Where Promises Must Glide

27 - Theo / Juliette

TW!!! MENTIONS OF EATING DISORDERS!
Please do not read if this is triggering. Your mental health is more important than anything else! just skip Juliette's part if you truly want to read it.

"Nora, can you hand me more of the alcohol pads," I yell from my section of the studio to one of the newer apprentices at Crosby's studio. I remember when I was an intern. I probably got about ten free tattoos done on me because I thought they would like me better. I guess it worked because now I'm in one of the biggest tattoo parlors in all of Virginia.

She ran over to me, giving me the pads. Nora was a scared girl, shaking at every command I gave her. It reminded me of how I felt around my father. But instead of ordering her to do 50 push ups at the most random hours of the night, I just ask her if she needs any help with her drawings or need a test dummy since my arm has been paper to random artists, and a four year old.

"My next appointment isn't for another half hour, if you want to go grab lunch with me?" And in that moment, Ophelia came waltzing into the room.

"And me!" She pipped up. Ophelia had just finished her nap, and came back from the bathroom, already demanding things.

"And Ophelia," I smile at the kid. "If you don't mind," I say turning to Nora.

She gave me a half turned smile. "Yeah, let me just grab my backpack."

I grabbed mine and Ophelia's coat, making sure to bundle the stubborn girl. It was a pink fluffy jacket, that she sometimes refused to wear. I'd have to bribe her, which is bad but I was never the most ethical person.

Nora came back, and we headed to the sandwich shop by the studio. It was New York style deli, with the owners being these Jewish people who moved here about ten years ago. This spot has turned into Ophelia and mines favorite quickly.

We all order, and I text Juliette to ask if she wants anything and I could drop it off for her. Sometimes, I'll have our lunch times line up, and bring her a smoothie bowl or something simple, and we'll have a mini date.

She has a couple more months till she goes to Paris, and I want to use as much time as possible to be around her. Even if a smoothie bowl isn't the romantic date I've had in mind, it's still a moment to see Juliette. To see her smile. Her laugh. Everything about her I love—which seems to be everything.

"So how long have you been working in tattoos?" Nora piped up, as I was busy helping Ophelia clean her face from the Mayo.

"Well professionally I was about eighteen, so your age. But I started drawing when I was super young, and bough a tattoo gun online and tattooed a bunch of dudes on the military base I grew up on," I tell her, and she laughed. I smiled at the memories, liking that I had a couple fond experiences there.

"And did your parents find out? One of the guys mentioned your dad was in the military," she questioned.

I grimaced, but pulled myself out of the bad memories. "My dad beat me to a pulp for a whole week after one of his friends said I tattooed their son."

She made an o shape with her lips, moving locks of her fiery red hair from her face. "That sucks," she whispered.

I shrugged. "It's a story, too late to fix the past."

She nodded, and ate the sandwich. Ophelia had her coloring pages, and Nora was a natural with kids, talking to Ophelia in a childish voice and asking about the drawings. I, sometimes forgot Ophelia was a four year old. But let's be honest, her movie selection still scares me.

"The guys said she's not your daughter," Nora whispered as if neither of us knew.

I mocked a shock expression, covering Ophelia's ears. "How dare you! Doesn't she look exactly like me and act like a brooding asshole!"

She laughed when she realizing I was joking. Ophelia still clueless. "They said it was your neighbors daughter that you nanny for."

"Damn, the guys really talk about everyone's business," I mutter.

She tensed. "I didn't mean it like that! If you don't want to talk about it you don't have too."

"Nora, calm down kid. Her mom is a professional ice skater, so she is always on the road. I fell in love with this kid and decided to just nanny her." I state. I've never really given an explanation about why I started nannying Ophelia. I truly love her, and Juliette.

I'm having a few old friends over tomorrow, and I'm working on the narrative I'm going to tell them that won't make them think I'm doing it to get into Juliette's pants.

And as I'm thinking, my phone buzzed. It was a call from Juliette. Her photo next to Ophelia at the birthday party flashed—my latest edition to her contact name.

I stepped out of range, but in view so I can watch Ophelia—make sure she doesn't get Nora in any trouble with her four year old manipulation powers.

"Hey princess," I answer.

"You gotta stop kidnapping Ophelia and taking her to random places. Because she's four and can't describe places so she just yells 'mama yellow place!' Until her meltdown ends." Juliette was always one for starting a conversation in an interesting direction. And I'd let her do it every time just to hear her voice.

I laughed. "Well darling, I will start sending you a list of the places and how Ophelia might describe them. Along with teaching her names of stuff."

Juliette giggled. " 'precciate it. So, I only get a five minute break, so I think I'll just eat the wheat pasta I packed, and just pick up a pizza for dinner on my way home to you."

God I loved when she said 'home' and somehow included me in the sentence.

"Sounds perfect. If you need anything call me. I only have one client today," I explain. I hear an understanding 'ok' before hanging up.

And when I returned, Ophelia was having Nora buying her a Goodfellas poster.

~~
Juliette:

I've been loving my time with Theo.

The mini dates, while he keeps teasing for an actual thing when our schedules clear. I'm hoping that the new Olympic coach will give me a day off on Saturday. Elliot, my skating partner, has a competition that day anyways, so maybe she'll give me a day off.

After practice, she told me to meet her in her office, and I was dreading this. It was stretch to even get this spot when some of the people I skate with are as young as 15—the same age I was when I made my first Olympic debut.

"Hey Connie!" I say, my kind posture has always been my greatest attribute it getting those to like me.

"Ah, Juliette," she says, pointing to the chair for me to sit. I really wanted to go home. My feet felt like they were going to fall off, and my knees were on fire from a faulty move I made earlier. I just wanted biofreeze and my massage gun.

"So I'm noticing that you have been gaining a few pounds," she points out, and I immediately suck in a breath. "You don't want Elliot to struggle carrying you. Could get docked points if he looks like he is struggling. You don't want to lose a gold for a few ten pounds, do you?"

I've heard these comments a thousand times. Ice skating, while dancing, when I did ballet. All of them mentioned my weight. I was relatively small, constantly working out and trying to eat healthy. But it was like I was either too small, too big, too tall, too short. I was never enough.

My eyes wanted to betray me with the pricks, but I took a sip out of my practically empty water bottle, to hopefully stop the tears.

"On it coach," I mutter.

She smiles, closing her spread sheet. "Good! Glad we are on the same page."

I nodded, made a little agreeing noise, before walking out. So that reward pizza I was going to order tonight is a no. It's ok, I had enough food today, I don't need more. She was right. I could eat whatever I wanted after the Olympics. This was my last time probably, and I couldn't lose it all for a few pounds.

And the cycle restarts.