Chapter 3
Did Andrei do this so often that nobody even blinked an eye at it?
How many of his fellow competitors had he seduced this way?
Renji had an OmniSearch alert set for Andrei's name, and in all the gossip that swirled about the man, he'd never heard of anything like this. He really ought to have.
On the other hand, maybe Andrei left his conquests so satisfied that they didn't dare complain.
"Another bite," Andrei whispered.
"Sorry." Renji felt his cheeks flush.
"I have to compete in a few days.
And it's very good, but dairy doesn't always agree with me..."
The smile slid off Andrei's face.
"Oh, damn.
I should be sorry.
I should have asked.
There's a flourless chocolate cake; I can get that instead?"
"Why should you have asked?
You were ordering for yourself."
"I..." Andrei shook his head.
Ah, well.
It's a couple miles back to the hotel.
Want to walk back with me?"
Andrei grinned and tilted his head at the rest of the crowd.
"They'll be taking cabs.
I want you all to myself, if you don't mind."
Renji agreed in a helpless daze.
Andrei was good at seduction.
He probably had a long line of conquests.
His friends were used to him deciding on a different nobody every time.
They were so used to it, they didn't even comment.
And for some unknown reason, Andrei Volynsky had decided that Renji would be next in that line.
Renji should have been offended.
Instead...
He couldn't help thinking that this meant that he could have Andrei's full attention, even for just this evening.
Stupid Andrei.
Renji had been seduced by him years ago.
He hadn't needed tiramisu or dinner or a walk together to make him give in. He'd just needed Andrei.
If Andrei wanted to walk him back to the hotel and whisper sweet nothings in his ear the whole way, Renji planned to let him.
He planned to let him do everything.
Andrei did not whisper sweet nothings.
"You know what I don't understand?" Andrei said, as they walked hand in hand along the boulevard.
"I don't understand why you don't win more."
Renji felt himself flush.
"I do.
It's because I'm not as good as you.
You don't have to flatter me."
"I'm not flattering you," Andrei said impatiently.
"You have the skills to win.
Your artistic interpretation is better than mine, and I'm as arrogant as they come, so if I'm admitting it, it must be true.
You don't get tired easily, and while you can't land a quad twist or a quad arc yet, I've seen you in practice, and you're pretty consistent with the quad point and the spiral.
You should have placed at the Golden Blade final a few months ago."
When had Andrei ever seen him in practice?
Renji blanked out, until he remembered the little segment that had aired a few weeks ago.
It's not like anyone could get a sense of him from that highly edited piece, anyway.
It felt frankly bizarre to know that Andrei must have seen that one video Miyashiman media had made of him practicing, after he'd won the national competition.
Where else Andrei would have seen him, Renji had no idea.
It felt even more bizarre to have someone else echo his most arrogant thoughts, the ones he was afraid to even let himself think.
"Come on," Renji said.
"This is embarrassing.
My total score at the Golden Blade final was a hundred points below yours, you know, and—"
"And it shouldn't have been," Andrei said passionately.
"What was going on?"
"My...
my dog died the night before the competition."
"Oh, no. I'm so sorry.
I would have been devastated."
"I was stressed because of the pressure, and..." He couldn't make himself look at Andrei.
"And on top of all that, I suppose...
I suppose I lack confidence.
Andrei didn't say anything to that.
He just kept hold of Renji's hand as they walked, swinging it gently.
Renji glanced over, to see the other man biting his lip pensively.
"It's not new," Renji said.
"I've always been like this.
No matter how prepared I am physically, I'm mentally weak."
"Mmm." Andrei nodded.
"It's a little surprising to hear you say that.
But it explains a lot.
Is that why your artistic program is...
like that?"
"Like what?"
"Well." Andrei swung their hands as they walked.
"It's safe.
Even your technical program is a little too safe, but I was especially wondering about your artistic program.
Why are your biggest jumps in the first half?"
"Well, my coach thought, since I have difficulty landing in competition—"
"Your coach put your jumps in the first half?" Andrei was beginning to look angry.
He choreographs all my programs."
"That's ridiculous.
You don't have a problem landing jumps. You have a problem being confident.
And when your own coach gives you a program that says that even he does not believe you are capable of landing jumps, that just undermines you yet again.
You know what I would do, if I were choreographing your program?"
"Um.
What?"
"I would give you three quads.
Maybe four.
I'd put them all in the back half of the program, because you can do it.
I'd push up the difficulty level by twenty points—no, don't frown—and when you looked at me like that, I would tell you in no uncertain terms that I believed you could do it.
Because I do."
He wasn't sure what this feeling inside him was.
It was something strange, something he couldn't quite wrap his head around.
"Are you...
just telling me this so that I'll rearrange my program and mess it up?"
"Why would I do that?" Andrei asked.
"First, I like you.
I wouldn't screw you like that.
Second, it makes no sense.
You can't beat me with your program as it is now.
You can't even come close.
You're not competition, not like this.
But you could be."
Renji looked over at Andrei.
In the moonlight, his hair shone like silver.
He had a smile on his face—a mocking, taunting smile.
He was still holding Renji's hand.
"I skate best when I'm challenged," Andrei whispered.
"Challenge me, Renji."
"I..."
"I'm supposed to meet Sergei at nine tomorrow morning for practice," Andrei said.
"I'll tell you what.
Meet me on the ice at seven, and we'll go over your technical program together.
I did tell you I'd make up for not recognizing you as a competitor, didn't I?"
"Fine," Renji said.
I'll meet you."