JUST ONE BED

(ARIANNA'S POV)

Australia feels wrong.

Not in a bad way.

Just… unfamiliar.

The air is warmer than I expected, the sky too wide, too open—like there’s nowhere to hide. Everything feels exposed, like whatever secrets followed me here are just waiting for the right moment to surface.

I grip my suitcase tighter as we step out of the car.

“This is it,” Shakes says beside me.

I don’t respond.

My eyes are fixed on the hotel.

Tall. Glass. Too polished.

Too perfect.

The kind of place where everything looks clean on the surface—but underneath?

Rot.

Just like back home.

“Try not to look like you’re walking into your execution,” he mutters.

I shoot him a look. “Maybe I am.”

His expression shifts, just slightly.

“You’re not,” he says quietly.

I don’t answer.

Because neither of us believes that.

—

The lobby is buzzing with athletes, coaches, officials.

Laughter.

Conversations.

Normal.

It feels fake.

Like we’re the only ones carrying something heavy while everyone else just… exists.

Coach walks ahead of us, already talking to someone on the phone, his voice low and controlled.

I watch him carefully.

Every move.

Every glance.

Every shift in tone.

Because now I know.

Or at least… I know enough.

And I’m not going to be blind again.

“Stop staring,” Shakes murmurs under his breath.

“I’m observing.”

“You’re glaring.”

“Good.”

He almost smiles.

Almost.

—

We get our room keys ten minutes later.

Coach hands them out without even looking at us.

“You train in two hours,” he says flatly. “Don’t be late.”

I take the keycard from his hand, our fingers brushing for the briefest second.

My skin crawls.

I pull away immediately.

Shakes notices.

Of course he does.

He notices everything.

—

I don’t think anything of it until we get to the room.

Until I open the door.

Until I step inside—

And stop.

There’s one bed.

One.

Single.

Bed.

I blink.

Once.

Twice.

Nope.

Still one bed.

“Are you kidding me?” I breathe.

Behind me, Shakes leans against the doorframe, way too calm for someone who should be equally annoyed.

“Huh,” he says. “That’s… unfortunate.”

I turn to him slowly. “Unfortunate?”

“For you,” he adds.

My jaw tightens.

“You think I’m sharing a bed with you?”

“I think you don’t have a choice.”

I step further into the room, dropping my bag harder than necessary.

“I’m not doing it.”

“Then you can sleep on the floor.”

I spin back to him. “Why don’t you sleep on the floor?”

“Because I got here first.”

“You literally didn’t.”

“Details.”

I glare at him.

He just shrugs, completely unbothered.

God.

He’s insufferable.

And the worst part?

He knows it.

—

We don’t resolve it.

We just… avoid it.

Training comes first.

As always.

—

The rink here is bigger.

Brighter.

The ice smoother than anything we’ve trained on before.

It should feel like an advantage.

Instead, it feels like pressure.

“Again,” Coach says sharply.

We’ve been at this for over an hour.

My muscles ache.

My head is pounding.

But I push off anyway.

Because stopping isn’t an option.

Not here.

Not now.

Shakes catches my hand mid-spin, steadying me before I even realize I’m off balance.

“Careful,” he murmurs.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re distracted.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

I yank my hand from his. “Focus on yourself.”

“I am,” he says. “You’re part of the problem.”

I glare at him, but Coach’s voice cuts in again before I can respond.

“Less talking, more skating!”

We reset.

This time, when he lifts me—

I don’t resist.

My body moves with his, instinctively, automatically.

Like we were made to do this.

And for a moment—

Everything aligns.

The jump.

The spin.

The landing.

Perfect.

We finish, breathless.

Too close.

His hands still on my waist.

My fingers still curled into his shirt.

Neither of us moves.

Not immediately.

My heart is racing.

And I don’t know if it’s from the routine…

Or him.

His eyes drop to my lips.

My breath catches.

This is a mistake.

This is a huge mistake.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

But I don’t move away.

That’s the problem.

His voice is low. “Then step back.”

I don’t.

Seconds stretch.

Tension coils.

Then—

“Enough!”

Coach’s voice slices through the moment.

I jerk away like I’ve been burned.

Reality slams back in.

Right.

Him.

Everything.

I turn without a word and skate off.

But I can still feel it.

The almost.

The almost that shouldn’t have happened.

—

Back at the hotel, the problem is still waiting.

One bed.

One room.

One very bad idea.

I drop onto the edge of the mattress, staring at the floor.

“This is stupid,” I mutter.

“Agreed.”

I glance up.

Shakes is leaning against the wall now, arms crossed, watching me.

Too closely.

“Then fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix.”

“There’s always something to fix.”

“Not this.”

Silence settles between us.

Heavy.

Then—

“We’ll manage,” he says.

I scoff. “Yeah? How?”

He pushes off the wall, walking toward the bed slowly.

Too slowly.

My pulse picks up.

“By sleeping,” he says simply.

“Not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

He sits on the other side of the bed, close enough that I can feel the shift in the mattress.

Too close.

Everything about this is too close.

“You take that side,” he continues. “I take this one. We stay on our sides.”

“And if we don’t?”

His gaze meets mine.

Something darker flickers there.

“Then we deal with it.”

My stomach flips.

I hate that.

I hate that he can do that so easily.

I look away first.

“Fine.”

—

Night comes too quickly.

And not quickly enough.

I change in the bathroom, taking longer than necessary, trying to mentally prepare for… whatever this is.

When I step out—

He’s already in bed.

Of course he is.

Lying on his back, one arm behind his head, looking way too relaxed.

“Comfortable?” I mutter.

“Very.”

I roll my eyes and walk to the other side, sliding under the covers carefully.

As far from him as possible.

There’s space between us.

Not much.

But enough.

Or at least… it should be.

“Goodnight, Arianna,” he says softly.

I hesitate.

“…Goodnight.”

Silence.

Darkness.

The room settles.

I close my eyes.

Try to sleep.

But my mind won’t shut up.

Val.

The diary.

Coach.

The meeting tonight.

And him.

Always him.

Beside me.

Breathing steady.

Too close.

I shift slightly.

And my arm brushes his.

Electric.

I freeze.

He doesn’t move.

But his breathing changes.

Just slightly.

So he’s awake.

Great.

“Stop moving,” he murmurs.

“You’re the one taking up space.”

“I’m literally not moving.”

“Then stop existing so loudly.”

A quiet huff of amusement.

“Go to sleep, Arianna.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

I turn on my side, facing away from him.

This is torture.

Minutes pass.

Or maybe hours.

I don’t know.

At some point—

I drift.

—

And then—

I wake up.

Disoriented.

Warm.

Too warm.

My brow furrows.

That’s when I realize—

I’m not where I was before.

I’m closer.

Much closer.

My breath catches.

Because his arm is around me.

Not tight.

Not forceful.

Just… there.

Like it belongs there.

My heart starts pounding.

I should move.

I know I should.

But I don’t.

Because for the first time in what feels like forever…

I feel safe.

And I hate that it’s because of him.

I shift slightly.

His grip tightens.

Instinct.

Half-asleep.

His face is closer now.

Too close.

I can feel his breath.

Warm against my skin.

My pulse spikes.

This is dangerous.

This is—

“Arianna…” he murmurs, barely awake.

My name sounds different like that.

Softer.

Real.

I swallow hard.

“Shakes…”

His eyes open slowly.

And just like that—

Everything changes.

Awareness hits.

The position.

The closeness.

The tension.

Neither of us moves.

Not immediately.

His gaze drops to my lips again.

And this time—

I don’t tell him to stop.

The air shifts.

Heavy.

Charged.

My fingers tighten slightly against his shirt.

A mistake.

A very big mistake.

But I don’t let go.

His hand moves—

Just slightly—

Up my back.

Slow.

Careful.

Like he’s giving me time to pull away.

I don’t.

My breath catches.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.

I should.

I really should.

Every logical part of my brain is screaming at me to pull away, to put space between us, to remember everything—Val, the diary, Coach, the secrets swallowing us whole.

But none of that is louder than this moment.

Than him.

My fingers curl tighter into his shirt instead.

That’s my answer.

Something shifts in his eyes.

Not surprise.

Not victory.

Something… softer. More dangerous.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

And then—

He closes the distance.

The kiss isn’t rushed.

It isn’t desperate.

It’s careful.

Like he’s testing something fragile.

Like I’m something fragile.

His lips brush mine once—light, almost questioning.

My breath catches.

Everything inside me stills.

Then I lean in.

And that’s all it takes.

The kiss deepens—not wildly, not out of control—but enough to send heat rushing through me, enough to make my heart slam painfully against my ribs.

His hand slides further up my back, steady, grounding.

Like he’s making sure I’m still here.

Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

And for a second—

I forget everything.

I forget the lies.

The fear.

The weight sitting on my chest since I opened that diary.

There’s only this.

Only him.

Only the way my body responds without permission, without logic, without restraint.

I shift closer without realizing it.

A mistake.

A dangerous one.

Because the moment I do—

His grip tightens.

Just slightly.

Like he feels it too.

Like he’s holding on.

The kiss changes.

Not rough.

Not aggressive.

But deeper.

Warmer.

Real.

And God—

That’s worse.

Because this isn’t just physical.

It’s not just tension finally snapping.

It’s something else.

Something I don’t have time for.

Something I can’t afford.

My hand moves from his chest to his shoulder, steadying myself—but it only pulls me closer.

My pulse is racing.

Too fast.

Too loud.

I can feel it everywhere.

He pulls back just enough for our foreheads to rest together, both of us breathing harder now.

The space between us is barely anything.

“Still want me to stop?” he murmurs.

His voice is rougher now.

And that does something to me I don’t want to think about.

I shake my head before I can stop myself.

A mistake.

Another one.

His eyes search mine like he’s trying to understand something.

Or maybe trying to make sure this is real.

Because honestly?

I’m not sure it is either.

Then his thumb brushes lightly against my cheek.

Soft.

Unexpected.

And that—

That’s what breaks something in me.

Because this?

This isn’t just heat.

This isn’t just tension.

This is… care.

And that terrifies me more than anything.

“You’re going to regret this,” I whisper.

“Probably,” he says.

But he doesn’t move away.

Neither do I.

Instead, I close the distance again.

This time, there’s less hesitation.

Less thinking.

More feeling.

The kiss comes easier now.

Like we’ve already crossed the line, so what’s one more step?

Or ten.

My fingers slide into his shirt, gripping lightly, anchoring myself as everything inside me tilts.

His hand moves to my waist, pulling me just a little closer—

Not forcing.

Never forcing.

Always giving me space to stop.

And I don’t.

That’s the problem.

I don’t.

Time blurs.

Seconds.

Minutes.

I don’t know.

All I know is the heat, the closeness, the way everything feels too real and not real enough at the same time.

Until—

Reality crashes back in.

Hard.

Val.

Her handwriting.

Don’t trust him.

My body stiffens instantly.

Shakes notices.

Of course he does.

He pulls back slightly, his brows drawing together.

“What?”

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

“I—”

The words won’t come.

Because how do I explain this?

How do I explain that I want this—

But I don’t trust it?

That I want him—

But I don’t trust him?

“I can’t,” I say finally, my voice quieter now.

Not weak.

Just… honest.

Something shifts in his expression again.

Not anger.

Not frustration.

Something more controlled.

He nods once.

“Okay.”

And just like that—

He lets go.

No argument.

No pressure.

No trying to pull me back in.

And somehow…

That makes it worse.

I sit there for a second, trying to steady my breathing, trying to get my thoughts back in order.

But everything feels off now.

Unbalanced.

Because I felt something.

And I don’t know what to do with that.

“We still have tonight,” he says after a moment.

The reminder hits like cold water.

Right.

Midnight.

Back entrance.

The reason we’re really here.

I nod, forcing myself to focus.

“Yeah.”

But even as I say it—

I can still feel his touch.

Still taste the almost.

Still remember how easily I let myself fall into it.

And that scares me more than anything else.

Because if I can lose control that quickly—

Then I don’t know what happens next.

And with everything already falling apart around me…

That might be the most dangerous thing of all.