The first day of practice for team USA began on an unusually bright and sunny Thursday at the Greater Alpine Ski Resort. Maven laid in her bed in the main hotel, window open and revealing a clear view of a set of slopes off the main entrance. She held an ice pack to her right hip, covering a brightly bruised area that had resulted from a fall the night prior on the halfpipe. She’d been to the medic first thing this morning, not for any other reason than to ensure she had documentation. After living this sport for so many years, she knew there was no such thing as being too careful, and especially as it pertained to injuries.

Annoyingly enough, the medic found that the bruising went deeper than she thought, and he told her to take the day off from team workouts, and ski and snowboard training too, if she could help it. Being on three teams, Maven was dramatically overcommitted and knew that wasn’t an option. Certainly, she could skip something, but not everything. She decided to take the morning, canceling her morning workout with Snowboard and her morning ski with Alpine. Around three, she left the hotel to go to her individual practice with the freestyle ski coach, and returned around five. At eight, a formal dinner began for Team USA in the large banquet hall at the lodge. All of the teams within the greater American team were attending, meaning Maven would be expected to be with three teams at once. She’d already discussed everything with her coaches and they had been fairly understanding. She’d start by walking in with Alpine, then sneak out the side and walk back through with Freestyle Ski, then the same with Snowboard. She had the most time to congregate with them due to the order in which the teams were being invited in. Then, she’d spend the evening on her feet, working the room and spending time evenly spread between everyone. Not just her teams, but the large mass of Americans being held in the space. She was a rookie on every team she’d been recruited to, and besides that, popularity was important to her. She wanted to be someone everyone knew and was impressed by.

At a quarter til, Maven walked up the entrance to the lodge, looking for the Alpine Ski team in a large group of people. Her hair was mostly down and curled, her makeup done. She wore a short, brightly colored dress that definitely made her stand out in the crowd. However, it only contributed to her demeanor of confidence and social suaveness, which she utilized to navigate the crowd with efficiency. She never stopped for more than a few seconds, and only to introduce herself to anyone that turned to look her in the eye. Several men tried to stop her and keep her speaking to them, but she was able to manuever each individual situation as if she’d done it a thousand times. Finally, she got to a group with Alpine Skiing builds, and she assumed she was in the right place. She hadn’t met anyone prior to coming, and she barely remembered anyone from the first day, other than a few flirty men who she’d exchanged glances with in the hallways of the building. It was a huge building, though, filled with several teams. From what she already knew, at least New Zealand, Canada, and Australia had partial or full teams lodging for the season. She was eager to find out more, especially outside the realms of her own team. Building alliances outside made for less drama.

About an hour later, Maven had made it through the crowd and into the banquet hall twice, and back out three times. She made it to the Snowboard team, of which she also knew no one. The stress of missing the first practices was starting to get to her, though she refused to place any of the responsibility on her membership of three teams. She reached the most intriguing group of guys and approached with a smile. At least two of them had already been staring, which made it an easy entrance she would have taken regardless of her interest in them. “Hey,” she smiled nonchalantly, trying to appear friendly but not overly friendly or excited to be here. This demeanor had suited her well for the first portion of the night. “This is Snowboard, yeah? I’m Maven.”

Finley scanned the woman who approached the group he'd hidden himself in. He was too tired for this nonsense. They hadn't even been at the lodge that long, this dinner was to help the team get to know each other. Was this a smart decision though? He'd been up since the wee hours of the morning trying to get his body to adapt to the new timezone. It wasn't working so far. Not to mention his coach had been in a particularly peachy mood that morning. His toes were still thawing out even after his piping hot shower. Now he was stuck in a stuffy room with people he didn't know and then this chick who had been making rounds with the USA Team. Finley hadn't even bothered to learn the names of the guys around him.

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Fin picked a piece of imaginary lint off his shoulder and released it. He offered the pretty girl a smile that was far from genuine. Batting his baby blues at her as he spoke, "Yep. I'm Finley," he responded, doing a salute with his fingers, not bothering to introduce the few guys around him who were ogling her. Shamelessly. Fin wouldn't deny he understood it, but jeez. She was right there. No doubt she knew it too. He looked between the group and decided he was rather finished with them. Maven looked like she'd be able to handle them. Probably better than Finley ever could. With one more forced grin, he nodded his leave. "I'm going to head to the refreshments. I'll see you around, Maven."

.

The male left the crowd with a wave but instead of heading towards the refreshments, he went outside the lodge. Finley shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a deep sigh. Was he even allowed to call it a night? Just disappear? No doubt he'd hear about it from his coach.

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"If you keep scowling like that, you're going to have wrinkles by thirty. That's not exactly ideal, is it?" A small voice called, causing Finley to whip his head over to the person it belonged to. Her voice fit her, he decided, the ginger was short and small. Practically drowning in the cream colored sweater that overlapped her leggings. And he thought he was underdressed with just his button up and khakis. She tugged on a piece of her long hair as she looked through the window of the lodge. "I haven't talked to anyone yet. I'm a little nervous." Red admitted, eyes popping open as she released a nervous laugh. "I'm Josephine. You can call me Josie if you'd like."

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Finley scoffed a bit, shaking his head. "Go on in then, Josie. The crowd in there? Wild. Party animals." When he noticed her already pale complexion lighten, he laughed. "Nah, just go on in." He watched through his peripherals as she walked in. A few more minutes went by and he went back in. He should at least make an effort. Or it was going to be a very, very boring season. Finley rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and strolled back up to the group he had willingly abandoned not too long before. Still making googly eyes at the Maven Creature. Points for not drooling though.

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Finley stopped to the right of Maven and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Alright, what are you chatty Kathy's talking about now?" He asked, plastering a premade smile across his features. Fin tried to relax his features and seem to enjoy the evening. All it did was make him miss home. The homesickness had really been hitting him hard lately. But this was a perfect opportunity to help with that. People. Distractions.

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***

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Josephine entered but couldn't really figure out where the skaters were. Of she did, would she really want to know them? Mother told her to be cautious as she entered the games here. Unfortunately, Josie didn't have any of the people skill to actually help her while she was away. So she stuck to the wall, her own bottle of water clutched in her hands. Occasionally, she would take a sip.

.

She thought she hit a lucky streak when she watched the guy from outside make an entrance.... and then she watched him walk across the room into a group of guys and probably one of the most intimidating women she'd ever seen. So he had just been taking a break. Unfortunately, he was the only one she had had the nerve to talk to thus far. Excellent. But

Judging by his crowd, the only thing they had in common was that they were in the same room.

The light in Maven’s bright eyes diminished when Finley walked away. Chasing after him would have made her seem clingy, dependent, and undignified, which she couldn’t afford. If her image wasn’t at stake, she certainly would have followed him. For the last few days, she’d heard people mention him in passing in conversations that weren’t hers to contribute to. His reputation preceded him, and Maven had been waiting to see him for herself. Apparently, he was incredibly competitive and full of energy. An avant-garde snowboarder. Someone Maven knew she would want to get to know. Now, she had more questions than ever, starting with whether the man she was watching leave was actually the Finley she’d heard about. The name seemed uncommon enough, and she didn’t think she misheard him, so why did he seem so antisocial? And, perhaps more importantly, why did he arrive late? She heard he had, but never the why. Presumably, that had something to do with his poor mood.

Still, all of this was speculation, and she struggled to keep herself present in the conversation with the other guys. All of them were turning out to be total airheads, and she couldn’t stomach it much longer. She wanted to get away, but she knew she’d have three teams after her if she did. It wasn’t a risk she could take, despite getting gradually more exhausted with each interaction. Her eyes followed Finley to the door in subtle glances as she multitasked.

“Yeah, Steve talks a good game, but I was actually there to see your first Backside Triple Cork 1620. In person. Not to mention that time we were at the bar together, I’m sure you remember.”

Maven rolled her eyes. “I sure don’t. But, whatever. It’s nice to meet a fan.” She turned to the other guy, Steve. She forgot his last name before it’d even left his mouth. “Two fans. I wouldn’t forget you, Steve.” She winked at them and crossed her arms, prepared for whatever backlash came from her statement. She knew how fragile men’s egos could be, and what they would do to avenge them. She glanced back over at the door to find Finley returning to their group. She quickly averted her eyes, pretending not to care. Pretending they hadn’t made eye contact, and she hadn’t been watching the door. She quickly resumed small talk with Derrick and Steve, trying to create some kind of ambiance for Finley could return to that proved she wasn’t desperate for him to return.

"Alright, what are you chatty Kathy's talking about now?"

She glanced up at him, beaming. A mischievous twinkle shined in her eyes. “How fake your smile is, and how bad of a time it looks like you’re having.” She paused for effect before continuing, cocking her head to one side and glancing up at him. She crossed her arms again. “Care to join in?”

If it was any other kind of party, Maven would have taken him by the hand and introduced him to everyone she knew. Still, she recognized that this wasn’t that kind of party. Undoubtedly, those would exist too. She heard one of the other teams had been permanently uninvited back after an incident with a rager a few years back. Most of her hoped she’d be there to witness something like that happening again this year.

Gesturing to the water in his hand, Maven studied him amusedly. A dimpled smirk emerged from her formerly neutral expression. “Water? No, that won’t do. I heard the hockey team was planning on breaking out the vodka red bulls pretty early on. God, no wonder you’re unhappy.” She glanced up at him, just about to invite him on her side quest to track down her hockey player friends when their coach signaled that they were being invited in. Not long after, their names were announced as they walked in and sat at their tables. Much to her annoyance, Finley was placed at another table, likely due to wherever it was that his last name fell on the alphabet. She was placed with five women and three men. Most of them were either dramatically superficial to the point where Maven couldn’t even tolerate them, or simply too introverted, too stoic, too serious. Her gaze followed to Finley’s table across the room from her. She tried to focus on the presentation of the remaining few teams, but her mind wouldn’t allow it. She’d already chosen the one person she wanted to fixate on for the night, and she couldn’t let him go.

Maven called him out. "How fake your smile is, and how bad of a time it looks like your having." She said before pausing. "Care to join?" Finley laughed, a shark bark he quickly shut down, shaking his head. Good one. She was good. And the others seemed to think so too.

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Finley grinned, mimicking her actions by crossing his arms. "Is it really that noticeable? I feel like Coach would have dragged me by my ears if it didn't look good enough. Anyways, signals. That means food. Catch ya later," he waved, making his way to the table marked with his name. Alphabetical Placings. What was this, a wedding? Either way. He had a feeling he'd be seeing Maven a lot more than he originally anticipated. The real kicker was: was he ready for that? His immediate response to that was a hard no. Withing ten minutes he had decided she would be someone he kept at arm's length at best. At best.

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The table he sat with was uninteresting. Two guys and two girls. Every single one of them trying to up the others. More than once, Finley scoffed. Mainly because he'd seen almost every single one of them practicing the moves they were each bragging amount. Many of them failing. Needless to say, he kept up with them. Laughing, joking, exclaiming in shock when someone mentioned a wild adventure they had. Yet his social battery was draining. Rapidly. But at least the food was good. He looked over at one of the smaller girls, Sarah?, and stabbed a potato. "Momma always said to eat my veggies," he said, popping the piece into his mouth. Swallowing, he nodded to hers. "Seriously, if you're one of the early practice people. Eat up, kiddo." Sasha? Rolled her eyes, but eventually stopped picking at her plate and took a few bites.

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Eventually, conversation got dull. Every now and then someone would break it to ask questions. Harley, he thought... he was awful with names, perked up. She brought out a smile that already had the others in a grip. "So, Finley, anyone at home waiting for your return?" Sarah/Sasha/Sadie, who sat beside her, immediately turned beet red and her mouth popped open in shock. Admittedly his eyes widened. Were they not here for a sport?

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Finley wrinkled his nose ever so slightly but eventually laughed. "Nah. Not anymore. I'm here for snow boarding and nothing else, so don't get any ideas, sugar." He cooed, blinking his eyes at her. Hannah didn't know what to think of it and ended up muttering something about how she respected it. Finley nodded along until his battery was on dangerously low. "Well guys, it's been fun, but my head is killing me. Tell me if I miss anything important, aight?"

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With those words, he left the hall. It wasn't exactly a lie but it wasn't actually a truth either. His head was hurting because of the amount of brain cells he had left were already in low numbers. After that? Half. He was almost a goner! A sigh escaped him and he headed to his room. Where the good kind of chaos is present.

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*****

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Josephine sipped on her water, having placed the bottle beneath her chair. The dinner was going good as far as she was concerned. Food was good, the conversation was good, and she didn't feel too uncomfortable in the setting. Once the food had nearly disappeared, the conversation picked up at a quicker pace than before. Josie learned in a few short moments that these ladies and gentlemen she sat with were wolves rather than the pretty masks they were presenting. Slowly, Josie started to get tense.

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She scanned the lot of them. Two were gents and two were ladies. All had been far and wide for they're competions whether it was solitary or in pairs. They would even confess to watching the recordings of the other's performances. The redhead sat there with her sweet smile, nodding along for most of the time as people took turns complimenting and jabbing. Dancing with their words. She thought she was safe.

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As she sipped her water, she nearly jumped as she was addressed by a blonde wearing a cream colored dress. "Josephine... McCoy, correct?" When Josie nodded she continued. "My, my. You used to do some daring lifts, hmm? My coach had me watch them often when I was doing pairs. How are you doing with that, by the way?"

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Josie froze momentarily, cheeks heating as she placed her glass down. "It's going. I'm fully healed. I was going to just do the women's skating but I prefer pairs, if that's what you're wondering." She finished in her calmest voice she could managed with her throat suddenly so tight. Josephine smiled, excusing herself to the powder room for a moment. It took her several minutes to get her breathing to normal and her throat to release. It had been ages since the accident, but not a single lift had been preformed since that day. She couldn't bring herself to do them anymore. But she couldn't give up Skating like that so her mother made a few calls. And here she was. Not rehab, but... a harder push than 'you can do it'.

Maven watched Finley leave when the program finished and the cocktail hour began. He was an anomaly, she’d decided, and she was now dedicated to figuring him out. She’d met a lot of people in her lifetime as an extravagant socialite, especially one with good looks and charm, but a select few managed to capture her attention in a way such as he had. Perhaps it was his attire, or the way she was so convinced he had been playfully flirting with her, mocking her, mirroring her movements. She knew she hadn’t imagined it. No, it was definitely the attire. Who wears a button up and khakis to an explicitly stated black tie affair? Even for male snowboarders–and the bar was very low, especially for Maven who’d never left the presence of such individuals since birth–the bar was very low. And somehow, he and several others had still managed to miss it.

Unlike Finley, Maven felt obligated to stay and socialize for another few hours. Part of her walked out the door with him, leaving her insides cold and lonely and hollow for the remainder of the evening. The other part of her was glad he was gone, so she could tear up and have fun with her new friends, also known as the entirety of Team USA. It wasn’t so different from home once the majority of individuals had dipped into the hockey team’s liquor stash: everyone either was Maven’s best friend, or wanted to be. She gladly obliged.

It was already three or four in the morning by the time the party dispersed, Maven taking most of it with her when she went. Despite the minimal vodka she’d inhaled (and only to keep the party going) to keep herself prepared for the long day ahead of her on virtually no sleep, Maven had consumed an ungodly amount of the red bull they were mixing with, and was practically manic by the time she made it back to the hotel. She was too busy explaining why adult middle children should be the only individuals allowed to run for president to a member of the men’s bobsled team to realize she’d gotten off on the wrong floor, and had, in fact, gotten off one floor too early. Without looking at the room number on the door, she walked down the hall by muscle memory stopping when she got to ‘her’ door. After fumbling clumsily with the room key for many minutes, thinking she was being quiet but definitely not in actuality, Maven jumped backwards when Finley opened the door. “Damn, if you wanted to go back to my place you should’ve just asked.” Her tone was dripping with humor, even with the quick, jumbled pace of her words. Her entire demeanor was ninety-percent caffeine-induced and ten-percent vodka-induced. It showed. “But seriously, bruh, why’re you in my room, dude? I don’t remember leaving it open.”

–

“How much longer?” Flynn mumbled, barely coherently. He was laying on the ice in one of the resort’s main rinks, staring up at the ceiling. His skates were on and laced, and much against his will, he was not wearing pajamas but clothes to skate in. All of this, and Alia wasn’t even sure the girl was going to want to skate tonight. Or with him. At all. Ever. That one, they were much more confident in. But at a quarter to one when Alia had come barging into his room, calling incessantly until he picked up, she’d had him “be prepared, just in case,” as if every moment of his life wasn’t him equipping himself and his siblings with the utmost of preparedness. As if he wasn’t the most reliable brother. Not that the other option was any comparison at all. If there was a list of prepared people that encompassed the entire world population, Brent still wasn’t even being considered. They would have put a domestic housecat on the list to take his place before they considered letting his name grace the bottom of the list.

“This whole thing is kind of stupid, really,” he paused, glancing up at his sister from her position beside the open gate to the ice. “I think you and her coach are playing with fire. Even if she agrees to skate with me, what’ll happen then? She’s gonna get her confidence back, then say, ‘thanks, I’m ready to move onto a partner I can actually compete on an international level with because I have no attachment to you at all’? Not everyone’s as heartless and detached as you and I, Alia. She’s gonna get attached to me, and there’s nothing we can do about it because I have no ties to the US of A, and correct me if I’m wrong, but she has no ties to New Zealand, either. And even if I did, I probably wouldn’t change my life around for another country and another person’s prosperity. No, I definitely wouldn’t. So, why am I doing this? Why are you doing this to her? Why’s her coach? A shortage of skaters isn’t the problem. You know damn well you could probably coerce Brent’s fragile ego into doing it if he was hot enough, bare minimum. And he’s got the American lineage to make a lasting partnership with her. So, why me?”

As he finished his sentence, they heard the outer doors to the rink open. Luckily, she wouldn’t have been able to hear any of that, unless she had waited to open it until they were done. Panic rippled through Flynn at that thought. The only thing worse than being in this situation was being in this situation with a partner who thought he had doubts about their partnership. Especially one whose trust he was supposed to be gaining. It was his job to teach her to trust again, but to not do such a good job that she could only trust him, and not her next American partner–the one he was a stepping stone to prepare her for.

Alia gave him a look, and harshly and quietly replied, “we’ll discuss it later. Now, stand up and act nice, like my brother that I know and love. Not the grouchy old man Flynn we all have to deal with when it’s past nice Flynn’s extremely liberal bedtime of, oh, what is it? 8pm?”

“Seven thirty,” he corrected, “and it’s well past that, so let’s make this quick, yeah? You better do most of the talking.”

Finley had taken a moment to unwind and crawled in bed after checking his phone, ignoring any notifications anyways. He was exhausted so it didn't take long for the man to be asleep. Hours into his slumber he jolted awake to the sound of someone messing around his door. Finley picked up his cell to check the time and his eyes almost popped out of his head. 4:35... AM. Who was at his door at four in the morning? He groaned audibly. No messages from his coach. After listening to the struggle for a few more moments, Finley got up and checked through the peephole, grabbing a shirt and his pajama pants as he crossed the room. Just in case it was his coach.

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Maven.

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Fin unlocked the door and watched as she looked at him in confusion. "Damn, if you wanted to go back to my place you should’ve just asked." She had to be intoxicated. "But seriously, bruh, why’re you in my room, dude? I don’t remember leaving it open." Maven said, and he could tell she genuinely was clueless.

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Finley tilted his head and barked out a bit of laughter. "Maven, I think you're on the wrong floor." He opened the door wider for her to see the nearly trashed room. His things were thrown across the space in no particular order to the naked eyes. The lost look in her eyes reminded him why he didn't drink. "C'mon, kiddo. What floor are you supposed to be on?" He asked her, stepping out and shutting the door. Not bothering to lock it. He waited for her response before leading her to the elevator and clicking the button. He would have had to wake up in a half hour anyways for cardio and maybe leg day? Maybe it was arms. Whatever, Coach would tell him anyways.

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He stopped at what he assumed would be her door. And nodded, "Alright, this is where the Fin Express stops. I hope you enjoyed your ride," he yawned, placing his hands loosely on his hips. He tilted his head, slightly confused. Maven had caught his eye at first in the way that she caught most's, but he hadn't given her much thought other than that. She was social, extremely so, and yet she wasn't completely wasted in the way he knew Willa would be in this situation. He still needed to talk to her. Fin's grin faded into a flat line. "Night, Maven. See ya round." He said, leaving the way he came before he thought too much.

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When he finally returned to his room he changed into his sweat set that he liked the most and grabbed his duffel from off the floor, setting it on the bed. He picked up his phone and finally checked those messages that had been sitting there since he left America.

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He pressed the magic button and listened to the phone ring.

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******

Josephine left the moment that drinks were starting to be poured. She had recovered from earlier, excusing herself from the group to leave. Her coach sent her a message to meet her at a specific rink. At that moment. Suspicious. She had to run back to her room to grab her skates and change into her sleeves and the thick leggings she wore for skating. Slipping into her tennis shoes, she was off.

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By the time she arrived it was another thirty minutes after. She sighed, calling her coach as she headed for the doors. "Hey, Julie. Yeah. I'm running a bit behind but I'm almost to the front doors of the rink."

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"Jo, I ain't there," was the reply Josephine got. "Listen, there's going to be at least two people there. Alia and Flynn, they're going to help you get your groove back before you start competing internationally again."

.

"What?"

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"Yeah. I reached out to Alia to see if she could find someone to work with you on some lifts. You haven't done any since the accident and you're a good skater, Jo, but you're even better when you're paired. Give it a shot. If it doesn't work, we can shift you back into women's skating," Julie sighed over the phone. Josephine could imagine the woman shaking her head. "Two weeks. At least two weeks, then you can complain or quit or whatever. Until then, I don't want to hear it. If it's about your partner, don't worry. I've heard that he's a handful and rather distant, but he's a temporary until we find someone on the US team, got it?"

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Josephine opened the doors, shutting them once she was inside. "Fine," She said aloud. Inwardly she told herself this warrants a brownie. Or at least some cookies.

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She stopped at the entrance to the ice and looked at who occupied it. The two must have been having a serious conversation because she felt like she was a fish out of water by the way they were looking at her. Josephine gulped and gave a small wave, smiling awkwardly. "Hello," She said, it came out a bit more French sounding than she expected. "Alia?" She asked, turning to the woman in the rink. "Coach told me to meet you here. It's rather late, so if you don't mind me asking... why didn't we wait until tomorrow?" She asked. A genuine question. The only reason she rushed was because it was coach. And Julie reported to her mother.

"Maven, I think you're on the wrong floor." She crossed her arms, half hoping he would mirror her movements as he did earlier. If he did it again, maybe she would have some sort of confirmation that she hadn’t imagined it the first time. She was too prideful to, in her words, ‘take any Ls,’ especially as they applied to this particular individual. Which was rather unfortunate, seeing as she was, most certainly, on the wrong floor. A glance to the sign above his door confirmed this.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she muttered slowly. Well, she thought it was slowly. It was rather quickly, and at an adrenaline-influenced volume due to the inhumane levels of caffeine she’d consumed. “Fuck, my bad, bestie.” She didn’t deny the opportunity to pry and see a glimpse into his room. She was a firm believer in the fact that people kept their rooms the way they kept their minds, and she jumped at the opportunity to look inside his. Though, it was dark, and she couldn’t see much other than the fact that it was a mess. “Sorry for whatever you’ve been through,” she muttered gently, forgetting not everyone could read minds and understand exactly what she was talking about, and also forgetting that the vast majority of people were too polite or indifferent to ask. “Hope you heal soon.”

"C'mon, kiddo. What floor are you supposed to be on?" The look in his eyes made her writhe under his gaze. It was pity mixed with something even worse: genuine care. Suddenly, she regretted every decision she had made that had led her to this moment. She couldn’t stand the way he was looking at her. He had no right.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she crossed her arms, but this time, it wasn’t for any reason other than to subconsciously reflect the way she’d thrown her guard up ten miles high. She wasn’t playing anymore. Her eyes grew cold, and her tone was bitter. “I’m not who you think I am, and I don’t need your help. I’m sorry I woke you up.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked back down the corridor as fast as she could towards the elevator. Much to her annoyance, it wouldn’t come nearly fast enough.

–

Flynn studied the girl with a cold gaze for a few moments before resuming his task of brushing spare flakes of ice off his clothing. Of course, this did nothing to stop the cold, damp feeling seeping through his bones from the lengthy amount of time he’d spent laying there, but he tried not to pay too much attention to it. The stinging feeling that had been pulsing through his body had kept him awake and more alert than he wanted to be. He needed to be fairly conscious if he was going to handle skating with a new partner after such a long period of absence from the sport.

“Hello,” she said, glancing from one sibling to the other. She settled on Alia without seeming to give it much thought. Flynn wasn’t surprised. Women were often like that, feeling more comfortable with a member of the same sex in an unfamiliar or uncomfortable situation. He assumed it was some act of the evolved subconscious, something about seeing women as less of a threat. “Alia?”

“You must be Josephine,” Alia said calmly, in a professional tone that held the slightest hint of warmth. “Nice to meet you.”

"Coach told me to meet you here. It's rather late, so if you don't mind me asking... why didn't we wait until tomorrow?"

“Good question,” Flynn mumbled. He wasn’t putting in any effort to try to convince anyone he was happy to be here. “Why didn’t we wait until tomorrow, Alia?”

“Oh hush, Flynn,” she batted him in the head with the folder in her hand. She turned back to the girl standing beside the rink. “You’ll have to excuse him, he’s a bit of a grandpa and it’s well past his bedtime. He’s not usually like this.” Proceeding to answer the question, she added, “I’m actually not entirely sure, last I checked with your coach she made the arrangements for you to meet as soon as you were finished with your team dinner, which, here we are. I’m assuming it was because she wanted the pair of yous to start working together as soon as possible. I’m guessing she has a competition in mind? Anyways, never mind that. I want to make sure you’re feeling okay with all of this, do you have any questions for Flynn or I? Here’s a packet I made filled with his information from his skating days. They’ve passed him a bit, but I know he’ll bounce right back in no time. If you’re up to it, I’m sure you two could start skating tonight.”

“And, you are up to it, I’m assuming.” His figure was tall and brooding, making shapes with his right skate in the ice while he stood idly. Dark eyes demanded the answer to be yes, in some capacity. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Fin watched as she stormed away and scoffed a bit. Fine. From now on when anyone seemed like they needed help, he would be letting them struggle. It's four fucking thirty in the morning. He still held the phone up to his ear as he shouldered the duffel bag and left his room, making sure it was locked before he left. "You've reached Willa. Can't pick up right now You know what to do....Beee-" he didn't wait for the sound to finish before he pressed the red button and shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweat pants.

.

Another unfortunate event: he ended up walking after Maven for the elevators. Nearly groaned out loud. This is why you're not nice to people, Finley. He decided he would be taking a turn for the stairs instead. "If you pull that stick out of your ass and want to hangout. I'm headed to the gym," he said in passing to the dark hair woman. He didn't even owe her that. For someone who acted like she wanted everyone to love her, she sure had a different side. He continued to the stairs at his own pace. Walked down them at his own pace. And called for an Uber at his own pace. He still had an hour and a half before his coach would be expecting to see him there.

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Finley hated working out with the US team. Or a large group anyways. Boarding was different, everyone's got their own way of doing the same thing. At the gym though? Somehow people have to put in their imput about it all. Always. About the weights being used, how long you jog, how heavy you're breathing afterwards. Going to the gym used to make him so aggravated it wasn't funny. So he'd started building one in the basement of his home. And now since he was an ocean away from the comfort of his own home: His coach was nice enough to find a more secluded spot. Finley wouldn't say it, but it meant a lot to him. His coach had his moments of being the absolute greatest and then because an absolute aggravation.

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As soon as he entered, waving to the blurry eyed employee, he realized he didn't tell Maven where he worked out at. Oh well, he thought as he plugged his ears with airport, maybe he would have remembered if she hadn't suddenly had a mood swing like that. What did she mean "don't look at me like that?" And "I'm not who you think I am". The second half made more sense. They didn't know eachother at all. That's why he'd be surprised if she had wanted to come along anyways. A sigh escaped him as he stepped on the treadmill. This was why he stuck with Brian, Josh, Haley, and well, Willa. But one of those people wasn't talking to him. And that rubbed him the wrong way.

.

*********

Josephine listened attentively, trying to soak it up as Alia spoke. While it was a relief that her temporary partner was on her side about how late it was, she was becoming increasingly glad that he was temporary. His attitude was like sour milk, and that was a mild way of saying it. If he knew the reason why she needed more trainers other than her own coach, he probably thought rather little of her. Not that she was shocked.

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"Oh hush, Flynn," She said, batting the folder she held in her hands onto her brother's head. “You’ll have to excuse him, he’s a bit of a grandpa and it’s well past his bedtime. He’s not usually like this.” Proceeding to answer the question, she added, “I’m actually not entirely sure, last I checked with your coach she made the arrangements for you to meet as soon as you were finished with your team dinner, which, here we are. I’m assuming it was because she wanted the pair of yous to start working together as soon as possible. I’m guessing she has a competition in mind? Anyways, never mind that. I want to make sure you’re feeling okay with all of this, do you have any questions for Flynn or I? Here’s a packet I made filled with his information from his skating days. They’ve passed him a bit, but I know he’ll bounce right back in no time. If you’re up to it, I’m sure you two could start skating tonight.” Josie walked over and gently took the folder, flipping through it.

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"And, you are up to it, I’m assuming," Flynn said. A good part of Josie said to tell them no. Grab the next flight home. And never show her face in public again. But, ugh, to wipe that expression off of his face.

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Josie swallowed and looked back to Alia, the one making this process easier. "For a bit. My day starts at four and it's already almost 1:30," She sighed, sitting on the bench so she could replace her boots with her skates. Josie set the folder beside her. She hadn't really taken a good look at it. If Coach thought they were good enough then they would have to be. How can she continue in pairs if she can't stand doing lifts? She silently cursed her ex-partner's name. It took her only a few moments to get her skates laced to her preferred tightness and she removed her yellow blade guards before making her way onto the ice. One thing she never got used to: the cold. She looked at Flynn and offered her hand for a shake in a businesslike manner. "I understand that this is temporary, honestly, it is a bit embarrassing that I'm in need of more help than just my coach. If you've talked to Julie, my coach, you also know that last year I had a nasty fall after a, um, lift. She has a lot of faith in you guys to help me get back on my feet on the ice. Therefore I will put forth the effort if you'll have some patience," She said, eyeing Flynn. Could he hold her up? Her last parter had been decently built and still dropped her. Then again, she shaved off a lot after that.

.

"Either way, I'm not allowed to say I don't like you for at least two weeks," She smiled sweetly. "So, what is it that you'd like to start on?" And she sent a thousand prayers that this wouldn't last longer than a half hour. And at least two thousand more for the man she'd been paired up with. Josephine was up for that negativity rubbing off on her.

As Maven made her way to the elevator, she saw Finley pursuing her in her peripheral vision. He mumbled something about going to the gym, as if it was a perfectly normal response to a situation like this to want to work out with the other person immediately following the argument. She scoffed and tapped her index finger against her other arm, waiting for the doors to open. When he burst through the door to the stairs directly beside the elevator to save his fragile little ego, she smirked. The elevator doors opened and she stepped in, loosely coherent with her brain a million miles away due to the effects of all the caffeine she’d ingested. She was starting to realize she’d had way too many, especially if she was going to manage the day ahead of her. There was no chance in hell she was going to make it to sleep with her heart racing the way it was, and with her mind buzzing with thoughts a million miles an hour. She felt anxious and irritable, and it was mainly directed at Finley even though somewhere deep down she knew it wasn’t his stuff to take on, and she probably owed him an apology.

Still, she was far too stubborn for that, especially when her mind was still in the place it was in and would be in for the foreseeable future. Luckily, it was a slow day in the middle, and was mostly busy towards the end of the night other than a workout with snowboard in an hour or two and a ski practice with alpine in the late afternoon. If her body willed it, she’d be able to sleep off the vodka part of the awful concoction that had messed her up between the early morning workout and the afternoon ski. She’d need it if she was going to manage back to back practices with ski and snowboard for three hours in the late night time period. That was enough to handle sober and rested, not to mention hungover and sleep deprived.

She threw something on the bed that’d been in her hand for at least the past hour, she had no idea what it was and she paid it no mind. She was in a manic state trying to get undressed, brush the curls out of her hair, and get rid of the makeup she’d put on in an attempt to impress her teammates. Charm them, rather, borderline seduce them. Clearly it’d worked in most cases, once she turned her phone back on after it’d been on the charger for a while, it wouldn’t stop vibrating. She’d networked so hard that a million guys were blowing up her social media accounts, texting her, calling her, everything. It only increased the anxiety that was accumulating as a result of the caffeine trip she was on, which in turn only made her more manic. Finley had pissed her off–for what reason she’d forgotten within twenty minutes due to the rapid and unpredictable pattern of thoughts she was experiencing–but she couldn’t deny that the gym sounded like the best place to be at that moment in time. Even if it meant sharing space with him. Especially if it meant sharing space with him, in the contexts of being able to outlift, outsquat, and out-everything him. Well, maybe not everything, especially considering he was extremely tall and she was barely average height for a woman. It was worth a try, though, and what better time than after drinking enough vodka red bulls.

Reluctantly, she took off the fourth outfit she’d changed into, letting the clothes fall onto the floor, joining the rest of the hazy mess she’d created. It was definitely true that a person’s room looked exactly the way their mind did at any given moment. This was a key example.

Throwing on one of her Team USA workout clothing sets and throwing a different one in her backpack to be sure she wasn’t wearing the wrong team’s workout uniform, she left her room with her charger, her phone, her backpack, her clothes, and the absence of at least three necessary items she’d probably be forced to go back for later. One of them was her ID card.

When she arrived back at the first floor, nearly pressing ‘4’ instead of ‘1’ to go back to Finley’s floor out of spite, she went straight to the gym only to find him missing. Part of her wanted to go back up and see why the hell he’d invited her to the gym just to stand her up, but then the drunk, groggy side of her brain reminded her that she didn’t like him, and this was what she wanted. After a bit of reluctance, she convinced herself to enter the gym on her own, which she did not succeed to do without her ID card. Only international athletes were allowed access to the resort’s amenities 24/7, and even that had its limits. She’d heard all the ski rinks actually closed at the time listed, and were only opened by request of a coach. Upon hearing that, she’d immediately wanted to attempt to break into one, but had to temper herself for fear of being removed from the team this early on. She could think of a million cooler ways to get kicked off team USA.

After several minutes of fighting with the door, a tall, athletic man opened it from the inside. He was wearing workout clothes that indicated team AUS, and seemed to be stoic. He just gave off the impression, though she couldn’t place it.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, smiling softly at him. She was a little embarrassed to need help, or to receive it in general.

“Yeah,” he said in a gentle tone, not seeming to mind. He returned to his place on one of the ellipticals and she started on the rowing machine. After an hour she decided it was time to walk to the big gym across the way. Surely she’d be a bit early for their workout, but it was worthwhile to show effort and promise. Throwing on a heavy jacket, she began her walk through the cold morning air.

—

Listening inattentively, Flynn narrowly resisted the urge to lay back down on the ice. He was getting less and less lucid with every passing minute, it felt like being in a fever dream. Or off a drug trip, from what he’d read in articles or from the way he’d seen Brent act from time to time. He was never one for excessive social events, and certainly avoided all of the ways that most of the people his age tended to want to lose control. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been drunk in his life, and the majority of them came from Alia spiking his tea or coffee before a big competition to get him to loosen up.

Still, the delirium that was setting in gave him the urge to lay on the ice and go back to making loosely-formed, poorly-made snow angels, as he’d been absent mindedly doing while Alia gave him information he was definitely supposed to know. In theory, anyway. In application, she definitely knew better than to try to do anything with him past his bedtime, important or not. That was why they had breakfast together every morning after morning sessions. It was the time of day that Flynn was able to concentrate best, and it didn’t hurt for the pair to have the opportunity to give each other a heads up on anything upcoming that mattered. This, however, was not that time. It hardly felt like morning at all, even if the time on the clock said A.M. Flynn loosely tuned back in to see Josephine looking him up and down, a fearful look on her face. Ignoring her expression, he smirked at her without saying a word. When Alia turned to look at him, the cocky expression had vanished. Instead, he offered her his hand to step onto the ice.

The girl had an annoying way of saying absolutely way too much to say a little. Flynn was more of a cliff notes kind of individual, both in receiving and offering information. Still, he tried to force interest into his flat expression, withholding an eye roll or several as he listened to a ted talk on why he should care. Even when she finished, she still wasn’t finished. "Either way, I'm not allowed to say I don't like you for at least two weeks," She smiled sweetly. "So, what is it that you'd like to start on?"

“Either way, I’m not allowed to drop you for at least two weeks,” he muttered in a falsely sweet tone, mocking hers. “Just warm up like you normally would and I’ll track your movements.”

Finley started on the treadmill as per his usual. After he felt his mind had cleared, normally a mile in or so, he hopped off and switched to legs. Or was it supposed to be arm day? Didn't matter to him. Not really. The mirrors against the wall showed it every time he looked up. Dull, borderline angry in the face. He'd been there for nearly an hour now and occasionally his leg would twitch. It was the good kind of burn that was coursing through his chest, legs, and arms as he panted. An equally fiery song thundering in his ears as he went back to work with the weights. One legged dead lifts was the current. He much preferred squats. Yet running is the go to in a hurry. Cleared up his head to get him to think straight.

.

Fin sighed when he finally was finished. Nearly seven and completely soaked. His face looking red as he panted, hands on his hips.

.

"Bloody hell, mate. You've just been going like a train," a voice said when he pulled out an airpod. British by the accent. Smart by the tone. Finley looked over to see a blonde guy. At the benchpress all while looking like he could hardly hold it. He wasn't. The male just sat there with a grin on his face, pushing up his circular glasses. "Who upset you?" He asked, reaching for his water bottle. How had Finley not notice him earlier?

.

Fin glared at the stranger, "No one. 'Mate',, you sure you can lift the bar on your own?" He asked, making his way out the front. A glance at his phone told him not a single soul was interested in him. Save for his coach telling him.that candy is not breakfast. A bother. Really. This wasn't Fin's first year, but it was close to being his last. He called for a ride back to the resort. The driver ended up being a chatty kind of guy, pictures of his kids and wife across the back of his mirrors. Fin glanced at his phone. Still nothing.

.

He was going to regret this, but he dialed the number again and waited. It rang three times before someone answered, "Hello? Finny-kins, that you?"

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Fin sighed, hanging his head. "Brian, how.much have you had to drink?" A sort of grunt followed. "Willa there?"

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"For sure. She's passed out though. So are the others, bums." There was the sounds of shuffling as the other moved on their side of the phone. "I don't think she wants to talk to you. Third year in a row you said it was your last year and then you're back again. Willa is the kind of girl that's gotta have fun. And she's graduating next week for her art school or whatever. She's featured in her class's gallery. We're all making a trip to see. You think you'd be.able to round trip?"

.

Fin sucked in a breath. He'd forgotten all about that.

.

"No, it's too late notice. Carl would wring my neck," he sighed. Fin could practically see Brian's face falling into a flat line. He already knew. The silence said it all. "I gotta go, running late for practice."

.

"Mhm, sure. See ya." Click.

Finley paid the driver and ran through the doors, crashing into the elevator. Ruined. Would Willa even be there when he returned? From the evidence... 89% chance of a hard no. He smashed in the 4 button and leaned on the back wall. But this was his career, right? What he was supposed to live for. Too much too early. He glanced as the doors started to shut. Maven was in the gym provided. Fin scoffed, a small grin settled on his features. Maybe he could have a friend here.

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He threw the keys on his dresser once he entered and flopped on the bed, letting out a very unadult groan. Interviews for the teams would be within the next few days, between practices and those... his social battery would be on low for the next forever.

.

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“Either way, I’m not allowed to drop you for at least two weeks,” he muttered in a falsely sweet tone, mocking hers. “Just warm up like you normally would and I’ll track your movements.” Josie's eyes nearly lost their lids as she flared them open. The small voice in her head said that they were just there to help but she was already getting that lump in her throat. This would be the most awkward experience of her life, she just knew it. So she just nodded. Afraid that her voice might come out as a squeak instead of words.

.

Her body was slow at doing what she wanted at this hour. Josephine had already convinced herself it'd be as fine as a fiddle or whatever. Really, she was too tired for this. She pushed off, using the railing to send her off. She did her usual warm ups. Anything else might harm any possible progress. Either way she couldn't help but feel a bit... no, she was beyond that. She was being sluggish. So when she was warm, she was juat glad she didn't fall at this point, she slowed herself down to come to a stop in front of the pair.

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Jo wiped her hands on the thick leggings she wore. No gloves. She'd forgotten them in her room in her rush. The tips were already turning red. Her coach's favorite saying playing in her head. "Oh, Josie, ya just got piss for blood." But it just so happened to be more important than her regular practices. These were supposed to get her doing lifts again. That or she was done for. Gone. And then she'd take up some domestic life once she was kicked to the curb. Maybe get a dog or two.

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The redhead laughed nervously once she faced the two, "I'm sorry. I'm feeling really sluggish." She wouldn't deny it had affected her warm ups. Everything was lagging. Not to mention she was cold now, but she would not be complaining about that. Something told her the guy would remember it for far too long. And her gut chimed in with he's got baggage. But at least he was easier on the eyes than her last partner. That thought alone had her looking back to Alia. Bringing her hands into her underarms to warm them, she offered a small smile. "Do you think you can fix me then?" She asked, not bothering to hide the hope that had her barely breathing as she waited. If she wasn't fixable then she'd be going home. She didn't find the same enjoyment in just Women's, so no reason to stay in her opinion.

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