history, huh?

And he hadn’t. After two years of skating together, they managed to qualify for the Olympics. Everyone knew it was going to be Frank’s last, and that it was his last chance to get that elusive gold medal. And Mel? She didn’t know how much longer she wanted to do this. She loved skating, and she felt close to her mother when she did it, but it was so hard, sometimes. When all was said and done, she’d be back with her sister, running the rink her family owned and teaching classes. So this was her chance to medal, too. For her and for her mom.

She’d never had a partner like Frank. He was labeled as the bad boy of the skating world, but what he had in attitude he made up for in artistry and skill. Only he never had that attitude with Mel. He was kind to her, gentle. He looked out for her in a way that Mel wasn’t used to, especially since she’d been abandoned by her previous partner.

Mel and Dennis had always skated well together, but they’d never dazzled anyone. Abbot always said that part of it was their chemistry—or lack thereof. They were cute together, aggressively sibling-like in a way that was hard to ignore. Abbot, as their coach, helped to pivot their routines to lean into that dynamic. Their scores got better, but people wanted to see romance on the ice. That was something that Mel and Dennis were never going to achieve.

So when Robby poached Dennis to skate with Trinity Santos (which Abbot grumbled about, not only because he and Robby were such good friends, but because he thought that Dennis and Trinity were going to run into the same problems that Mel and Dennis had), Mel knew that she had to think long and hard about her next steps. What Trinity lacked in artistry, she made up for in aggression and flashy, risky moves. Mel was a skilled and expressive skater, and she needed someone to not only match her, but push her out of her comfort zone a little.

That was when Abbot introduced her to Frank Langdon. Mel had never imagined that she would feel so comfortable with someone so new, someone who was, essentially, an unknown to her. The second he took her hand in his and wrapped an arm around her waist, something clicked. And based on the look on Abbot’s face after that first skate, they had something. 

Pairs skating was, at its core, an intimate sport. Hands had to fit in delicate places by pure necessity during some moves and elements. Mel had always been able to shut her mind off for most of it, knowing that it was just a thing she had to do.

When Frank touched her, though, it was… different.

Mel was so incredibly aware of his hands on her body. She was just aware of his hands in general: his broad palms, his long and tapered fingers. The veins on the back, traveling up his sculpted forearms. He was so sure and confident with those hands, able to lift Mel up and spin her around so securely, that for the first time ever, she wasn’t afraid that she was going to fall. Which was a silly thing to think, because the risk was always there, no matter how much she trusted her partner. With Frank, though, she didn’t worry as much.

That confidence and security must have translated to their routines. The photographers at competitions started snapping these photos that were… well, some called them intimate. Others called them scintillating. Some called them downright sexy.

Mel didn’t get it, at first. No one had ever called her sexy before. Not to mention, Frank’s hands were going in the same places that Dennis’s hands had. She truly didn’t think that just because she could feel a difference, it didn’t mean it would translate to a picture.

But then she saw one of the pictures. And she realized that it did.

The picture in question was from one of their first official competitions together. Mel was fully supported against Frank as she leaned back against him, and he had one hand splayed across her ribcage, thumb pressing to the curve of her breast. His other hand was on her thigh, fingers splayed to hold her steady. Their glide looked effortless, seamless. Like they were always meant to move together like this.

It was the look on their faces, though, that really did it. Mel’s eyes were closed (the photographer had done an excellent job of capturing the brief moment), completely trusting in Frank’s hold on her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, head thrown back. Frank’s eyes were trained on the side of her face, and the blue of his irises, normally bright and icy, had darkened. It looked like passion, almost.

Something in Mel had changed, after that. She didn’t think of herself as a femme fatale, or anything. But she did start having a little more confidence in herself. And she liked the way that Frank looked at her—even when it was just for the skating.

Pictures like that began to circulate all over the internet. Frank and Mel, looking at each other with those eyes, touching each other in that way. They kept to the party line whenever they were asked about it: they were just good friends, they had no time for romance with the amount of training they did, really, they were just skating. Still, there were countless TikToks and Instagram posts and tweets dissecting their every move. Their manager, Baran, implored them not to look. Mel took her advice.

They weren’t able to distance themselves from social media as much when they had to start doing press for the Olympics. Frank had done it twice before, but this was Mel’s first time. She was glad that she was getting to do it with Frank.

Their photographer was Parker Ellis, who’d gotten shots of them before. She was the one who published that very first picture, in fact, for ESPN. Mel sometimes missed cues, but even she could see what Team USA was trying to do. Based on the look on Frank’s face, he knew it, too.

“You guys think you’re subtle,” he said, his comment directed at Abbot and Baran. Parker snickered as she checked the settings on her camera, not bothering to hide her amusement. “But you’re not.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Baran said serenely. She pinned her curly hair up in a haphazard twist and gestured for Mel and Frank to step in front of the dark blue background. They were in their warmup suits for the first few pictures, posing next to each other, back to back, and with Frank’s arm around Mel’s shoulders. Those shots would be used on the official website.

It was the next few pictures that had Mel worried. It was one thing to do it all while skating. There was something about being on the ice, with her blades gliding across the smooth surface, that made it easier for Mel to open up. She wasn’t always the best at posing for pictures.

“Just relax,” Parker advised as she up the focus for the next shot. “Pretend like I’m not even here.”

Mel and Frank had removed their warmup suits and were in their outfits for their freestyle skate. Mel’s was almost completely backless, edged in that sheer, skin-colored material in strategic places so it was secure enough. She shivered a little, which of course Frank noticed.

“Can we turn the heat up in here?” he asked immediately, even though Mel knew that he ran hot and it would make him uncomfortable, at minimum.

“No, that’s not necessary—” Mel began to protest, but Frank put his hand between her shoulders and made a noise in the back of his throat. He ducked his head to look into her eyes, which Mel always loved.

“Yes, it is,” he insisted. “You’re cold.”

Parker snorted. “If you guys do what you always do on the ice, this really shouldn’t take that long.”

Shaking her hands out, Mel rolled her neck and took a few deep breaths. When she glanced over at Frank, she saw that he was watching her with what could only be called affection. He smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile back, feeling some of her nerves… well, they didn’t disappear entirely. But they did lessen.

“Just do a couple of those fancy holds,” Parker said with a wave of her hand as she crouched behind her camera. “Or whatever it is that you call them. Do whatever feels right. Okay?”

Frank made another noise and stepped around to face Mel, so that the camera was completely blocked from her view. “I’ve got you, okay?” he said, voice pitched low and meant only for her to hear.

Mel nodded her head, smiling when Frank quickly squeezed her hands. She wasn’t used to all of this—the press, the interviews, the silly little things they had to do for Instagram reels. Frank made it easier. So did the talking points that her sister, Becca, put together for her.

It was a little different to do it when they weren’t on the ice, but they had practiced like this before, with mats beneath him, usually. They did one pose, where Frank dipped Mel back, almost like they were dancing. Mel let her arms extend all the way to the floor, her chest open. Frank’s hands were warm and secure at her back. Mel knew that he was sore after their practices or routines often, but he never let on when they were skating together. He held her surely and moved her easily.

They took another shot with Mel’s legs wrapped around Frank’s waist, her arms looped around his shoulders, Frank’s arms extended as if they were actually skating. Another, with Mel balanced on the side of one foot, leaning towards Frank with one arm around his shoulders and her palm pressed to his face. Frank’s arm supported her at her waist, and he took most of her weight.

It was the last picture that was the most successful, though. Even Mel knew it. It wasn’t even anything particularly fancy—Mel and Frank were facing each other, Mel’s arms around Frank, his hands holding on to her biceps. His head was ducked down so he could press his forehead to Mel’s, and her eyes fluttered closed as their noses brushed together and they sort of just… breathed each other in.

Mel wasn’t even aware of the sound of the camera clicking. She vaguely heard Abbot say, “Alright, I think we got it,” and she heard Baran’s agreement. Even with that, Mel couldn’t find it within herself to move. She stayed right where she was, wrapped in Frank’s arms.

Frank didn’t release her, either. His forehead rolled against Mel’s a little, and he released her biceps, only to wrap his arms around her and pull her even closer, so that her body was pressed entirely to his.

“Are you ready to go?” Frank murmured.

Without opening her eyes, Mel knew that they were the only ones in the room. She liked that she was alone with Frank. She liked how good it felt. “No. Can we… can we just stay here for a little longer? Please?”

The ball started the same as all the others. All the women from the kingdom donned in their finest dresses, their mothers in even finer gowns, flittering around Prince Frank. He smiled dutifully as they spoke with him, politely asking the women to dance, while trying to ignore the thousands of eyes watching him. 

It was exhausting. 

They were hours into the ball when she appeared at the top of the stairs. No fanfare, no announcement, no escort.

Big hazel eyes taking in the ballroom, hands twisting together in front of her gown, and a curious smile on her face. She clearly wasn’t royalty—but there was something special about her. 

“May I have this dance?”

The woman startled. The moment she realized who he was, a blush spread furiously across her cheeks. She dropped into a clumsy curtsey. 

Her voice was lower than he expected, “I’m sure there are others who’ve been waiting to dance with you.”

“Perhaps,” Prince Frank’s lips quirked up. “But I want to dance with you.”

And they danced. One song into the next and the next. Prince Frank was taken by the naked joy on her face, how every emotion played across her face, and the way her hair shimmered in the candlelight. In between spins and dips, she gently asked questions about himself. 

But, as soon as he asked for her name, the mood shifted. She paled, hands dropping from his shoulders. With a stammered apology, she excused herself, hurrying towards the entrance and back into the night. 

Something shimmered on the staircase, pulling Prince Frank from his thoughts.