The Favorites: A Novel(50)
I perched on an overstuffed ottoman and started applying my makeup, letting their chatter wash over me. They traded tips on the perfect French manicure, talked about the new Harry Potter movie, and harmonized to “Naughty Girl,” Frannie hamming it up with a can of glitter hairspray as a microphone.
Was this what normal young women did on a Saturday night? I was only twenty-two, and I felt unspeakably ancient. I had nothing to add to the conversation, no interests outside of skating. It was easier for me to talk to a reporter for a television segment broadcast to millions than to make simple small talk with people my own age.
For the most part, Bella stayed quiet too, concentrating on creating perfect wings of black eyeliner extending all the way to her temples. I assumed she and Heath were performing their free dance program, but she seemed to be going for a more dramatic look than she’d worn for the Grand Prix series.
As I patted on a final layer of setting powder, Bella glanced over. “What are you going to do with your hair?”
“I don’t know.” So far that season, I’d gone the simple route: half up to keep it out of my face, secured with a hair clip covered in crystals that matched my dress.
“Want me to braid it for you?” she asked.
When I first started skating with Garrett, Bella had done my hair before almost every competition. Those were some of my favorite memories, sitting on the floors of hotel rooms from Spokane to St. Petersburg while Bella twisted and pinned with quick, expert fingers.
“Sure,” I said.
She motioned for me to take a seat in front of her, leaning back against the sofa. That put me right in the middle of the group, my knees hitting the metal coffee-table legs. Bella ran her hands through my hair, brushing out the tangles, and a warm tingling sensation spread down my spine. I’d missed this. I’d missed her.
Someone swapped the Beyoncé CD for Madonna’s Confessions on a Dance Floor, and soon the talk turned to the inevitable: cute boys.
Frannie had a crush on a South Korean pairs skater and was strategizing how to approach him when they were both in the same city for the Four Continents competition.
“Show us a picture,” Josie demanded.
Frannie produced her clamshell phone. The others gathered round.
“Oh my god, he’s gorgeous,” Amber squealed.
Chelsea squinted at the screen. “Kind of looks like a younger Garrett Lin.”
“He does,” Frannie sighed.
“First of all, not all Asian people look alike,” Bella said. Frannie started to apologize, but Bella cut her off. “And could you please refrain from lusting after my brother in my presence?”
“Sorry.” Amber shrugged. “But Garrett’s a hottie.”
I shifted, drawing my knees up under my chin.
“Hold still,” Bella told me.
Frannie scooted closer. She’d barely put on any makeup, beyond a few flicks of mascara and tinted moisturizer that emphasized her freckled complexion instead of concealing it. The things you can get away with when you’re sixteen. Her mother was the CEO of some global pharmaceutical conglomerate, which made her family even richer than Josie’s, but she struck me as a sweetheart rather than a spoiled brat. Maybe too sweet to survive this cutthroat sport.
“I’ve always wondered,” Frannie said. “Are you and Garrett, like…”
“We’re just friends,” I said.
She frowned. “Really? But you two are so perfect together.”
“He’s a great partner.”
The sort of answer I would give in an interview—but it was also the truth. The two of us had an easy rapport from the start, and I knew plenty of people assumed we were dating. We denied it, until Sheila told us not to bother. Let them think what they want was her advice.
So we let the rumors slide. Sometimes we even played into them, accidentally or on purpose—walking around arm in arm with the natural ease of people who spend hours a day touching, snatching food off each other’s plates at post-competition banquets, gushing to reporters about how much we adored working together.
Part of me was always waiting for Garrett to make a move. Back in Nagano, Bella had said he liked me—and he did seem to enjoy my company. He’d never dated anyone in the skating world, and we didn’t have time to meet many people outside of it.
I could have been disappointed, or even insulted. But it was a relief, in a way. I wasn’t sure how I would react if Garrett tried to take things between us to the next level. Better to keep going the way we were, as good friends and colleagues. I knew all too well how wrong a romance between skating partners could go.
Since I’d been such a poor source of gossip, the girls turned their attention to Bella. She was nearly finished with my hair, coiling the plaits and pinning them at my nape.
“What about you, Bella?” Amber said.
“Yeah, what about you?” Chelsea waggled her freshly plucked eyebrows.
Bella stiffened, tugging the braid so tight that my scalp stung.
“Come on, spill,” Frannie said. “Cause we all know there’s no way you and Heath Rocha are ‘just friends.’?”
Chapter 32
“Heath and I are skating partners,” Bella said. “That’s all.”
Her voice had taken on the same smooth, political tone Sheila adopted when asked any question she’d rather not answer. But was Bella uncomfortable because the girls were talking like this in front of me, or because there was some truth to what they said?