Pavel vaulted over the top of the seats in the Edmonton airport's lounge to land next to her. "Day-yah!"
"Don't pull your back again," Daya chided automatically, without taking her eyes from the phone screen.
"My back is peachy. It's your face that's the problem."
She bumped his suede-covered shoulder with her fist. "My face? What, do I have acne?"
Pavel pried her fingers from the phone. "Yes, your face. For Juliet, sure, go ahead, lay on the angst. She was thirteen, her boyfriend died, her brother died, her bunny died. Shakespeare himself also died. All very sad."
She threw her palms up in surrender. "So, what's your problem?"
"What's an okay face for Juliet, is a wrong face for the girl who'd just booked her ticket to the Canadian Nationals through the hard work and titanic efforts. Not to mention her dashing partner."
"Oh, stop bragging, or I'll tell Belousova on you."
"Don't deflect. The point is, what works for Juliet, it won't work for Cinderella. You must look at me with eternal joy at the Nationals. Reach out with it to the judges, the audience and the little green Martians."
"And I will."
Pavel hesitated. "Look, I'd rather you acted sad when you're happy than vice versa. You should glow with success, and you're not. What's wrong?"
She darted a glance at her phone. Still nothing. As if she would have missed its buzzing. "My boyfriend walked out at the end of our short, and he didn't call me since, okay? I don't understand what's wrong..."
Pavel squinted. "Wait... that's the lone red-head? Big blue parka, horrid posture?"
She nodded.
"The way he looked at us, I thought we should have splurged on the synchronized swimming lessons in case the ice melts. Are you sure he wasn't at the free?"
"Positive. He mentioned about applying to Uni... maybe he got back to UBC... got sick of the long-distance thing." Her shoulders slumped.
He ground his fist into the palm of his other hand. His accent thickened to comical. "Need me to talk to this cowboy man-to-man? Explain a couple things about treating a girl right?"
She eyed the artistically balled fist and the well-tended skin over the knuckles. "Mike is as much a cowboy as you're Russian mafia."
"Am I? Or do I just pretend to be rotten intelligentsia?" Pavel chuckled, then leaned backwards, snuggling her shoulders, lifting her phone up in the air for a selfie. "Want bait photos? You and I, looking pretty, soft light—your cowboy will run barefoot across the wheat fields of Manitoba for you."
"Don't be silly. But take one for Shanti, she'll love it. Honestly, I suspect it doesn't even have to include me."
"She could ask herself, and nicely. Now, gimme a glam Cinderella smile..." The camera snapped a few times.
"There you go," Pavel tossed the phone back in her lap. "Hashtag it with #BoundForNationals and all that."
She took the phone and scrolled through the snapshots. Did Pavel's smile lost its fake it till you make it vibe since Belousova, true to her promise, had switched from pestering him to honeyed praise? Or was she imagining things?
"Are you happy?" she asked.
"Hell, yes! I'll be even happier if we get on the podium in the Nationals. Hint, hint, nudge, nudge."
Daya nodded. "No matter how much I want to win, you want it more. What are you drinking? Because I need a swig of that."
"Pfft, one man's kool-aid is another's poison." He chewed inside of his lip. They sat in silence watching the airport-speed WiFi upload to IG.
YOU ARE READING
Winners Don't Have Bad Days (Watty 2020 Winner, Romance)
ChickLitWhen a total stranger knows what eats you, maybe they are your one true love. Even if you don't know it yet. || On Friday the 13th, two twenty-something, Daya and Mike, end up in a mutually beneficial arrangement: she is his caregiver after he break...
