Ilia Malinin 02

My first Olympic morning started off chaotically. Everyone suddenly wanted to know how I was living, how I was training, how much I was sleeping, and when I was eating. After all, I was representing our country, albeit unofficially, but everyone understood that I was Russian. So, having fought off all the pestering journalists, I rushed to the ice for my first practice on Olympic ice. No matter how much I said I wasn't nervous, not stressed, and that I came here to do my job, I still felt a little nervous. I sighed heavily before stepping out onto the ice, where thousands of people would once again be watching from the stands and on their phones. The practice wasn't going badly. The quadruple toe loop wasn't working, but I tried not to dwell on it and moved on to other jumps. As I was approaching my Axel, my gaze fell on the far corner of the arena. I almost flew off the Axel because I saw Petya Gumennik there, chatting with Ilya Malinin. It took my breath away! Stunned, I fell into the side of the arena without even attempting the jump, and Ilya noticed. He chuckled faintly and left the room, and I felt a strange twinge in my chest. It wasn't that I was trying to show off, but this wasn't how I'd imagined my first meeting with my idol. After a less-than-successful practice, I hurried back to my room, a place where I felt at least a little safe. I was walking down a hallway covered in the games' logos. It looked beautiful, so I tried to take in every detail, completely oblivious to the fact that I was running straight into Ilya. "Fuck!" Malinin cursed in pure English as I slammed him into the wall. "Sorry, I'm…" I tried to remember the entire school curriculum in broken English, my nerves making completely incoherent words pop into my head. "If you want to capture every moment of your shame, get out your camera," Ilya, unexpectedly, hissed rudely in Russian, walking around me. I didn't even realize what had happened at the time, so I only managed to shout after him, "It was an accident!"