Worth The Wait

𝟑𝟓|𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝐋𝐔𝐂IE 𝐁𝐀𝐒I𝐋𝐋E

I'm not sure what terrifies me more: the possibility of falling/ River dropping me during our lift or the fact that I'm starting to trust River Prescott.

And that trust feels nothing like routine.

"Again," I say, swallowing the shake in my voice as I skate backward into position.

River is already standing at the center of the rink, his palms open, waiting. There's sweat at his hairline, and his breathing is heavier than usual—not from exertion, but from the tension between us that neither of us wants to name.

His eyes meet mine as I draw closer, and something flickers there. Not the usual smugness. Not the cocky glint he wears like armor.

This look is quieter. Raw.

"Lucie," he says, his voice low, barely audible over the hum of the arena lights. "We've been at this for two hours."

"I'm fine."

"You're shaking."

I glance down and realize my hands are trembling slightly. Not from fatigue. From something worse.

From him.

"Let's just get the timing right," I snap, sharper than I mean to be. "We don't have the luxury of a bad run-through this close to the Games."

He watches me for a long second. Then, without another word, he skates into place behind me.

The music cues. We move.

The lift goes up—clean, seamless—and I hold the position longer than usual, desperate to stay in the air, to delay the inevitable crash back to reality. When he lowers me, I feel the strength in his arms. The steadiness. The heat.

I land on the ice too softly.

I should say something. Give a note. Reset. But I don't move. Neither does he.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" River finally asks, his voice rough.

I blink, thrown. "Excuse me?"

He takes a step forward, closing the space between us with that easy, athletic glide. "You act like you hate me. Like I'm still that stupid kid who ruined your shot. But I'm not. And you know that."

I clench my jaw. "I don't—"

"Don't lie to me," he interrupts. "You flinch when I touch you. You look at me like I'm some threat you need to outskate."

I can't breathe.

River exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't hate you, Lucie."

The words hang there. Heavy. Final. They shouldn't matter this much.

But they do.

They crack something in me that I've kept sealed for too long.

Because I've built a wall around him, around us, and that wall doesn't have room for complications. For... this. Whatever this is.

"I know," I whisper, the truth slipping out before I can stop it.

His gaze searches mine. "Then why does it feel like you're always running?"

Because I am.

Because he sees too much. Because when I look at him, I don't see the boy who humiliated me at sixteen. I see the man who watches me when he thinks I'm not looking. The one who knows I fake my smiles. Who lifts me like I'm weightless even when I feel anything but.