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Like me and Frankie.
Romeo Costa:
For the millionth time, my sister-in-law is practically a child. Stay five feet away from her for the law.
Zach Sun:
And an extra ten feet for Jesus.
Ollie vB:
It’s a good thing my dick expands.
Romeo Costa left the chat.
Ollie vB:
Was it something I said?
Ollie vB:
Wait… @ZachSun, you back?
Ollie vB:
Hello?
“Lazits, Fae. Accuracy requires a clear mind and a cleansed soul.” A fencing mask blanketed Andras’ face. “You are inside your own head, and that is not a good place to be. Focus. Mérd fel a távolságot.”
Check your distance.
My Hungarian skills hovered somewhere above fetus and below toddler, but Andras repeated the same commands often enough that I’d memorized them all.
He swatted my calf with his sabre. “You are standing too far. You are showing me your weakness. I can smell it all the way from here.”
Each admonition sounded harsher in his formal, contraction-less way of speaking.
I only half-tracked his quick leg work as he completed a balestra, replaying yesterday’s showdown with Zach in my head.
His taunt bounced between my temples.
I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.
With my luck, the surprise would be worse than the punishment I’d barely escaped.
I backed away from Andras, nearly tripping on the piste as he launched himself at me.
“Retreat.” He trained the point of his sabre at my masked face. “How do you expect me to prepare you for the Olympics if you lose focus in such a simple training?”
I didn’t expect him to get me to the Olympics.
Not after I’d already tried once and blown it in the most spectacular fashion.
It would hurt less if I’d lost out on a roster spot due to my shortcomings as a fencer.
Nope. My demise was my own doing.
A part of me—a big part of me—knew I didn’t deserve a second chance after what I’d done.
