A Good Show

Jaxon POV

Erin smiles at me, her hand slipping into mine. "Don't let Ryker get in your head. We're fine. We've done the move a lot; not once has it gone wrong." She reaches up and kisses me.

"Your hair," I whisper, capturing it in my hand. The black strands wrap around my fingers, and I tug gently.

"I forgot," she grabs a bobble and brush and begins to put it up. She doesn't look nervous at all, yet here I am, panicking that I'm going to drop her.

It's weird that people think the women should be more scared; she's the one at risk of being dropped. The one at risk of being seriously hurt. That's true, but we are the ones doing the lifting. We're just as scared as we hold their future in our hands. One wrong move, one mistimed step, and I could destroy her life.

She comes to stand back beside me, her black hair now tied up in a bun. Her blue eyes meet mine, and she squeezes my hand a final time.

I hear the announcer call out names, and Erin squeezes my hand once more like she's reassuring me it will all be fine as we step onto the ice. The cold air brushes against my face, but I focus on moving forward toward the center. The arena isn't silent, but everything beyond the rink fades. The only things that matter right now, are Erin and the ice. The routine that we've drilled into our bodies over and over again.

Taking our starting positions, we stand close, but not touching, our breath is visible in the chilled air. The music swells into the first more, and then we move as one.

Our blades cut effortlessly across the ice, and we're perfectly synchronized, we build speed with deep and controlled strokes. Erin's movements are fluid as always, her arms extending gracefully as we transition into our first element. A set of side-by-side twizzles. We snap into the first turn and rotate together at the exact same tempo, shifting edges without any hesitation.

The precision of this moment means everything, a single misstep now could send either of us off balance, but our rhythm is flawless. Three rotations later, and we exit clean, gliding effortlessly into the next sequence.

Taking her hand I feel the familiar steady pressure of her grip. We push into a series of crossovers, accelerating as we prepare for our first lift. She steps into my hold, and I guide her upward. I press her above my head in a perfect one-arm lift. My muscles tighten with the effort, but the movement is second nature.

Extending one leg into a split position, Erin reaches her arms outward, completely trusting me to keep her steady. The audience watches in complete silence, watching for any signs of struggle, or any small misstep. There's none, it's one of the easiest things we do. I lower her smoothly, and we flow into the next set of footwork without hesitation.

The routine comes to build, each movement is more intense than the last. A deep edge lean, a perfectly timed catch step. Our baldes cut precise patterns into the ice as we move seamlessly from one element to the next.

The connection between us is unshakable, and our bodies moves in harmony, every shift of weight is calculated down to the smallest degree.

Right now, the arena is silent except for the sound of our blades cutting into the ice, the tension building as we approach the most dangerous part of our routine. Erin gives me a steady smile, and now it's time for the Backward Outside Death Spiral.

We’ve done this a lot. We've gone over it, again and again. It should feel automatic by now, just another part of the program. It doesn’t though, it never does. Not when the margin for error is so small, not when one slip could mean Erin’s head colliding with the ice at full force.

I plant my pivot foot firmly and extend my free leg behind me, creating the anchor point she needs. Erin grips my hand as she shifts into position, her body beginning to tilt backward. The pull between us increases as she leans farther, her skates carving a tight arc around me. My core tightens as I hold steady, every muscle in my body is locked in place to keep us balanced.

She lowers herself deeper into the spiral, her back arching as her extended arm reaches outward. The crowd watches in anticipation, their collective breath held as her head inches closer to the ice. The strain in my grip is evident, the tension from the centrifugal force pressing against my arm. I have to keep my stance perfect, my pivot unwavering.

She’s at the lowest point now, her body nearly horizontal, her head a fraction above the surface. My heart pounds, but I don’t let it show. There’s no room for hesitation, no space for second-guessing. The moment I falter, even by a fraction, she could lose control, and I will have failed her in the worst way. She trusts me, so I focus, everything in my is fixed on this exact moment.

For a second, I feel the shift. It’s subtle, but I know Erin is pushing the edge of control. She’s holding the deepest possible lean, testing the limits of her balance, and for the briefest moment, I feel the weight of her body tip just a little too far.

I tighten my grip and adjust my stance, fighting against the force that wants to pull her down. My pivot remains solid, and I hold steady until she completes the final rotation. My back twinges but I force myself not react. As smoothly as possible, I guide her back up, my muscles straining to lift her weight without throwing off our rhythm. Her skates connect back to the ice in perfect alignment, and we flow straight into the final steps.

The last sequence carries us across the rink, our blades synchronized in powerful strokes. As the music reaches its peak, we hit our closing pose, Erin extending one leg behind her in a deep arabesque while I hold her steady with one hand at her waist.

The music ends and for a moment, there’s silence until the arena erupts into applause, the sound crashing around us.

My breathing is heavy, my grip on Erin’s hand is still firm. I don’t let go right away, and neither does she. We both knew what just happened. That moment where control almost slipped, where the entire routine could have ended in disaster. She glances up at me, blue eyes wide but steady.

I nod, just slightly, and she exhales in relief. We did it. Barely. But we did it.