Playing To Win || paused might be continued soon ||

chapter nine

The air was electric, buzzing with tension and excitement. I stood at the edge of the rink, looking at the ice like it was my battlefield. My heart hammered in my chest, the sharp chill of the arena biting at my exposed skin. This was it. Months of grueling training, painful injuries, and endless hours perfecting every detail—all for this moment.

I glanced up into the stands, trying to locate familiar faces. Sienna and Ava were sitting together, already grinning and waving as they spotted me. A pang of nervous excitement shot through me. They were both proud of me, their medals already gleaming around their necks from earlier performances. But my eyes kept scanning until they landed on the two people I dreaded seeing.

My parents.

They sat near the top of the bleachers, stiff and expressionless. My dad's face was locked in a permanent frown, arms crossed as if my very presence annoyed him. My mom looked just as cold, her lips pursed in that familiar judgmental line. They didn't wave. Didn't smile. They just... stared.

It was as if they were already preparing their critiques, analyzing every step I hadn't even taken yet.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away. This was my moment. I had to block them out, focus on the ice, and give the performance of my life.

The announcer's voice echoed through the arena, calling my name. My pulse quickened, and I skated out to the center of the ice, the bright lights blinding me for a moment. I took a deep breath, positioning myself in the starting pose, and closed my eyes. The music began—soft, haunting notes that would build into something powerful. Just like I planned.

I launched into my routine with precision, each move flowing seamlessly into the next. I hit every jump, every spin, my body moving like it was one with the music. The applause and cheers became a distant hum, replaced by the sharp sound of my skates cutting through the ice. For those few minutes, I was weightless, untouchable, the ice my canvas and my movements the paint.

When I finished my final spin, I struck my last pose, chest heaving, adrenaline surging through me. The crowd erupted into applause, but I barely registered it. I knew it was flawless. Perfect.

As I skated off the ice, I caught the eye of one of the judges, who nodded in approval. I felt a swell of pride. This was my best performance yet. For once, I believed it.

But my pride was short-lived. The moment I stepped out of the rink and back into reality, I saw them—my parents, standing at the edge of the barrier. My stomach tightened, a sense of dread clawing at me as I approached. Their faces were stone, giving nothing away. But I knew what was coming.

"Well," my mother said, her voice cold and clipped. "That was... something."

I blinked, my heart sinking. "Something?"

"You had a slight wobble on your landing after the triple lutz," my dad chimed in, his eyes narrowing. "You need to work on that. It was sloppy."

Sloppy? The word hit me like a slap to the face. "I stuck the landing. It wasn't—"

"Sloppy," he repeated, his voice harder this time. "I don't care what the judges say. You should care about what we think. And that wasn't good enough."

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back the retort burning on my tongue. My chest tightened, the pride I felt moments ago slipping through my fingers like sand. I didn't even bother mentioning that I had scored perfect marks.

My mom's eyes flicked over me, disapproving. "And your posture, Emery. You're supposed to be a graceful figure skater, not a brute out there. You need to remember your form."

Every word felt like a dagger, sharp and pointed. It didn't matter what I achieved out there. It was never enough. They would always find something to criticize.

"I got perfect scores," I finally said, my voice quiet but firm, clinging to that one fact.

"And that means what?" My dad scoffed. "Those scores don't matter if you don't perform to your potential. We didn't spend all this time, all this money, for you to get complacent."

Complacent. The word echoed in my head, suffocating the pride I'd felt just minutes ago.

"Do better," my mother said, her tone final, as if this conversation was over. "That's all we ask. We want you to be the best."

With that, they turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my hands shaking with anger and frustration. I clenched my fists, watching them disappear into the crowd, my chest tight with unshed tears.

I had just performed flawlessly, and yet, it wasn't enough. It was never enough for them.

The ceremony passed in a blur. I stood on the podium with a forced smile, the weight of the gold medal around my neck feeling like both an accomplishment and a burden. Ava and Sienna cheered for me, their excitement genuine, but it was hollow compared to the deafening silence from my parents.

I tried to push the pain away, to focus on the fact that I'd won. But their voices kept ringing in my ears, reminding me of every small misstep, every moment that wasn't perfect.

By the time I left the rink and joined my friends in the locker room, I was drained—physically and emotionally. I barely registered their chatter as they congratulated me, their laughter filling the room like a warm blanket I couldn't feel.

I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to celebrate. All I wanted was to disappear, to drown out the voices in my head telling me I wasn't good enough.

"Em, you okay?" Sienna's voice broke through my thoughts, her face creased with concern as she nudged me.

"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired. It's been a long day."

"Come on, cheer up," Ava said, tossing her arm around my shoulder. "You were amazing out there. We're going to party tonight to celebrate."

Party? The last thing I wanted was to be around more people, pretending everything was fine. But I knew if I refused, they wouldn't let it go.

So, I nodded. "Sure. I'll be there."

Even though my body screamed for rest, and my mind was tangled in knots, I plastered on a smile and told myself it was just for one night. One night to let loose. To forget.

________

By the time we reached the party, the tension in my chest had eased—just a little. The heavy bass thudded through the walls, and the low hum of chatter and laughter buzzed in the air. I could already smell alcohol, and for the first time in weeks, it seemed like an escape.

The house was packed, bodies moving in a rhythm I couldn't quite feel yet. Ava and Sienna immediately dragged me toward the kitchen, where they were already pouring drinks. I hesitated for a second before taking the cup they handed me, deciding to let the alcohol blur the edges of my thoughts.

One drink became two, then three, and before I knew it, my limbs were loose, my mind light. I giggled as Ava and Sienna cracked jokes, feeling the heavy cloud of disappointment start to lift. Everything felt distant, the sharpness of reality dulled by the alcohol.

At some point, a guy with dark, messy hair and a cocky smile caught my eye. He kept glancing at me from across the room, and before I could think too much about it, he was beside me, offering a drink and making small talk.

I couldn't remember much of what he said, but his words blurred into the background as I giggled, sipping from my cup and leaning against the counter. His presence was distracting, a welcome reprieve from the thoughts that still lingered at the back of my mind.

Eventually, he pulled me onto the dance floor, his hands on my hips as we swayed to the music. I let him guide me, not caring, not thinking, just moving. The alcohol buzzed in my veins, and for the first time that night, I felt free—completely untethered.

I didn't even notice when Landon walked in.