Chapter 5: Weight and Counterweight

By the beginning of week three, Nadia had accepted two facts.

First, Dominic Hartley was annoyingly good at what he did.

Second, Coach Irina was planning something dangerous.

She discovered the second fact on a Monday morning.

"Today we start lifts," Irina announced.

Nadia nearly choked on her water.

"Today?"

"Yes."

"Already?"

"The competition is getting closer."

"It's still months away."

"Fourteen weeks becomes thirteen. Then twelve. Then suddenly you're standing on competition ice wondering where the time went."

Nadia hated when Irina made sense.

"What do you think?" she asked Dominic.

"I think she's right."

"Of course you do."

"She's usually right."

"You two are terrifying together."

Neither disagreed.

Which somehow made it worse.

The first hour was spent entirely off the ice.

Dominic explained positioning.

Balance points.

Weight distribution.

Safety procedures.

"This is starting to sound like physics."

"Because it is physics."

"I became a skater specifically to avoid physics."

"You failed."

She rolled her eyes.

"Again."

"Again," he repeated.

For someone who rarely raised his voice, Dominic somehow managed to sound impossibly stubborn.

Eventually they moved onto the ice.

The first lift wasn't complicated.

At least according to Dominic.

To Nadia it looked complicated enough.

"Relax," he said.

"I am relaxed."

"You're lying."

"Maybe."

Dominic stepped closer.

"Listen to me."

The teasing disappeared from his voice.

Now he sounded serious.

"I won't let you fall."

Something about the certainty in his tone made her pause.

"You sound very confident."

"Because I am."

"That's not reassuring."

"It should be."

Nadia took a deep breath.

"Fine. Let's do it."

The first attempt failed immediately.

The timing was wrong.

"Again," Dominic said.

The second attempt lasted slightly longer.

The third almost worked.

The fourth finally succeeded.

For one brief moment, Nadia left the ice.

Nothing dramatic.

Just enough to feel the strange sensation of trusting another person's strength.

When her skates touched the ice again, she looked surprised.

"See?" Dominic asked.

"That actually worked."

"I told you it would."

"You enjoy being right far too much."

"That's fair."

The next few days followed the same pattern.

Practice.

Correction.

Repeat.

Slowly the lifts improved.

Slowly the partnership improved.

Neither wanted to acknowledge how quickly it was happening.

Especially Nadia.

Because every day she trusted him a little more.

Not intentionally.

Not consciously.

It just happened.

Like learning a rhythm.

Or breathing.

One afternoon they stayed late after training.

Most of the academy had emptied.

Only a handful of skaters remained.

Nadia was reviewing video footage when Dominic appeared beside her.

"You're still working?" he asked.

"You're still here too."

"Fair point."

He sat beside her.

They watched the recording in silence.

"Pause it," Dominic said.

"Why?"

"Right there."

Nadia stopped the video.

"What am I looking at?"

"Trust."

"What?"

"Look at yourself."

She did.

The footage showed the exact moment she left the ice during a lift.

"You stopped preparing to catch yourself."

"That's the goal, isn't it?"

"Yes."

His voice softened slightly.

"Most skaters take months to reach that point."

"Maybe I'm special."

"Maybe."

For a second neither looked away.

Then Nadia quickly focused on the screen again.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

"You know," she said, "people really don't understand you."

Dominic raised an eyebrow.

"That's a random observation."

"It's true."

"How so?"

"Everyone talks about how cold you are."

"I can be."

"You're not, though."

"You barely know me."

"I know enough."

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Dominic looked at her.

Really looked at her.

The way he sometimes did during training.

Like he was paying attention to something important.

"Maybe," he said quietly.

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe you do."

For some reason, Nadia's heartbeat sped up.

Which was ridiculous.

They were talking.

That was all.

"Anyway," she said quickly, "your reputation is terrible."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

"Good."

"Your reputation isn't much better."

"Excuse me?"

"Stubborn. Competitive. Impossible to coach."

"Those are positive qualities."

"Not according to Irina."

"Irina doesn't count."

"She absolutely counts."

They both laughed.

The sound echoed through the nearly empty room.

It felt strangely normal.

Comfortable.

And that was the dangerous part.

Because Nadia was beginning to realize something.

Trust wasn't built during big moments.

It wasn't created by dramatic speeches.

Or heroic gestures.

It grew through small things.

Tiny moments repeated every day.

Shared routines.

Shared effort.

Shared silence.

And somewhere between the first lift and the hundredth correction...

Dominic Hartley had stopped feeling like a stranger.