Jax

  She’s stunning. Absolutely remarkable. Mother was right, she would be an excellent skating partner for me. Yet it doesn’t seem like that’s what she wants. Why else would she act like a beginner skater? Though she seems to adore the ice by the looks of it.

  Milli continues gliding along the ice gracefully, hands behind her head and a smile brightening her face. Why does she have to be so adorable? I shake my head, and push that thought away. Thankfully she hasn’t noticed me yet, but she might anytime now. I slip out the door and return to my room. Skating posters line the walls, a shelf full of trophies and medals, and photos of me holding or wearing each one to the right. I take a look at the photo of when I won my first trophy, I was around six-or-seven years old, with a wide grin on my face. Those were the good old days, before expectations started to suffocate me. That was before I started to despise ice skating. I used to enjoy it, but once my parents put more and more pressure on me to be the perfect son, one of the best figure skaters, the fun dissipated.

  My muscles ache from today's training, it seemed even more brutal than yesterday. I lay down on my bed and scroll through social media. Anything to keep my mind off of today’s events. Most of the news is either about the weather or something to do with politics. I let out a groan. Politics suck.

  I set my phone down on my stomach and place one hand behind my head, the other to the side. My gaze stays trained on a sticker on my ceiling, with an uplifting message and a glow in the dark star. Thoughts run through my mind, all of them are centered around Milli. She’s different from the last girl my parents tried to partner me up with. The last girl looked picture perfect, like an absolute model, blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin. Come to think of it, when she stood next to me, we looked like the ideal couple. Annoyance washes over me as I grimace. Maybe that’s why my parents chose Abigail first, ‘cause they wanted me to have a girlfriend. She wasn’t the best at skating, but not terrible either.

  Milli however is an exemplary skater, her form is exquisite, and her movements are flawless when she actually tries. When she thinks she’s alone. Clearly she’s pretty fed up with living here already. It’s been, what, two days? I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to live here either. Fans, reporters, the press, the public—they all gush over me and tell me how lucky I must be, a famous skater, living in a mansion. Truth is, it’s horrible. My whole childhood has been ripped away from me, I never got the luxury of being able to make mistakes and learn from them, since everyone expects me to be flawless.

  She also seems to be the only one who actually treated me like a real person. I chuckle softly under my breath as the vivid memory of what I did to her for being late to the rink the first time. She was so irritated and deadpan. Mild teasing, less interaction than I would’ve hoped, but at least she didn’t expect much from me. I was able to put a few walls down around her, and she was just fine with it.

  I wake up to my alarm, press the snooze button, and open my eyes. Not even sure when I fell asleep, the last thing I remember was thinking about…Milli. Where is that girl anyways?

  I get out of bed, change into some jeans and a hoodie, before walking out of my room. I walk through a few halls, turn left, down the staircase, then take a right and walk to the very end of the hall. Standing in front of the guest room I knock twice. No answer. I open the door to find the room is empty. She isn’t in there. I walk up to examine the bed. The pillows are slumped over, it appears she rushed when putting the sheets in place. My eyes narrow, and I notice a glint of silver shining from just under the bed. I pick it up to see a silver bracelet with two charms, one is an orange bead, the other is a letter M.

  She must’ve left it by accident. I stuff it into my pocket, and head to the kitchen. One of our chefs is already cooking breakfast for me, three sunny side up eggs, two slices of buttered toast, and four strips of smoked bacon.

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  My mouth starts to salivate at the thought. Most days breakfast consists of oatmeal and a smoothie. My brow immediately furrows, something’s up. Never once I have a more over-the-top meal unless there’s a catch. Which of course there would be.

  “What smells so good?” I ask, playing dumb.

  “Just cooking up your breakfast.” Cameron replies, with a smile.

  “Any sort of reason or occasion? Breakfast is never this fancy.” I respond, innocently. Cameron is my favorite chef, and I never have a cold tone around her, she’s like my second mother, but better.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Your father ordered me to make you something special.” She says, places the flawless eggs onto the plate, shaking a pinch worth of salt and pepper onto each one, before setting the two plates on the table for me.

  I immediately dig into the food, savoring the flavors, the running yolk on the buttered toast with the strips of bacon, is amazing. Probably one of my favorite meals in months, I finish in two minutes flat. “Thank you, Cameron. Compliments to the chef.”

  She chuckles, and takes my empty plates and utensils to the kitchen to clean, running cold water over the plates. “Your welcome, Jax.” Her tone is warm and kind.

  I let out a satisfied sigh, and stood up offering a goodbye before I walked out the front door to go for a walk. Every Monday I’m free until 9am to start my training. Today I went for a walk outside, feeling the cool breeze hit my cheeks. Checking my schedule for the week I noticed a new event that wasn’t there before, a meeting with my coach, and next week I have a competition in Minnesota. That’s two states over. I sigh, and put on my headphones, playing one of my playlists, titled “Free Vibes”. When the first song which plays by chance is one of my favorites, and upbeat, I dance to it.

  My choreography and moves are exact, precise to what I’ve seen from the band themselves. The official choreography I have memorized. This is my happy space. No worries or cares in the world. Just pure vibes. The best vibes. No one would ever catch me dancing, it’s the only thing that wasn’t taken from me, and never will. But that means I can’t do it often.

  As soon as I step back inside the mansion, my parents wait by the door with crossed arms and disappointed glares. “What happened to Milli?” My father’s voice boomed.

  “It was too rough. We couldn’t skate together like partners.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance.

  He raises an eyebrow skeptically, “Are you sure there isn’t any other reason?”

  “None.” I say flatly, shoving my hands in my pockets.

  “Such a shame.” My mother’s voice cuts through the silence.

  “A shame indeed.” My father agrees, glaring at me as if I’m the shame.

  I roll my eyes and scoff. “It wasn’t my fault. It was simply the fact that she and I didn’t click. There wasn’t enough…trust, respect, care, etcetera.”

  My father opens his mouth to retort, but I quickly add. “It’s not the same as you and mom. You two were extraordinary on the ice, and I want a partner that can be the same for me, as mom was for you.” My voice is casual with a tinge of hopefulness, probably good enough of a lie.

  Father sighs, thankfully he drops the topic. “Get to training.” He says rubbing his temples.

  Grateful for the escape, I immediately nod and speed walk off to the rink. I do my regular stretches and warm ups, though my mind is elsewhere.

  Coach Taren has been very rough on me now especially. He says I’m not authentic enough. How am I supposed to be authentic when I always have to live in front of cameras? How am I supposed to be more real when all I do is set up and maintain my persona for the crowd.

  “What do you suggest?” I ask him skeptically, propping one hand on my hip.

  He takes a few moments before responding. “Perhaps you can go to an acting class, it’ll show you what authenticity is versus performance.” My eyes rolled sharply, practically into the back of my head.

  “Yeah right.” I huff out, crossing my arms.

  Coach proceeds to hand me a slip of paper that has an address, and a few instructions on the back. “Just try it out.”