Status: Still being thought out.
Carvings in the Ice
Working on It
Annabelle's long program needed work. It was going to include some crucial changes- though she'd skated a clean program at Nationals, she'd needed a lot of work to make sure it'd happened that way- almost too much. And as it was, she'd stumbled on a spin and almost lost her balance on a tricky spot of footwork.
However, in typical Jackie Chan-like fashion, she wanted MORE technical difficulty. "Are you sure about this, Anna?" her choreographer, Tanya, asked, her blue eyes reflecting concern. "I honestly don't think adding more to the steps is going to help anything."
"Trust me, it's better like this," Annabelle replied, stretching her quads as she spoke. "My long program didn't have footwork like this. I lost the edges because I wasn't used to the movements. More technical difficulty, more repetition. It'll keep me anticipating it."
Anticipating it? What kind of nonsense was that? Tanya paused, then shrugged, looking at Rick. Rick sighed in resignation. "If that's what you want, Anna, that's what we'll do," he said. "Now let's go."
Afterward, she wished she'd listened.
It'd taken her an hour just to get the first few steps correct. She'd stumbled twice, outright fallen three times, stepped out of sequence at least five, and sworn out loud more times than she could count. She stepped off the ice sore, exhausted and wanting to die- or better yet, go up to Tanya and tell her, "This is not what I wanted, scratch that, let's do something else."
But she was just like her now-gone father- stubborn as hell. Let it all play out.
She walked into the clouded-over light of the Olympic Village slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves. Hard to accomplish with the sudden brush of a hand against your bruised arm.
"O-ow." She lurched away from it and whirled around to face Evan. "Oh, hi."
"Are you okay?" he asked, dropping his stern look. "What happened to your arm?"
"Oh- practice," she said quickly, shrugging and trying not to wince.
"I see. Have fun last night?"
Dread swallowed up the pain inside her. "Look, Evan, I'm sorry, but-"
"But you could have told me about him," he interrupted. "I would've understood."
"No, you wouldn't have. Look, we're not together. I have nothing to explain to you."
"But you know I've got a thing for you!" he insisted, eyes widening. The words fell heavily in the distance between them, and suddenly he looked down, realizing he sounded like a spoiled brat. "I'm sorry. That wasn't right."
"I'll say," Annabelle murmured, wishing for her dorm room and a nice hot bath. Anything to get away from this awkward conversation...
"I just... I just want a chance, that's all," he said to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I know your- BFF or whatever- and I aren't buddies, but that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I don't know what's going on with you and this other guy, but... whatever it is... if it doesn't work out... or..."
His eyes looked so bright and hopeful in that instant that Anna felt she couldn't say no. And why should she? Evan was just like her- ambitious, bright, smart, sweet when he wanted to be. He was a catch for any lucky girl, all gay rumors aside.
Maybe that was the problem, though- maybe he was too much like her. Maybe she needed someone different. Someone more like a partner, and less like a brother, or a carbon copy.
"Ev... we'll talk later. Okay? I promise," she heard herself say, and his eyes flickered. Please, don't get angry, don't say anything, just agree.
"Okay," he said after a long pause. "Fine. I'll text you. Is that all right?"
"Yeah, fine." She started to walk. "Bye..."
"Bye."
Watching him walk away, she wanted to cry. She wasn't a heartbreaker- that wasn't her game in the least- but she couldn't string him along the way she was for long. Maybe she could go on one date. After all, she was fond of him- and she wasn't sure what Jonathan wanted. Maybe this would just be her little fling, something Johnny had always encouraged her to go for.
But then the memory of his lips on her neck came back to her, flooding her with desire, and she realized it- this wasn't going to be very easy to shake off, no matter what they decided.
However, in typical Jackie Chan-like fashion, she wanted MORE technical difficulty. "Are you sure about this, Anna?" her choreographer, Tanya, asked, her blue eyes reflecting concern. "I honestly don't think adding more to the steps is going to help anything."
"Trust me, it's better like this," Annabelle replied, stretching her quads as she spoke. "My long program didn't have footwork like this. I lost the edges because I wasn't used to the movements. More technical difficulty, more repetition. It'll keep me anticipating it."
Anticipating it? What kind of nonsense was that? Tanya paused, then shrugged, looking at Rick. Rick sighed in resignation. "If that's what you want, Anna, that's what we'll do," he said. "Now let's go."
Afterward, she wished she'd listened.
It'd taken her an hour just to get the first few steps correct. She'd stumbled twice, outright fallen three times, stepped out of sequence at least five, and sworn out loud more times than she could count. She stepped off the ice sore, exhausted and wanting to die- or better yet, go up to Tanya and tell her, "This is not what I wanted, scratch that, let's do something else."
But she was just like her now-gone father- stubborn as hell. Let it all play out.
She walked into the clouded-over light of the Olympic Village slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves. Hard to accomplish with the sudden brush of a hand against your bruised arm.
"O-ow." She lurched away from it and whirled around to face Evan. "Oh, hi."
"Are you okay?" he asked, dropping his stern look. "What happened to your arm?"
"Oh- practice," she said quickly, shrugging and trying not to wince.
"I see. Have fun last night?"
Dread swallowed up the pain inside her. "Look, Evan, I'm sorry, but-"
"But you could have told me about him," he interrupted. "I would've understood."
"No, you wouldn't have. Look, we're not together. I have nothing to explain to you."
"But you know I've got a thing for you!" he insisted, eyes widening. The words fell heavily in the distance between them, and suddenly he looked down, realizing he sounded like a spoiled brat. "I'm sorry. That wasn't right."
"I'll say," Annabelle murmured, wishing for her dorm room and a nice hot bath. Anything to get away from this awkward conversation...
"I just... I just want a chance, that's all," he said to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I know your- BFF or whatever- and I aren't buddies, but that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I don't know what's going on with you and this other guy, but... whatever it is... if it doesn't work out... or..."
His eyes looked so bright and hopeful in that instant that Anna felt she couldn't say no. And why should she? Evan was just like her- ambitious, bright, smart, sweet when he wanted to be. He was a catch for any lucky girl, all gay rumors aside.
Maybe that was the problem, though- maybe he was too much like her. Maybe she needed someone different. Someone more like a partner, and less like a brother, or a carbon copy.
"Ev... we'll talk later. Okay? I promise," she heard herself say, and his eyes flickered. Please, don't get angry, don't say anything, just agree.
"Okay," he said after a long pause. "Fine. I'll text you. Is that all right?"
"Yeah, fine." She started to walk. "Bye..."
"Bye."
Watching him walk away, she wanted to cry. She wasn't a heartbreaker- that wasn't her game in the least- but she couldn't string him along the way she was for long. Maybe she could go on one date. After all, she was fond of him- and she wasn't sure what Jonathan wanted. Maybe this would just be her little fling, something Johnny had always encouraged her to go for.
But then the memory of his lips on her neck came back to her, flooding her with desire, and she realized it- this wasn't going to be very easy to shake off, no matter what they decided.