Worth The Wait

𝟐𝟐|𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝚮 𝐓𝚮𝚬 𝐖𝚨𝐈𝐓

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐁𝚨𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝚬

The flight back to LA was quieter than I expected, a subtle shift from the chaos of Nationals to the calm before the next storm. River sat next to me, and the hum of the engines seemed to lull the world around us into a peaceful buzz. For a moment, I could almost pretend everything was normal. No Olympics looming, no intense training ahead—just two people who had made it through a competition and were now heading home.

But even as the flight attendants moved through the cabin, offering drinks and snacks, I couldn't shake the weight of what had just happened. Nationals had been a triumph, yes, but I wasn't blind to the cracks that still remained. There was progress—undeniable progress—but it wasn't enough to make me trust River fully. Not yet. I couldn't forget everything that had built up between us over the years.

I glanced at River. He was staring out the window, a small smile on his face as he watched the world below fade into the distance. I knew he was excited, proud even, but there was something in his posture that suggested he wasn't quite as at ease as he appeared.

The plane had barely leveled out when River turned to me, his usual grin playing at the corners of his mouth. I could tell something was coming. The moment the seatbelt sign flickered off and the flight attendants started walking down the aisles, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so no one could overhear.

"You know," he began, eyes glinting with that competitive fire I had come to recognize, "since we're on a roll, I think it's time to raise the stakes."

I raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this was going. "What do you mean, raise the stakes?"

River's grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his voice even quieter. "I bet I can land that tricky spin you've been working on before you make a goal in a hockey game."

I blinked, his challenge catching me off guard. "Are you serious?" I asked, half-laughing. "You've barely been able to keep your skates on straight, River."

His smirk only deepened. "Oh, I'm serious. I'll land that spin before you make your first hockey goal. I think it'll be fun to see you struggle."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You're on," I said without missing a beat. "You're going down."

He raised his hand to mockingly "seal the deal." "Deal," he said. "But let's make it more interesting. If I win, you owe me a dinner at the nicest place in LA. I'm talking five-star, expensive—bring on the fancy stuff."

I gave him a sideways glance. "And if I win?"

River tapped his chin for a moment, as if considering the stakes. "Then... I'll get you a full set of new skates. No more excuses."

I laughed at that, a real laugh, because there was something oddly charming about how he was so sure of himself. But I wasn't about to back down.

"Fine," I said, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms, pretending to look unimpressed. "But don't get cocky when I land the jump first."

River raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm not worried. I've seen how hard you push yourself, but the hockey goal? You're not going to make that as fast as I'll land that spin."

"You're on," I said, unable to hide the smirk that crept onto my face.

He leaned back in his seat with a satisfied look, clearly pleased with himself. "You'll be eating those words, Lucky."

I couldn't help but smile at the nickname. It was almost too familiar at this point. "I don't need luck to beat you," I shot back.

We both settled into our seats as the plane started descending, the hum of the engines filling the silence between us. But even as I sat back, my mind raced—not just about the bet, but about what was ahead. Training. The Olympics. There was no turning back now. The bet was just the beginning of what promised to be a long, intense road ahead. But the playful challenge between us? That was just the motivation I needed to push harder, to give my best—because with River, I couldn't help but feel like I had to.