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I could only assume how I looked. Cheeks flushed pink from being frozen just shy of frostbite. Lips set in a firm line. Hair dancingwith the wind.
Truly, Farrow had chosen the worst season to cure me.
So fucking cold.
The corridor bled into the arena, where thousands of people cheered from stadium seats. I would never find her in this crowd.
“Attention: the final match begins in three minutes.”
The words echoed from speakers in every corner. It came from a booth at the edge of the bleachers.
I marched over, snatched the mic from the horrified announcer, and paraded to the center of the piste, too determined to process any embarrassment.
I tapped the mic. “Farrow Ballantine?”
The buzz of the crowd lulled before picking up again.
A row of uniformed fencers halted a few feet away, staring at me through masks. One of them nudged another and pointed at me with the tip of a sword.
“Farrow.” I spun one-eighty, trying to spot her in the sea of faces. “Are you there?”
“The fuck are you doing?”
It came from a random dude in the stadium.
I worked a thumb over my jaw, speaking into the mic through gritted teeth. “The fuck I’m doing is trying to get my girl back.”
The crowd erupted in pandemonium.
Most hollered.
Some jeered.
And I’d officially run out of fucks to give.
“Good Lord, that man is fine.” A woman whistled. “Dress me up like an ice cream cone, and let me lick him.”
I’d become a laughingstock in the span of a minute, andfuck it. I didn’t want to extend an olive branch. I wanted to give Farrow Ballantine the whole damn tree.
“Farrow…” I pulled my shoulders back, gazing into the throngs of faceless people. “Our entire relationship has been a secret. Tucked in the dark alleys of our lives. No more. Whether you accept me or reject me, I am done pretending I’m not yours.”
“Hey, man.” Another damn heckler. “Where is your shoe?”
The entire audience laughed.
I carried on, ignoring them. “I spent my entire adult life living without actually living. You blazed into my life so unexpected. A breath of fresh air. You taught me how to move on, how to overcome my past, and how tolive. I cantouchagain.”
Someone catcalled.
More snickers.
Maybe I should’ve cared aboutrevealing my secret to the world, but I didn’t. Getting Farrow back mattered more.
“Just now, I drove five hours in the rain in a shitty rental, and I didn’t pull over, didn’t vomit, didn’t stop. That’s all you, Octi.” I pivoted, facing the other half of the crowd, covering my bases. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. That I didn’t make you my priority the minute I met you. You deserve so much more.”
I gripped the microphone harder. My vision blurred. I was running on approximately six hours of sleep, spread across four days. “Remember when you told me about theLobster Telephone? You were right. Everyone has a favorite work of art. You’re mine.”
Silence.
