The Cutting Edge

Word Count: 1952

The Cutting Edge


Sochi, Russia
February 2014


The rink was open for practice early this morning, and Alyssa was going to take the opportunity to work on her short program. After all, the ladies event was toward the end of the Olympics and she wanted to maintain the fluidity of her movements.

The Sochi Iceberg Skating Palace was huge – a skater’s dream venue. Even the outside was beautiful – a big, blue flowing wave that never seemed to end. She flashed her badge at security and walked in, holding her skates over her shoulder. The guard smiled at her.

Alyssa had to admit all the Russians she’d met were helpful and friendly, though most didn’t speak English. She didn’t mind. After all, it was their country. She had picked up some conversational Russian but was nowhere near fluent.

Alyssa ambled into the women’s locker room and changed into a pair of athletic leggings and a sleeveless white top. Two other skaters were in the locker room, a girl from Japan and a girl from Canada. She knew them from competitions, but they didn’t socialize.

She set her hair in a ponytail and walked up to the bench area next to the rink. As she slid on her skates, she noticed a guy two benches over, tightening his own skates. The men’s short program started tomorrow, and she thought there would be more men, but he was the only one here at the rink this early in the morning.

Her gaze lingered. He was tall and masculine. He also wore a sleeveless shirt, showing off his muscled physique. He stood and flexed his back. Alyssa’s breath hitched. She’d never seen a guy…so ripped, so chiseled, so…male. He moved with easy grace. His hair was curly brown and his facial features were angular yet defined. Alyssa couldn’t look away. His eyes were his most striking feature, cobalt blue, clear - brilliant.

After he grinned at her, he turned his attention onto the ice, effortlessly skating away.

Who was he?

No matter. She tried to shake off her lingering thoughts and finished tying her skates. She put a set of headphones into her ears. The cord connected to a small MP3 player she attached to her arm using an armband. Alyssa had selected “Ave Maria” for her short program, traditional, yet always stirring. She skated onto the ice. The air now was cold, yet invigorating. She did a couple of laps to warm up before beginning her routine.

He was already in the middle of the rink, working on his jumps. The other female skaters come onto the ice and skated several laps.

Alyssa began her routine. Forward, backward, triple toe-loop, footwork, triple salchow.

She looked up.

He was watching her.

She smiled.

He smiled back.

Her heart nearly stopped -- and it was pumping fast.

He motioned for her to continue, so she did.

Alyssa went into a camel spin. He skated beside her and did the same.

Focus, girl, focus.

She exited the spin and skated into a triple loop. He did a triple loop, smiling that drop dead gorgeous smile the entire time. Was he teasing her?

Triple loop, triple salchow. He did the same.

She skated to stop right in front of him, shutting off her music, compelled to assess him.

He stopped as well and placed his hands on his muscled hips, breathless.

They stared at each other for a minute, studying each other. He held out his hand. She slowly raised her own, unsure if she should, yet his expression was strong and confident – and kind. Yes, he was confident in himself.

She placed her hand in his.

He squeezed. Her breath hitched.

“Follow me,” he mouthed.

She nodded. He dropped his hand and skated off, beginning his routine.

Toe loop jump, footwork, a double axel, a lutz. He was fast. She increased her pace to keep up with him. He nodded at her.

She followed his lead – another double axel – off the mark, she fell. He skated right over and knelt next to her. His eyes full of concern.

“I’m okay,” she said. Nothing hurt, but her pride.

He stood and held out his hand. She took it again, more readily now, and he pulled her up with effortless grace.

He leaned close. “Thank you for following me.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

He grinned. “Yuri.”

“Alyssa.”

“It is nice to meet you.” His accent was pronounced and heavy. His words were slow and deliberate, yet sensual. She pursed her lips. His eyes twinkled then he skated off.

“Don’t—"

She began to pursue him, but the other athletes on the ice skated between them and stopped her from going after him.

Frustrated, she stood there, her hands on her hips, staring after him. Who was he? Russian? Ukrainian? Did it matter? His skating was flawless, and he was magnificent. She wanted to see him again.

*****

Yuri had no idea what had compelled him to do that. He’d never seen her before, yet there was something about her – the way she moved, with elegant grace that enthralled him. She was slender, yet toned, muscular, and extremely feminine in her mannerisms and physicality. Alyssa’s bright green eyes blazed like emeralds.

He hated to see her fall. Who was she? Canadian? American?

Forbidden.

Not really, and while the Cold War was over, Russia did not trust the West. Did it matter? She took his hand, hesitantly at first, and with more certainty the second time, trusting him. He wanted to see her again. Yuri untied his skates, determined to find out precisely who she was. He made his way to Olympic village only stopping for a coffee and a pastry as the shops opened. The sun peeked out from the clouds. Back in his room, he started an Internet search.

He found a picture that matched - Alyssa Saunders. American figure skater. Reigning USA Women’s National Champion. Yuri reached for a nearby pen and paper and took his time penning his invitation. His English was passable as he spent half the year in upstate New York working with his coach. No doubt his English was better than her Russian, but if she was willing to learn, he would be honored to teach her.

******

Alyssa stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from her morning shower. Her mind still lingered on Yuri.

She walked over to her laptop and booted it up. Glancing over she discovered a note that had been slid under her door. Her name was written in a shaky hand, as if the writer knew the letters but didn’t write them everyday. She tore open the envelope.

Alyssa, I want to invite you to watch my short program. Please show this to my coach. Yuri Guskov.

She went to the computer and typed in his name. Yuri Guskov was the reigning Russian Federation Men’s Champion. She whistled. Alyssa hadn’t expected that.

Alyssa glanced from his picture to the note. This was no casual invitation. He wanted her to sit with his coach in the observation box next to the judges during his routine.

He respects me.

There was a knock on the door. She opened it.

“Good morning, Aly. I heard you were practicing this morning.” Her coach, Melissa Graves, walked in.

“I was.”

“And you were dueling with Yuri Guskov.” Her coach put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.

Alyssa pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t call it dueling.”

“You went toe-to-toe with him. Let’s see, there were salchows, loops, axels, lutzs, camel spins…”

“Yes, we did that.”

“And then you fell.”

“I did.”

“And he helped you up.”

“He did.” Alyssa crossed her arms. “How do you know all this?”

“It’s spreading around the village that the reigning Russian men’s champion made a fool out of the reigning American women’s champion.”

“What? That’s crazy! That’s not what happened.”

“That’s not what the Japanese girl said.”

Alyssa waved her hands in the air. “What would she know? She didn’t skate with him.”

“Well, what was it?”

“It wasn’t meant to embarrass me.”

Her coach pointed to the note in Alyssa’s hand. “What’s that?”

“It’s from Yuri.”

Melissa raised her eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He invited me to watch his short program with his coach.”

“He did?”

“Yes, he did.”

Melissa cupped her cheek with her hand. Exasperation turned to confusion. “I didn’t know you knew him.”

“I just met him this morning.”

“Well, you shouldn’t go.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s not a good look. You’re an American.”

“So?”

“The Russians are the competition.”

Alyssa straightened her shoulders. “Maybe I want to go.”

“Are you attracted to him?” Her coach frowned.

Alyssa wasn’t about to admit to that, but she was drawn to him. “This is about sportsmanship.” She paused, “He asked. I’d be a poor sport if I didn’t go.”

“We have appearances to keep up. This is a competition, and it’s the first year the skating contingent will be judged as a team.”

Alyssa sighed. Her coach had a point about appearances. Clearly her skate with Yuri had been misconstrued. All the eyes of the world were on the athletes these two weeks. What else would be misinterpreted? She just knew in her heart that Yuri did not mean to embarrass her. But who would believe that? She turned to face the window and stared out of it.

*******

Yuri waited on the bench, tapping his fingers, watching the Chinese skater on the ice. Yuri didn’t get nervous anymore. He usually listened to his program music before he performed, but this time was different. He’d never invited his parents to the observation booth and here he was inviting an American. His coach wasn’t thrilled. She was the competition after all - and American! If she didn’t come tonight, she would make a fool out of him.

Yuri let out a small breath. Not the Alyssa he skated with. His heart told him she wouldn’t do that to him.

The Chinese skater finished his routine. Once his scores were posted, Yuri would be announced. Was his heart wrong?

Where was she?

He looked around.

“She won’t come,” said his coach.

Yuri frowned. He glanced at the judges who were furiously writing.

Security approached. “Gospodin Pankin, you have a visitor. Do you accept?”

Yuri stood and flexed his fingers. His adrenaline surged.

His coach got to his feet. “Is it a woman?”

“Yes, an American.”

“Allow it.”

Security let Alyssa into the box. She wore black athletic pants and a long sleeve form fitting shirt. Her hair hung over her shoulders loosely, and she wore a simple necklace with a gold cross. Yuri’s heart skipped a beat.

“You made it,” he whispered.

She approached him and held out her hand. “Believe me, a lot of people tried to talk me out of it, but I’m a good sport.”

Yuri reached out and squeezed her hand. “Sergei told me there was talk.” He paused and glanced at his coach. “He doubted you would come. You Americans are the competition after all.”

“My coach said the same thing.”

The scores for the Chinese skater came in.

Yuri stepped closer into her personal space, knowing they would announce him any second. “It does not matter to me that you are American. You are an amazing skater.” He swallowed, realizing he wanted to add she was beautiful as well, but now was not the time or place.

“So are you.”

“And now, representing the Russian Federation, Yuri Guskov!”

“Udachi,” she said, smiling.

Yuri nodded, made the sign of the Russian Orthodox cross, and skated out onto the rink, setting himself as he waited for the music to begin.