Chapter 2: First Contact

The next morning, Nadia arrived at the rink fifteen minutes earlier than usual.

Not because she was eager.

At least that was what she told herself.

The truth was simpler.

She wanted to know exactly what she had gotten herself into.

Dominic Hartley was already on the ice.

Of course he was.

The man apparently existed in a permanent state of preparation.

He was skating slow circles around the rink, focusing entirely on his edges.

No music.

No distractions.

Just precision.

Nadia set her bag down and watched him for a moment.

When she finally stepped onto the ice, Dominic immediately changed direction and skated toward her.

"Morning," he said.

"You always arrive this early?"

"Usually earlier."

"That's disturbing."

"I've heard that before."

Nadia rolled her eyes.

"So where do we start?"

"With the basics."

"I've been skating for twenty years."

"You've been skating singles for twenty years," Dominic corrected. "This is different."

She hated that he was right.

Ice dance wasn't about jumps.

It wasn't about individual brilliance.

It was about connection.

Timing.

Trust.

Three things Nadia had spent most of her career avoiding.

"Show me your edge control," Dominic said.

"Seriously?"

"Humor me."

She pushed off and performed a series of deep outside edges.

Then inside edges.

Then crossovers.

When she finished, Dominic nodded.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Very good, actually."

"That's the nicest thing you've said so far."

"Don't get used to it."

"There he is."

For a brief second, Dominic almost smiled.

Almost.

The expression disappeared before she could be certain she'd seen it.

"Now show me your rhythm."

"My rhythm?"

"Skate beside me."

He pushed forward.

Nadia matched his speed.

At first it felt easy.

Then she noticed something strange.

Every movement he made seemed connected to hers.

Not copying.

Matching.

Like two musicians finding the same beat.

"You're half a count early," Dominic said.

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"How can you even tell?"

"Because you're rushing the transition between edges."

Nadia frowned.

She hated being corrected.

She hated it even more when the correction was accurate.

"Again," Dominic said.

They repeated the exercise.

This time she focused carefully.

Halfway through the lap she felt it.

The difference.

The rhythm suddenly clicked into place.

Their movements aligned.

The glide became smoother.

Cleaner.

Almost effortless.

"There," Dominic said.

"Okay."

"You felt it."

"Maybe."

"You did."

Nadia hated how certain he always sounded.

Unfortunately, she hated even more how often he was right.

For the next hour they worked through simple patterns.

Nothing impressive.

Nothing that would ever appear in competition.

Just foundations.

By the end of the session, Nadia was exhausted.

Not physically.

Mentally.

Learning to synchronize with another person required a level of concentration she wasn't accustomed to.

"How do pairs do this for years?" she asked.

"Practice."

"That's your answer for everything."

"Because it usually works."

"You must be fun at parties."

"I don't go to parties."

"You're joking."

"No."

Nadia stared at him.

"That's somehow worse."

Dominic shrugged.

"I like quiet places."

"You sound eighty years old."

"I'm thirty."

"Same thing."

This time he definitely smiled.

Small.

Brief.

But real.

And unexpectedly attractive.

Nadia immediately ignored that thought.

The session continued.

Later, Dominic introduced their first dance hold.

"This is where most singles skaters get uncomfortable," he said.

"Why?"

"Personal space."

"I'm not worried about personal space."

"We'll see."

He stepped closer.

Far closer than most strangers ever would.

One hand settled lightly against her shoulder blade.

The other found hers.

Everything about the contact was professional.

Necessary.

Technical.

Yet Nadia's entire body instantly became aware of it.

"Relax," Dominic said.

"I am relaxed."

"No, you're not."

"Stop noticing things."

"Impossible."

She exhaled.

"Again."

Together they began moving across the ice.

Slowly.

Carefully.

The first attempt was terrible.

Their timing broke twice.

Their edges separated.

Nadia nearly stepped on his blade.

"That was awful," she declared.

"It wasn't great."

"You almost complimented me again."

"Don't push your luck."

The second attempt was better.

The third was better still.

By the fifth attempt, something changed.

Not perfection.

Not even close.

But a moment.

A brief stretch of ice where their movements aligned completely.

Where the connection felt natural.

Effortless.

Like they'd been practicing together longer than two days.

The feeling vanished almost immediately.

But Nadia noticed it.

So did Dominic.

Neither mentioned it.

Coach Irina did.

"Again," she called from the boards.

"You saw that?" Nadia asked.

"I see everything."

"That's terrifying."

"Good. It should be."

Irina returned to her notes.

Dominic looked toward the coach before turning back to Nadia.

"Again," he said.

"You sound exactly like her."

"I've worked with her for years."

"My condolences."

"Likewise."

For a second, both of them laughed.

The moment surprised Nadia.

Because it felt natural.

Not forced.

Not awkward.

Just easy.

Which was strange.

She had expected Dominic Hartley to be difficult.

Cold.

Impossible to work with.

Instead, she was finding someone intensely focused, occasionally irritating, and unexpectedly easy to trust.

That realization bothered her more than it should have.

Trust was dangerous.

Trust created expectations.

And expectations had a habit of breaking people.

Nadia had learned that lesson years ago.

As if sensing her thoughts, Dominic looked at her.

"You disappeared again."

"What?"

"You've been staring at the ice for thirty seconds."

"Maybe I like the ice."

"Maybe."

His expression suggested he didn't believe her.

"Ready for another run?" he asked.

Nadia looked at the empty rink stretching ahead of them.

Then at their reflection in the glass.

Two skaters.

One unexpected partnership.

Fourteen weeks.

"Ready," she said.

Together they pushed forward.

And for the first time, the idea of this partnership didn't feel impossible.