Breaking the Ice

16| The Question

Aiden

The sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow over my room as I sat up in bed. The past few days' events weighed heavily on my mind—the kiss with Andrea, the awkward encounter with her mom, and the lingering tension that had settled between Andrea and me. I ran a hand over my face, still trying to make sense of everything. I knew things were getting complicated, and I had no business letting it happen. But no matter how much I tried to push the kiss out of my thoughts, it stuck with me, lingering like a secret I couldn't shake.

"What am I doing?" I thought, frustration twisting in my chest. "I'm her coach. I can't be... I shouldn't be feeling this."

I needed to focus. This was about the Snowpoint Winter Classic, not about us. But the line between professional and personal was blurring, making it harder and harder to keep the two separate. Every time I tried to remind myself of what mattered—her training, her success—it came back to her, not just as my skater but as someone I genuinely cared for. Someone I couldn't shake.

I got out of bed, splashed cold water on my face, and dressed quickly—pulling on a pair of track pants and a fitted t-shirt that clung to my frame.

"Today," I told myself, "Today, I'll push her harder. She's almost there. No distractions, no lingering emotions. I have to be her coach first and foremost. She deserves nothing less."

But even as I made that promise to myself, I knew it wouldn't be that simple.

Arriving at the rink early helped. The quiet was almost soothing, the ice smooth and untouched, ready for the day. I went through my warm-ups, each movement a grounding reminder of why I was here. I tried to focus on the sound of my blades scraping softly over the ice as I glided around, anything to push away thoughts of Andrea.

When she walked in, my chest tightened, an immediate reaction I couldn't suppress. Andrea wore a soft, heather-gray crewneck sweater tucked neatly into a high-waisted skirt that brushed just above her knees, paired with sleek black leggings that hugged her figure. Her hair was swept back into a ponytail, a few loose strands escaping to frame her face in soft waves. The chill from outside had left her cheeks with a rosy flush, making her look both fresh and effortlessly put together. She carried herself with calm ease, but the second her eyes met mine, an unspoken tension settled between us, heavy and undeniable. I forced myself to keep things light, and professional, pushing down the surge of emotions.

"Morning," I said, leaning against the boards, keeping my tone neutral. "Let's get right to it. We'll focus on that Biellmann spin today. You've been getting close, but we can make it consistent."

Andrea nodded, her gaze focused and determined. "Got it. I want to get it right," she replied, her voice steady. 

She slipped off her jacket, revealing a fitted performance top that hugged her frame, accentuating the strength and grace she carried in each movement. The fabric seemed to mold to her, outlining the lean muscles she'd worked tirelessly to build, and the hours she'd spent pushing herself to become the skater she was today. As she adjusted her sleeves and stretched her arms, her movements were fluid and precise, a dancer's grace merged with an athlete's power. It was almost impossible not to notice the way her determination radiated, even in the way she held herself. I pushed down the distraction, reminding myself why we were here, focusing on her progress, and what she needed from me as her coach.

As she moved through her stretches, I noticed that subtle, familiar tension in her movements—the same tension that had settled between us. She was pushing herself harder today, her focus intense. As she warmed up on the ice, I kept my feedback technical and direct, avoiding any hint of personal connection. She was so close to getting the Biellmann spin right, and she knew it. But there was something about today's practice that made me want to push her even more.