for, training being my first priority. After winning the gold and having accomplished my dreams at the ripe age of nineteen, I started to shift some priorities around. I'm still committed to my skating, but cultivating my relationship with Isabella is my focus. I've never encountered someone entirely pure. She is never vengeful or malicious even when she has a right to be. I know I'm a better person for having her in my life. She's sees something in me that I'm not sure exists but I try to live up to that every day.
Our strides match perfectly as we skate across the ice, crossover after crossover. My best memories are here, skating around with Isabella just because it's fun. Not because there is a gold medal, or a country's expectations, or sponsorship deals on the line; just feeling the air rushing by us, one hand on her hip the other hand clasped in hers, skating in circles.
Isabella knows what song is coming next as we have listened to this playlist too many times to count. She guides us to center ice and turns her back to me, indicating that she's ready to do the routine the we have choreographed over the last few months.
It's like breathing; our speed, effortless. This is where I want to be, not pounding the crap out of my hip doing multiple quad attempts daily. If only I could convince her that this…us… skating together could be our ticket to a gold medal, and happiness.
As we hit our ending pose a solo clap echoes across the building. Isabella panics for a second but then realizes that it is just my godfather.
"Jacob!" she cries and skates over to him, embracing him. Jacob Blackov is who introduced me to skating. He retired from coaching before I made my run for Olympic gold, but all my basic skills are perfected thanks to Jacob.
By the time I skate over, Isabella and Jacob are deeply immersed in conversation. They are speaking entirely in Russian so I am only able to pick up bits and pieces. I get the gist of what he is saying, for the hundredth time he's telling Isabella that she and I should be partners, how our souls are meant to be together on ice. I can sense the strings attached to her heart are pulling slightly.
"Okay, enough talk. Let us dance. The Rhumba please." He motions for us to take our positions. "Oh and Edward, please turn this love mix of yours off and play some classical pieces." I am appropriately chastised.
- VT -
We finish up at the barn and decide to go to dinner at Isabella's favorite Vegan restaurant. We had such a great practice session I decide it's safe to approach her for the millionth time about dumping Liam.
"Edward, we have been over this again and again. We can make all the plans you want…I want…after the Sochi Games." She pats my hand, placating me once again.
"No! We can do it now!" I plead with her. I keep talking before she's able to get a word in. "My dad says he almost has everything figured out with the Russian embassy. Jacob has worked all his contacts and you know money isn't an issue for us."
"It is all of that and more; you know this Edward. My grandmother would never leave her homeland, and let us be honest, in her health, she would not be able make the trip, and my mother would never leave her alone."
"But, Bells…." She cups her hand over my mouth not allowing me to continue.
"Whatever connections you think Jacob or your father have, trust me, Liam's father has deeper ones. You do not understand how things are there. It is better if we leave things as they are; it is only two years, and we will be fine." She lightly taps my cheek twice indicating that for her the conversation is over.
Isabella excuses herself to go to the washroom, and I'm left vowing to myself to fix this for her. I will get her away from Liam, I will bring her family to her, and I will give her every dream she is left wanting.