Shared Ice [1739] (BL between two short-track speed skaters)

We finished up dryland. I decided to hit the rink one more time before bed, national trials are coming up after all. The rink slightly dim and cold, the smell of space heaters lingering in the distance. This is home, what I‘ve learned to love about short track. 

As I'm lacing up to get on I see him stretching — Matěj Kovacs. The best skater that this development team offers, already perfect for our national team. He is built with a solid frame, perfect for the ice. Broad, strong shoulders, narrowing to the waist; even stronger legs holding him up. Sometimes I wonder how he trusts the ice to hold him up, the way he skates without effort. 

It was almost like I sensed him before he even came in. Matěj has the aura of a true athlete — magnetic, calm. I admire him a lot for it. 

As I stepped onto the ice, Matěj greeted me, “whats up.”

I lost my cool while smelling his cologne as he wafted by, “oh, hey!” I replied. 

He got on a little after I finished my ice warmup. He warms up with a quick lap, wooshing by carrying a layer of shaved ice with him in his wake. I love seeing him use all of his muscle to push into the corners, knowing when to switch from inside to outside edges. He was solid, but looked weightless and flowed like water on the ice. 

We decided to do some laps together. 7 laps, controlled, low. Cruising along the ice, feeling the glide of each turn. I could barely hear him behind me until I broke out and went wide. He instantly moved up right past my inside making a single slice into the ice, his shoulder brushed up against mine. 

I felt his warmth for just a second.

Getting off the ice his suit was zipped down. He was steaming, sweat soaked, strong forearms resting over his robust thighs. A contour of his full pecs and slight stomach showed, you could still tell he liked pasta Sundays. I glanced— not for long, not here. I couldn’t let him know how I truly felt. 

“Alex.” He said. 

“Yeah?” I replied, a little nervous — Caught off guard that he actually knew my name.  

“I know it's late, but if you’re not doing anything early tomorrow wanna grab a nightcap tonight?” he asked openly- like he already knew how I felt.

“Sure!” I said, trying to not sound too excited. We’d never engaged in a full conversation, let alone small talk. I had no idea what to expect. 

We talked for hours. Who knew we had so much in common other than short track?

We had a routine. Night training, then winding down together. We even started relaxing at each other's houses to save money. Something in me started feeling like he felt a similar way about me, but he could just be friendly. 

Matěj and I shared our relationship history. He pointed out that he never understood timing, messing up with his exes for moving too fast then moving not fast enough. He let out a sighful shrug, “If it works, it works. If it doesn't, it doesn't."

I took this in. I’m not sure why but I felt he was almost speaking to me directly. His philosophy scares me. I don’t do hints;  if that's what it was. If he decides like that, I feel I will mess up. Not just skating with him, but whatever this could become. 

One night he shared more about ourselves. That he prefers to eat before practice, where I avoid it like the plague. Where he comes from, and why Travis Scott is 80% of his playlist. Matěj learned that I prefer morning ice rather than night— which he couldn't wrap his head around. Why I can't live in a city, and where our favorite memories were made.

I loved learning about him after time, and learning that he is always alert, noticing everything. However, tonight, while watching the Daytona 500, he looked at me differently. A small glimmer in his eyes, soft. It felt like being hugged but with a single look. His soft brown eyes were more relaxed than usual. His brows and the faint eyebags from overtraining always reeled me in. After the race finished I looked over at him to return that look. He was out cold. I decided to head to bed and left him on my couch, not forgetting a blanket for him. 

The next morning he must’ve gotten up early, trials are in a month so it makes sense for him. Ice was at 7:00, he was already gone. I worried that I went too far with the blanket, or I made him uncomfortable with the silence we shared that night.

When I got to the rink, the wave of heat hit me. His cologne immediately followed.“Early morning, huh?” I asked Matěj, hoping that he still wanted to talk to me.

“HAHA, yeah! I was so worried I wouldn't make it to practice in time!” he replied sincerely. 

“Well, you definitely beat me to it” I said keeping our slightly competitive dynamic aligned. 

As we pushed onto the ice, the training and time Matěj and I spent together made us stronger. We are more in tune with each other's skating now. All without getting too close. He noticed my precision today. I was falling into the corner with no care like he always does, emulating the pros that we are turning into. 

Today the pack leader scrubbed his speed in front, causing a traffic jam. Matěj, behind me, put his hand on my lower back to slow himself down. He had never touched me before, even during our own practices. I have felt his warmth in passing, but this time it was him, physically. His strong hand, resting, just above my butt. I wanted him to lower his touch, but not here, not at practice. 

The touch didn’t stop there either, it followed. When doing dryland, he pushed my hip in physically. I followed his lead, pushing him lower when he wasn’t low enough. I wasn't expecting him to have such a delicate touch when coaching me, I wish I knew how to be softer with him. He even started joking that I have a tough coaching style, all because he fell once while I made sure his hip was in. 

We did a two man race for practice. Our weekly check in on who is faster. It was a 1000m, our most competitive race together. My sprint and his endurance against each other. I got out first on the start, slowed his pace down. He quickly overtook me cause he knew his legs would last longer. We held that formation for most of the race. Second last lap I hooked tight passing him and hit the turn with the utmost precision feeling my blades carve the ice just as they should. We got to the finish. He hit the same move on me coming out of the last turn. I wasn't expecting it. We had a very messy, arm flinging finish. 

I don't know who won. We were laughing as we slowed,  and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his waist feeling my head on his slightly soft stomach. Just as quickly, I pulled away and double tapped the other side of his waist. He gave me a wide-eyed look, not scared but happily confused. 

After a month and a half getting even closer we finally made it to national team trials, potentially for future Olympic spots. 

Since Matěj was always better at the longer distances and I favored the shorter ones. We dominated our favorite distances. Finally our thousand, final, together. Standing on that line next to him, it hit– this wasn't just skating anymore. This was the door opening, for both of us, at the same time. We crossed the line, 1-2, securing the national team. He’ll say he beat me but, I’ll remind him it was by two thousandths of a second. 

Our next stop? The World Tour, against the best in the world. Just two best friends that somehow made it here.

After our trials, we really got a good nightcap in. We went to a higher end bar than usual  and celebrated harder than we meant to. Louder. Longer. When we got back to his place it was dim, a single glowing orange light in his mudroom. He hugged me. A tight, loving hug, pushing his hips to mine. I felt him. For real this time. Matěj wrapped around my waist, I cupped his shoulder blades. With his face buried in my neck he mumbled, “We did it.” 

I wanted this moment to last forever. I knew he was drunk but this moment deserved to be held, forever, because maybe this was a sign. I fumbled around his house after I let my grasp loosen, clothes on his floor, making my way to the couch. Matěj sat down next to me, his arm reaching to lay across my stomach. There was a strange tension that I’ve never felt before with him. It felt as if his mind was running a million miles a second. Mine was. What was he doing, laying his arm across me like this? Am I getting the thing I’ve always wanted? Why do I need to be wasted when taking this in? It makes the moment not feel real. Then my dreams came true, he leaned in for a kiss. I put my hand up to his face and gently steered him away. Not like this, I couldn't build my dreams like this. 

“I think it's time I make my way home and you to bed.” I muttered, even though that's not what I wanted to do, but it was right. While carrying Matěj to his bed, he said something incoherent. I have a slight guess– but he was too drunk tonight. Especially to be confessing anything. 

After taking him to bed, I found my way home. It wasn't a long walk, since most of the athletes live within a few blocks of each other. The coldness sobered me up faster than I wanted. The empty streets, alcohol and emotional rush made my walk feel longer. I could still feel the weight of his arm across my stomach, his voice echoing long after I left his driveway.