Lutz into Love

It was an addiction.

The feeling of skates strapped skin-tight around my feet as I glided across the ice; the sound of music intermingling with the audience’s cheers that echoed across the stadium; the crisp breeze that caressed my thighs as I raced down the rink. Approaching the rink’s railing, I swiftly turned around and propelled myself into the air, landing a flawless quadruple salchow. Those watching in the stands screamed praise and vigorously clapped, nearly losing their minds when I followed the spin with a triple toe loop. A soft smile tugged at the tips of my lips at the sound of their cheers.

I was the center of everyone’s attention, including Silas Yoon.

He stood next to his coach at the rink’s entrance, intently following my figure as it glided across the ice. He was probably counting the points I’ve earned so far in his mind, losing composure with each step I made because the number was so high. Typically at competitions, Silas is the only threat between first place belonging to me. Today wasn’t typical, however.

Today, I win.

As the soundtrack came to an end, I mustered every ounce of energy within me into the remaining performance. The blades beneath my feet swiveled sharply as I leaped into yet another quadruple combination, landing it as though it were effortless. My thighs stung from overuse, but I refused to let the pain hinder my movements. Spreading my arms to either side of my body, I lowered myself onto the ice and balanced my weight onto one foot, hydroblading to the middle of the floor.

The excruciating pain in my muscles fueled me to finish strong. I glided towards the middle of the rink and began to spin in place at high speeds. The second the song ended, I ceased moving and reached out to the judges with a proud smile that concealed my aches and pains. Commentators praised my performance through the speakers as the audience cheered, and I could already feel the weight of a gold medal looped around my neck.

First place belonged to me.

“Not a bad performance,” Silas commented as I exited the rink. “I think silver will look nice on you.”

“Fuck off, Yoon,” I retaliated sharply. “I’d like to see you try and take first from me.”

“I see you’re still as sassy as ever.” He smirked at my scowl while removing the guards from his skates. “You may have won last year, but don’t get so full of yourself. I’ll show you who’s first, so keep your eyes on me, alright?”

“As if I’d watch you.”

“I know you will.” Stepping onto the ice, Silas turned around once more to meet my gaze. “Don’t hate me too much after this.”

“Fucking hell...” I muttered. “I already do hate you!” Clicking my tongue out of annoyance, I then turned around to meet Belva’s gaze - my figure skating coach of six years. She stood several feet away with crossed arms and an arched brow, clearly displeased and reasonably so.

“Do you want to get kicked out of the competition?” Belva asked. “This isn’t sectionals, Juliana; this is nationals. There are cameras here filming live, and if you get caught swearing and shouting at Silas, you’ll be disqualified for inappropriate behavior.”

I fell silent, averting my coach’s gaze. Belva relieved a heavy sigh, then closed the space between us with a gentle pat on the back. “Anyway, you did fantastic out there,” she praised. “Those were the best quads I’ve seen you land all year. I’m sure your father would have agreed too had he been here.”

“No, he would’ve told me to watch my expressions during the hydroblade.” Peering over my shoulder to see Silas rotating towards the middle of the rink, I knew it was almost showtime. “Where are our seats?” I asked urgently. “Silas’s program is about to start.”

Belva frowned, and I knew she wished I’d take more pride in my own performance than interest in Silas’s. Nevertheless, she guided me to the seats reserved for other national-qualifying figure skaters. The second I sat down, my eyes were glued to Silas’s velvet black costume painted over his skin, accented by deep shades of red and gold. A brief moment of silence fell upon the audience as he stood still, waiting for the music to begin.

And then, it started.

His domineer changed instantly as if a switch had flipped from cocky-asshole to charismatic-performer. Silas clapped his hands to the beat of the song while gliding across the rink, swooning the hearts of women with his charming smile, but I shriveled in repugnance at the choice of music. "‘The Stroke’ by Billy Squier?” I asked, repulsed yet unable to look away. “Are you kidding me? This isn’t show skating.”

Despite the slander, my eyes remained hooked on Silas’s figure, observing his facial expressions and footwork. It was a tacky song to skate to at nationals—that was a fact—but regardless, he oozed confidence. I watched as he moved from one end of the rink to the other, preparing for a jump I could only assume would be a quadruple lutz. The flame of jealousy set fire to my competitive nature as I prayed for his failure to land. However, I was proven wrong the second he turned around, propelling himself into the air forwards, and landing a flawless quadruple axel.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted, taking a stand from my seat and immediately feeling Belva pull me back down. “When did he learn to do that?”

“Calm down...”

“Did you not see what just happened?”

“I did.”

Belva wore a conflicted expression, well-aware that mere jump might’ve granted him the first place medal. I anxiously took my bottom lip between my teeth, watching as Silas came around to the side of the rink I sat on. He leaped into yet another quadruple jump followed by a triple axel. The moment his blades touched the ice, Silas met my gaze with a faint smirk. I could practically hear him say those dreadful words—

“Don’t hate me too much after this.”

“Monday morning at our next practice session, you’re teaching me the quadruple axel,” I demanded, gripping the hem of my dress to keep from lashing out. The thought of Silas doing something I couldn’t was unacceptable; I had to at least do everything he could. Even though women in figure skating were far from perfecting quadruple jumps, specifically the axel, I had to make it happen. If I wasn’t at the top of the competition, then what was the point?

After impressing the judges with his ungodly stamina and flawless jumps, Silas focused on transitional movements. It was odd to bring down the hype given this was nationals, the prerequisite to the upcoming winter Olympics. His performance last winter at the local competition involved four quadruple jumps; there was no way he’d let a local tournament outshine nationals. “He’s planning something,” I whispered quietly, admittingly anxious.

His smile faded as he circled around the arena, focusing on his form with outstretched arms and slightly bent knees. My eyes narrowed in on his face, taking note of his deep breaths and stoic expression. As the chorus of the song approached, Silas swiftly turned around and leaped into the air forwards. Immediately, I began to count his rotations: 1, 2, 3, 4...

5.

The blades beneath his feet hit the ice with a hiss as he exhaled his breath; silence engulfing the arena as ice-skating enthusiasts took a second to process what just happened. “I can’t believe it...” I whispered breathlessly. Before Belva had a chance to speak, the crowd around the two of us erupted into a fit of cheer. Judges smiled proudly as if they were spectating their own children, unable to believe history was just made.

Silas performed the world’s first quintuple in ice-skating history.

A pang of realization hit me as I realized I had lost. There was no way I could compete with someone who not only performed the same type of jumps I had, but also a quintuple—a move that skaters and critics were contemplating was even possible. I was familiar with competitions and the feelings of rivalry and comparison they bring; however, I wasn’t familiar with losing.

And this time, I lost.

By a lot.

Belva glanced my direction, expecting to see steam coming from my ears as rage boiled within me. Instead, I just sat there. The music from Silas’s performance was drowned by my thoughts as flashes of my future and father passed through my mind. Does this mean I would always place second? Am I even physically capable of meeting his level in skill? What is father going to do after he hears of Silas’s performance? Is my career over?

The sound of whistles and praise interrupted my thoughts as Silas’s program came to an end. Judges stood up from their seats to applaud his show as fans threw flowers, stuffed toys, and pieces of clothing onto the rink as gifts for his success. Once his score was tallied, the final announcement of who came first, second, and third would begin. It was only a matter of minutes before I would experience the humiliation of succumbing to Silas’s taunting’s and placing beneath him.

“Juliana...” Belva trailed off, placing a hand on my shoulder for support. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I replied sharply, intently focused on Silas from afar. My hands began to tremble, unable to cope with the emotions of anger and loss that overwhelmed me. Belva swallowed hard, well aware of what was to come.

Belva and I stood near one of the rink entrances as the final announcement began. Three pedestals were in the middle of the rink with one of the judges holding the medals: bronze, silver, and gold. Silas stood next to his coach at the entrance opposite from where I was, and I couldn’t help but observe him from afar. Ever since his performance ended half an hour ago, the only thing plastered on his face was an award-winning smile. My nails gripped the railing as envy flooded through my veins. Silas knows which pedestal he belongs on, and what kills me the most is that I knows, too.

“It’s been hours, and I know we’re all tired after the excitement of this evening’s competition,” the judge announced throughout the stadium’s speakers. “Each and every competitor here deserves a medal, but only the top three who were flawless in their performance gets one. We’re proud to have such talent in our country, and I hope every one of you feels that, too. Without further ado, let’s award our competitors and bring this year’s nationals to an end.”

I exhaled deeply as he awarded the third-place contestant, a woman in her early thirties who was happy to receive a bronze medal for her final competition. As the judge looped the ribbon around her neck, I peered at Silas one last time, seeing his gaze was already planted on me. This time, instead of wearing an ear-to-ear smile, he smirked.

’Congratulations,′ he whispered from afar. A dark gleam overshadowed my gaze, but before I had a chance to respond, the judge announced my name throughout the arena.

“Juliana Viera.”

Belva gave me a soft pat on the back as she opened the entrance, gesturing for me to go out on the ice. A sharp pang struck my heart as I stepped onto the rink. ‘Why is it like this every time?’ I thought, gliding towards the judge with a hardened expression. ′Why the hell does Silas always manage to come out on top?′

As the judge looped the ribbon around my neck, I felt everything but satisfaction. The weight of the medal was nearly unbearable as I made my way to the second-place platform, standing upon it with nothing but shame. What did I have to be proud of anyway? It didn’t matter how many hours were spent perfecting quad jumps, or the number of bruises painting my backside from falling flat on the ice. It didn’t matter how much sleep was lost from practicing my performance into the early morning hours, or all the hard work and dedication put into my spins and combinations.

Nothing paid off because I wasn’t anywhere near as dazzling as—

“Silas Yoon,” the judge announced, flashing a warm smile to Silas as he glided across the ice to receive his medal. “Your performance was truly astounding, and I hope to see you competing in the Olympics this coming year. You’d make our nation proud.”

“Thank you,” Silas replied, lowering his head for the judge to loop the final ribbon around his neck. As he stood upon the first-place platform, I clenched my fists, hating the sight of his shadow towering over me. “What’s with that expression?” Silas asked while smiling charmingly at the cameras. Briefly looking down to meet my gaze, he chuckled at conflicted expression I wore. “Did you really think you were going to get first? I already told you, Juli, I was going to win this year. Don’t act as if you didn’t see it coming.”

That was the thing, though: I did see it coming.

The second he landed a quadruple axel, my confidence wavered. Once he made history with a quintuple, though, it was over. I knew I would place second, regardless of how much I hoped otherwise.

“For once, would you just be quiet...” I muttered, unable to bear his attitude any longer. Well aware of the consequences the following actions would bring, I kicked Silas’s skates from beneath his feet, sending him falling onto the ice. Photographers ceased taking photos as coaches and fans fell silent. “For once, would you just shut the fuck up?” I shouted once more, looming over Silas as he lied on the rink’s floor in shock. “You don’t deserve that medal just like you don’t deserve first place. Do me a favor and just end your career. You’re not going to get any better from here.”

Contrary to how I expected him to act, Silas used his foot to kick my skates from beneath my feet as well. I tumbled onto the ice next to him, and the two of us proceeded to brawl on the floor, hands entangled in each other’s hair as profanities echoed off the arena’s walls. The news crew got their men to record immediately as fans gasped, horrified yet intrigued by the drama. It was no secret Silas and I were not fond of one another. There were many clips on the internet of the two of us exchanging foul language after a performance, and some arenas even went as far to hire extra security in case something occurred. It was infamously known that neither of us got along.

However, this was unexpected.

“I’d like to see you try and land the jumps I can!” Silas shouted. “Actually, the only way you can is in your dreams because you’ll never be able to!”

“You think you’re all tough until it comes to doing something else that isn’t twirling around.”

“You’re such a bitch,” he seethed, then wincing in pain as I yanked on his hair. Right as things were taking a turn for the deep end, both Belva and Silas’s coach pulled the two of us apart. I met Silas’s eyes and opened my mouth to speak before being blinded by the flash of a hundred cameras. Looking around the rink, I saw photographers and news crews filming our every word and move. Although I was aware of the consequences my actions would bring prior to tripping him, I hadn’t experienced them yet. And now, here I was in front of nearly a thousand people with phones, cameras, and a filming team recording me.

Silas’s expression fell as he relieved a heavy sigh, well aware the two of us had possibly demolished everything we’ve ever worked towards.