Milli

  The tall glass windows of the mansion catch the faint glow of the setting sun, reflecting soft streaks of gold and lavender across the marble floor. I’m still processing what just happened–one moment I was skating peacefully at the public rink, and the next, two elegantly dressed former skating champions had all but whisked me away in their sleek car.

  Allow me to recall the details. I’ve been swamped all afternoon with homework, after dinner my parents said that they were going on a date night, so they gave me the wonderful opportunity to skate at the public rink near the park. Of course I accepted, skating is one of my favorite things in the world. Gliding along, letting the ice propel me forward, without a care. Now, it was around 5:30pm I had my skates on, an orange sweater, and a light purse on my side. I stepped onto the ice and immediately my shoulders relaxed, my whole body felt rejuvenated, it’s as if all the weight I was carrying vanished. My body was fluid and I started to do a few tricks, spins, a couple leaps, and landed gliding in backward circles with my hands behind my head. Confidence was probably radiating off of me.

  Yet apparently my free time that was spent enjoying the chilly evening was a sign to two certain individuals who decided I was perfect for their son. An older couple, in their fifties strolled up to me, asking if I would like to be their son’s skating partner. Before I could even get a word out I found myself in their polished car, buckled in the back, my mouth hanging open in shock. Just absolute flabbergasted, who in their right mind strategically relocates a teen? Apparently to rich and famous people, the law against kidnapping is simply a suggestion.

  Now I stand inside their enormous home. The faint chill of the ice rink still clings to my clothes. The gate had an inscription which read, “FROSTVEIL MANSION, DO NOT TRESSPASS”. The mother’s voice cuts through the quiet, and I snap back to reality, “Jax! Come down dear, we have someone for you to meet!” It finally clicks. This is Jax Everhart. A famous ice skater, he’s 17 and I read about him on the news. He won the last skating tournament.

  I hear quick footsteps on the grand staircase, a tall boy descends; light brown hair glinting faintly under the chandelier, propping his hand on his hip in mild annoyance. He wears a black skating outfit underneath a lightweight jacket, the logo of a famous brand stitched at the collar.

  He stops a few steps above me, eyes narrowing slightly. His tone is cool, unimpressed. “So this is the person you want me to skate with?” He crosses his arms. “You’re joking, right?” A flat tone.

  His parents exchange a knowing smile but say nothing. I feel the tension in the air, as I stare blankly at him, as if I’m refusing to lose a staring contest.

  Jax sighs softly, stepping down the last stair until he’s standing right in front of me, aloof. He smells faintly of lavender and shampoo. “You don’t even look like a professional skater.” He mutters, “What’s your name anyway.”

  I consider blatantly lying about my name, but it doesn’t even matter much. “Milli.” I respond softly, with a steady gaze.

  He tilts his head slightly, eyes scanning me up and down in assessment. “Milli, huh?” He says it like he’s testing how it sounds, not rude exactly but not friendly either. “You don’t really look like the kind of person my parents would pick. No offense.”

  His mother chuckles softly from behind us, “Oh, you’ll see soon enough, dear. She’s remarkable on the ice. You two will make a stunning pair.”

  Jax lets out a faint sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, he looks as if he was about to blurt out but she’s short, yet he holds back. “We’ll see about that.” His sharp blue eyes lock on me again. “So, Milli, how long have you been ice skating?” He sounds half-interested, half-challenging as if he’s daring me to prove him wrong.

  “Long enough.” I reply with a snarky tone.

  His lips twitch, not quite a smile but almost. “Long enough huh?” He leans back slightly, hands sliding into his jacket pockets. “Confident answer. I’ll give you that.”

  His father steps forward, clapping his hands once. “Excellent! Then it’s settled. You two will begin training tomorrow morning. Jax, show Milli to the guest room, will you?”

  Jax groans softly, “You could’ve at least asked if she wanted to-”

  “Now, Jax.”

  His father's tone leaves no room for argument. Jax exhales through his nose and glances back at me gesturing toward the stairs, “Fine. Come on Milli.”

  He starts walking, his voice low as I follow him up the wide staircase lined with silver-framed photos of his parents in dazzling poses on the ice. “Guess you’re stuck here now,” he murmurs without looking back. “Hope you can keep up tomorrow."

  He stops at a door near the end of the hall and opens it. Inside it looks surprisingly cozy; soft lighting, a bed draped with ivory quilts and silver sheets, and a faint scent of lavender.

  “This’ll be your room,” he says quietly, stepping aside for me to walk through the doorway into the room. “If you need anything…the staff will probably get it faster than I would.”

  For a moment I could’ve sworn his tone softens, but only barely. Maybe I’m imagining things.

  “Training starts at six. Don’t be late.” He says dismissively before leaving.

  I set my bag on the floor by the bed and closed the door, looking around at the room again. There's a bedside nightstand, a window with cream curtains and a stunning view of the city, a dresser against the wall on the far right, with a purple flower crown on it, and a mirror hanging above the dresser.

  Sitting down on the bed I take out my phone and text my parents an obvious lie, at least until I know more. It’s only Friday, possibly I could survive the weekend here then make it back home to get ready for school? After crafting the reasonable excuse of hanging out with a friend for the night and following weekend, the text was sent. My foot taps the floor anxiously for about five minutes until I get a notification. My parents accepted the lie thankfully. Letting out a sigh of relief, I set my phone down, and pulled the covers over me, engulfing myself in the comforting downy of the bed.

  I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock, which I do not recall setting for 5:30 am, but I don’t seem to care. My eyes blink to adjust to the light and I silence my phone while processing where I am. Sitting up and yawning I realize I wasn’t in my bed. I glance around frantically before it dawns on me that I’m at the Frostveil Mansion, with some expectations to meet.

  On my way down the stairs I see a young maid, with dark brown curls of hair and brown eyes. She's a couple inches taller than me, and looks to be a year or two older than me. The maid gives a curtsy when I pass by, “Miss.” she nods, to me, as if addressing a princess.

  I tilt my head in confusion, stopping in my tracks, “Um…what?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “You’re the new Miss now. Mistress and Mister are the little star’s parents.” She responds with a soft smile.

  “Okay then…” I give a little nod and gesture to the second flight of stairs down, “I got places to be. Keep up the good work.”

  Making my way down the stairs, I wander around on the main floor, eyes darting around trying to find where the ice rink could be, because I’ve accepted that this is my life now. Yet I have a few tricks up my sleeve to ensure that I won’t be Jax’s skating partner for long. He doesn’t seem too arrogant or prideful—a plus—but he’s quite cold, and he’s a famous teen boy. He’s conventionally attractive, but not my type. I wouldn’t have accepted the offer, yet I was taken here before I could protest…it is what it is.

  I wander through multiple hallways getting lost twice, before finally ending up right outside the double doors, opening them up revealing a massive private skating rink below; smooth, glimmering ice under soft blue lighting. The temperature drops, my breath fogging slightly.

  I checked the time, 6:01. Barely late, should be fine right? Wrong. Stepping into the room was like stepping into a hurricane. I’m immediately bombarded with a chilly frost right in my face, when my vision finally clears, Jax is standing in front of me holding up a bowl of powder snow and a fan.

  “Seriously?” I say deadpan.

  He responds with a wide grin and raises his eyebrows. “You chose to be late. This is the consequence.”

  I place my palm on his face and shove, he stumbles back and immediately straightens up tossing the fan and the bowl to the side, brushing himself off. His expression is clearly irritated, but his shoulders are shaking slightly, it’s not that difficult to notice he’s suppressing a laugh. “Now, we gonna skate or what?” My tone is bored, as I slide my feet into ice skates.

  Jax is already on the ice, doing some warm ups, stretching. His posture is precise, and the movements are smooth and fluid. His eyes are narrowed in focus. He starts with slow glides, as he increases his laps, then basic turns, before waltz jumps.

  Finally I step onto the ice, a plan in mind to just subtly be an absolute beginner in ice skating, to convince Jax I’m not a good partner. My legs tremble as I hesitantly start gliding forward, my expression slightly worried.

  He pushes off and circles around me effortlessly, his movements sharp and precise. Every glide is smooth, confident and practiced to perfection. The air around him almost hums with cold energy as his skates slice cleanly through the ice.

  He stops just a few feet away, studying me with skeptical icy blue eyes. “If you’re pretending to be bad so I’ll go easy on you, that’s not gonna work,” he says, tone clipped. “My parents don’t waste time on beginners.”

  But there’s a flicker of something in his expression of curiosity, maybe. Or confusion. He tilts his head slightly. “...Or are you actually scared of falling?” I continue my facade of a beginner skater, yet retain some of my confidence still, so it isn’t too outlandish, since there’s no way his parents would’ve picked a complete beginner skater for their son.

  I wobble as the blade catches slightly on the ice, arms flailing for a second before managing to steady myself. The movement sends a small echo across the quiet rink, the sound of metal scraping ice.

  Jax reacts instinctively, he shifts forward half a step like he’s ready to catch me, but he stops himself almost immediately, crossing his arms again as if nothing happened. My eyebrows raise slightly, but they immediately revert back, so he won’t notice.

  “Tch…” he mutters under his breath, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re gonna break your neck at this rate.” He skates closer, stopping beside me. The cold air ruffles the hair on his neck, and his breath comes out in a faint mist. For a moment, his tone softens slightly.

  “Look…bend your knees a little more. Center your weight. If you lock your legs, you’re just asking to fall.” He demonstrates, gliding backward effortlessly and showing me how he shifts his weight, a move so fluid it almost looks like he’s floating. With a quick glance he adds, “Don’t overthink it. Just move.”

  He stops behind me, close enough that I can hear the faint scrape of his blades. “You think too much, you freeze up. Ice doesn’t wait for you to feel ready.” For a moment, his usual cocky tone fades. His reflection glimmers faintly on the slick ice beside mine, he’s actually watching my stance; my balance, my breathing like a real coach would.

  He straightens and crosses his arms again, putting the wall back up. “Try it again,” he says, voice brisk. “And this time, don’t think about it. Just skate.” I let out a sigh as I reluctantly followed his advice, though in a very novice manner.

  “Your demeanor changes quick.” I mutter under my breath, yet he still caught it. His eyes widened slightly and his pupils shrunk, but he smoothly covered it up and proceeded to skate past me.

  “It’s called being adaptable. Something you clearly need to learn.” His response is sharp and cold, clearly meant to hurt.

  Hours pass by of “training”, really just Jax performing and practicing, while I still act like a beginner skater yet an improving one. I don’t see the appeal of becoming a professional skater. Even though ice skating is one of my strongest passions–aside from acting–the costs of being famous for figure skating outweigh the benefits.

  “Twenty minute lunch break.” Jax calls out to me as he steps off the ice, and walks straight out the double doors, leaving me alone. My legs ache from all my previous efforts, yet that didn’t stop me from spending a few minutes doing a few grueling spins.

  My breath is heavy, and my stomach rumbles. I walk through the mansion retracing my steps to the kitchen. Without any permission, I grab a can of peaches from one of the many shelves, open it up and quickly consume it. Tossing the can into the trash bin before heading back to the ice rink, knowing it would be frowned upon if I’m late again.

  For dinner I find myself seated at a long table, next to Jax, while his parents are on the opposite side, facing us. A chandelier glimmers the center of the table, and within seconds maids come pouring in, holding dishes fit for a banquet. Each one sets the dish on the table before immediately leaving. This has to be the most lavish and awkward meal I’ve had in my life.

  “How’s training?” His father speaks up.

  “Excellent.” Jax responds, hands in his jacket pockets.

  “Isn’t she remarkable on ice?” His mother asks, clearly expecting him to agree.

  “Yes.” He says dismissively.

  While Jax and his parents are conversing about me—without including me—I sit quietly and awkwardly, unsure what to do. The food is now all laid out. Whole-grain dinner rolls with butter on the side, bowls of assorted nuts and sunflower seeds. Steamed broccoli, carrots, spinach, and corn. Mashed potatoes and gravy, sliced mangos, apricots, and pineapple, chicken alfredo, and soup. My stomach growls softly, which brings attention to my presence.

  “Ah. Dinner is ready.” Jax’s father says, as if we haven’t been sitting in front of the food for several minutes.

  I look at Jax, as if he’ll explain the unspoked rule for eating. Yet he does absolutely nothing except sit silently and staring off into space, while his parents look at me expectantly. “I…believe so…?” I say nervously, uncomfortable under their gaze. They nod, and proceed to serve themselves, Jax follows suit, and I just go along with it.

  The meal is scrumptious, everything appears to be a delicacy, made expertly by their chefs of course, as I hear the parents discuss amongst themselves about dinner and the chefs. I take a bite of the steamed vegetables, soft and tender, seasoned with salt. A satisfied smile creeps upon my lips. While I’m chewing Jax’s mom asks me a question that catches me off guard.

  “How’s Jax’s form? Is it suitable for your needs?” She says so casually, I nearly choke.

  “Mhm.” I nod, strained. “Perfect.”

  She doesn’t stop there, and continues inquiring, I continue giving one word answers, keeping it mostly vague. Whenever I don’t want to answer a question I deliberately take another bite of food, and she just moves on to the next. Seriously—how she comes up with rapid fire at will—I will never know.

  Once I’m finally given freedom, in reality just sent to the guest room for the night, I collapse on the bed with relief washing over me. Two more nights. I think to myself. Two more nights, then I can head back home. I scroll through my phone, figuring out what I will need to prepare for school Monday morning.

  The next day goes by quickly, the same motions. Training for most of the day, sent back to the guest room for the night. But since it’s Sunday, it’s the last day I plan on staying. I leave my purse on the bed, and sneak down to the ice rink. Checking around with slow ginger steps to make sure I won’t get caught. I pull my skates on and step onto the ice, doing a few warm ups before I execute more advanced tricks, double axels in perfect form, a camel spin, then a leap into backwards circles with my hands behind my head, my personal favorite to do on the ice.