Chapter 25: The Acception
The media scrum around Y/n was a dense, shouting thicket of microphones and cameras. Amber watched from the fence, Chloe still perched on her hip, as Y/n navigated the questions with a damp towel around her neck. She was breathing hard, sweat tracing the lines of her tattoos, but her grin was electric.
“Y/n! Over here! Who was this win for?” a reporter bellowed, thrusting a recorder forward.
Y/n’s coach, a grizzled man with a silver beard, clapped a hand on her shoulder. She leaned into the mic, her voice hoarse but clear. “This is for the USA, obviously. For my family right over there.” She pointed, and Marley wholed, making Chloe giggle. “For every kid who’s been told that being different means you’re worth less.” She paused, the grin softening into something more serious. “For everyone who had my back. The Blade Angels, my team… and,” her eyes lifted, finding Amber’s with unerring accuracy, “for my favorite female skater. Gotta represent for the grace department, right?”
The reporters buzzed, heads swiveling, trying to follow her gaze. Amber felt a hundred eyes brush over her. She didn’t shrink back. She held the stare, a faint, uncharacteristic smile touching her lips.
“Alright, that’s enough, she’s dripping on the equipment,” the coach barked, and on cue, a teammate dumped a half-melted bucket of ice water over Y/n’s head.
She gasped, sputtering, and shoved the guy playfully before breaking into a jog, leaving the chaos behind. She moved through the thinning crowd with the same focused energy she’d used on the slope, accepting back-slaps and congratulations with nods but not stopping.
She reached them, a force of damp heat and triumph. She hugged her brothers, kissed Marley’s cheek, and scooped Chloe from Amber’s arms, spinning her around. “You see that, bug? Your auntie’s officially a tourist attraction.”
“You went so fast!” Chloe shrieked.
Y/n set her down and turned. The space between her and Amber crackled, charged by the public dedication, by the shared look. Up close, Amber could see the fine tremor of exhaustion in Y/n’s muscles, the rapid pulse in her throat.
“You came,” Y/n said, quieter now, just for her.
“I said I would.”
“People say shit all the time.” Y/n’s green eyes were searching. “You’re different.”
Alysa and Isabeau hovered a few feet away, politely fascinated. The family chatter continued around them, a warm, oblivious bubble. Amber was aware of all of it, but it faded into a blur. All she could see was the raw, happy openness on Y/n’s face, the water droplets clinging to her eyelashes.
Y/n reached out, her calloused thumb brushing a stray strand of platinum hair from Amber’s cheek. The touch was fleeting, but it burned.
Then Y/n leaned in. It wasn’t a dramatic, sweeping motion. It was a question, a slight tilt of her head, her eyes dropping to Amber’s mouth. The world narrowed to the scent of snow, cold sweat, and cheap arena sunscreen.
Amber’s discipline, her years of calculated control, screamed at her to step back. This was public. This was messy. This was the opposite of every carefully curated image her coaches and parents had built.
She didn’t step back.
She met her halfway.
The kiss was chaste at first, just a soft press of lips, chilled from the mountain air. But then Y/n let out a small, shaky sigh against her mouth, and something in Amber unraveled. She kissed her back, properly, her hand coming up to cradle the back of Y/n’s damp neck. It was warm. Real. She could taste the metallic hint of adrenaline, feel the wild, celebrating beat of Y/n’s heart through her own sweater.
A chorus of “oohs” and a loud “get it, Auntie Y/n!” from one of the brothers broke them apart.
Amber pulled back, her face flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment. Her breath fogged between them. Y/n was looking at her like she’d just stuck another landing, awe and triumph mixed together.
“Okay,” Y/n breathed, her smile widening. “Okay.”
Chloe tugged on Y/n’s snowpants. “Are you guys dating now?”
Marley swooped in, lifting her daughter. “C’mon, let’s go find a hot chocolate the size of your head. Give the athletes a minute.” She shot Amber a wink over her shoulder as she herded the group toward the vendor stalls.
Suddenly, it was just the two of them in a pocket of quiet, the crowd flowing past like a river around a stone.
“I probably taste like electrolyte goo and panic,” Y/n said, running a hand through her hair.
“It’s not the worst flavor,” Amber said, and the casual, dry remark felt like a victory in itself.
Y/n laughed, a real, full-bodied sound. She looked down at their feet, then back up, her expression turning earnest. “The plane thing. Still on?”
Amber thought of her silent hotel room, the empty, spotless perfection of it. She thought of this noise, this family, this woman with rain in her hair and gold around her neck. The fear was still there, a cold knot in her stomach. But it was quieter now.
“Yeah,” Amber said. She nodded, more to herself than to Y/n. “It’s still on.”
Y/n reached down and took her hand. Her grip was firm, grounding. “Cool. Let’s get out of this wind before we freeze. I know a place that sells terrible fries and amazing beer.”
Amber let herself be led, their linked hands swinging slightly between them. She didn’t look back at the empty slope, or the departing crowd. She kept her eyes forward, on the neon signs of the village ahead, on the tall, easy stride of the woman beside her, and felt the precise, ordered ice within her begin, slowly, to thaw.