If that’s the case, though, Elliot almost certainly undoes any progress I’ve made by offering an explanation for Calvin’s Do Not Disturb comment that I was really hoping had gone unnoticed by the parents.
“Rebecca had the good idea to put out our Do Not Disturb sign out yesterday to make sure housekeeping didn’t come again,” he explains. “I had to re-sanitize the hotel room yesterday after they’d come through.”
“That is a very good idea, Rebecca,” says Mary. “I’m sure Elliot appreciates having one less thing to worry about, with the competition happening.”
“Today’s a big day, are you ready for it?” asks Elliot’s dad.
The guys launch into a discussion of what times they’ll need on the different events, mentioning all the variables for if other competitors make certain concessions with DNFs or flipped equators. Even for them the calculations and statistics have to be a challenge, with so many moving variables. It all goes right over my head. Math has never been my strongest subject.
The beeping of an alarm suddenly emanates from all the guys’ pockets.
“We need to get to the waiting area,” says Sebastian, adding my dishes to his tray before sliding my tray beneath his to carry to the dish drop-off.
As soon as we step into the hallway leading to the event space, we can feel the pre-competition tension ratchet up. Theparents all hug the guys goodbye and wish them luck before they break off for the competitor’s waiting area. I hesitate only briefly before also hugging them. Their parents certainly already know something is going on between me and their sons so there’s no point in trying to play the “we’re just friends, who don’t touch each other at all ever” card anymore, and this is a big moment for my guys. I want to make sure they know I’m here for them and support them, no matter what the outcome of this competition.
The audience room is a lot fuller today than it was yesterday, and we have to sit farther back than we did before to find a block of empty seats large enough for our group.
“Did all these people come just for these final rounds of these events?” I ask.
Without even looking around, Jen says, “No, these are just the competitors who are no longer in the running.”
Wow. I didn’t realize there were this many competitors here, but I suppose they’ve all been sitting back in the competitors waiting area and filtering in and out for their events. Now that I look around though, there are a lot of them mindlessly solving different types of cubes as they chat with neighbors and wait for the events to begin.
Our group is tense as the first event is announced. When Elliot takes the stage, I have to fight the urge to stand up so I can see better and make sure he knows I’m here for him.
The first scramble goes well, and I can tell Elliot is pleased with it by the way he runs his hands through his hair. The next two are also solid. Not splashy or record-breaking, but good enough times that it looks like he’s in the top. Like he’d discussed at length at dinner last night, it all depends on the scramble times his competitors put up.
Even though I have my book with me, I don’t open it once to read even a single page. I’m on the edge of my seat theentire time. A lot rides on these scrambles, and it would be so disappointing for the guys to not be able to go on to Worlds when they’ve worked so hard for this goal.
By the end of the competition, my back aches from leaning forward for so long. I don’t know how the guys are dealing with all of this stress. I can barely handle it sitting in the audience. But when it’s time for the awards, I’m one of the first to my feet to cheer for them. There’s so much excitement in the air, and the guys deserve every ounce of this celebration.
The guys do great in their individual events, each of them winning first place, but when they announce the winner of the relay, they come in second. I can see how much this stings, especially when Stephen gives them a smug smile as he steps forward to accept the first place medal for his relay team.
The guys handle it so much more calmly than I would. Stephen is such a little ass. Has he never heard of good sportsmanship? The other team barely won. The timers say only by a nanosecond, but I guess in this sport it really comes down to that tiny difference in time.
I can tell they’re disappointed in the outcome of this competition. Even taking first in their individual events isn’t enough to soothe the sting of losing in the team relay, which is the event they all care the most about.
Fuck, how much of this is my fault? Will they be mad at me for distracting them between events when they should have been getting their heads in the game? The thought hadn’t even occurred to me before now, and it really should have.
As soon as the awards are done, instead of going back into the competitor waiting area, the guys jump down from the front of the stage and come right down the aisle to us. All around us, the audience is chatting and moving toward the exit, so we move out into the aisle to let others out of our row and wait for the guys to reach us.
“Congratulations!” Their moms rush forward to hug them and share in their success.
I hang back and wait for my turn, even though I want to shove to the front and throw my arms around them. But I know I need to let their families come first. Not to mention, I’m still worried that maybe I’m the reason they weren’t as successful as they could have been. If I wasn’t here distracting them, would they have completed their scrambles in the two nanoseconds that would have led to them winning?
Lukas meets my eyes over his mom’s shoulder as they hug. In fact, all of their eyes are on me, waiting behind their parents. Their gazes are intense, but I can’t read their expressions to know if they’re thinking “later tonight, we are going to have amazing celebration sex” or “we lost because you distracted us, so later tonight we’re going to dump you.”
No, notdump. You can’t dump someone you’re not in a relationship with. But that doesn’t make the idea of them being done with me hurt any less.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get first for your relay,” I say when it’s finally my turn for a hug, and they all wrap around me at once. “At least you can still go to Worlds for your individual events.”
It feels so good to hold them after worrying about them up on stage all day. And there is no way I’m going to miss out on celebrating with them or comforting them after their loss, even if I did insist that we avoid any physical contact that could be construed by their parents as remotely sexual.
Besides, we’re friends. Friends hug each other when they win or lose a competition. And their parents were hugging them all. It would be weird if I was the only one not hugging them.
They all pull back at the same time, and I feel the sudden loss of their warmth keenly.
“Actually,” Sebastian corrects me, “because we podiumed, we’re still technically allowed to compete in the Worlds relay event.”
