Awwwww reese is changing u
Dante
Need my wits about me when I’m with her. Can’t risk fucking this up.
Besides, my liver’s probably begging for mercy after a decade of champagne.
Brooklyn
Is my baby brother actually growing up?
But seriously, you look…different. Good different.
Dante
I am.
Frankie
btw Amara left your precious yacht in my possession darling brother
might have 2 use it as collateral in a teensy tiny bet
this absolute TWAT thinks his pathetic excuse for driving can beat my lap time LMAOOO
Dante
…
If you lose my yacht, I want your Porsche 911 turbo.
Frankie
over my dead body x
The Bay Area fog creeps over the bay, blanketing the city from view in my Nob Hill apartment. My phone’s pressed to my ear as I survey my barely lived-in space, my sleek leather couch and carefully curated modern art collection. I’ve been home more in the last week than I have in years.
My laptop is open to two unread emails from Marcus going over Reese’s new stunt choreography. The one I’ve just read, however, is from Coach, delivering news I have no interest in hearing.
He answers on the second ring.
“What? It’s three in the morning here,” he grumbles. He’s at another tournament in Madrid this week.
“Just saw your email. What do you mean I can’t go to watch Em?”
“Committee, they make things very clear—you cannot be anywhere near a USFA event.” I imagine him rubbing that giant wrinkle on his forehead.
“It’s a goddamn high school tournament, not the fucking Olympics. It’s not even a big competition.”
My Olympic gold medal is buried beneath a mess of old receipts and loose change, untouched since May.
Since my suspension. Since they took everything from me.
“Da, but if anyone see you there, committee will make suspension permanent, no going back.”
This is stupid.
Em let it slip tonight that her parents aren’t coming to her first tournament in three weeks. I asked Coach to ask the organizers if I could go.
