Without acknowledging Christos, I take my leave. I grab the first high protein thing I can find and link back up with Terrence in our normal spot. His huge portion makes mine look even more depressing in comparison.
Terrence has the good courtesy to swallow his food before asking. “What Leroy want?”
“To be my plus one for the Olympics.”
He snorts. “Figures.”
“And he wanted me to meet Coach. Said we could work out a schedule so I can get practice in. Gave me his number.”
Terrence nods. “All of us on the team got his cell. Said if we ever needed anything to give him a call.”
I wonder how he saves the team’s names in his phone. Jersey number? Lots of guys have nicknames, to the point I’m not actually sure everyone’s legal name. What name am I under? Roderick, Rod, Future Olympian, that guy who figure skates?
Over my shoulder, I spot Leroy and Christos wrapping up their meal, walking shoulder to shoulder to the dish pit. He’s a good judge of character. Freshman year he clocked the guy I was hooking up with wasn’t serious about me, or any of the other guys he was fucking. He’d hop from campus to campus to string guys along. He also never had good things to say about Terrence’s freshman girlfriend.
To be honest I thought it was jealousy at first, this girl getting in the way of his bromance, but he was right. I don’t like calling women bitches out of principle, but if there was ever an exception…
I guess I can trust Christos. The same way he trusts me to keep what almost happened between us a secret. This awkwardness between us shouldn’t define our relationship going forward. I like the guy. In a completely bro way. A professional relationship. We’re both adults; we’re fully capable of that.
Hey Chris, What days and times you’ll be using the rink this week.
Practice is from 4 to 6 every day except Friday. We’ll be doing drills Monday and Tuesday but rest of the week is strength training if you want the rink.
Nice, that’s perfect.
Not sure when you like to train but mornings are free
All my classes are in the morning since my coaching sessions are in the afternoon.
Weekends I got to my home rink.
Smart. Well let me know if you need anything.
Likewise.
I deservea reward for not falling asleep in yoga. The stretches felt good, but the spa music and instructors breathy voice made it a whole new kind of endurance test. The beginner class was also way too easy. There were people squirming the moment they had to stand on one foot. Now I’m feeling a real challenge.
The sky is a soft shade of pink when I walk up to the rink. One short tug at the door tells me it’s locked, as expected, but worth a shot anyway. If I rush, I might be able to catch the last hour of open skating at the ice arena. That or I could grind it out in the gym.
I turn to leave and bump right into a firm chest. Christos looks down at me, bewildered.
“Sorry.”
“I bumped into you.”
He grins. “But I saw you first. Trying to get some practice in?”
I roll my shoulder carrying my skating bag. “Yeah.”
“Let me.” He slips past me and unlocks the rink, holding the door open for me.
I hesitate. “You really don’t have to.”
“I’ve got some paperwork. Lot easier to manage in my office. Come on.” His head bucks in the direction of the rink. Something tells me he can be stubborn. It would be a fight anyway, so I relent and step inside. “I can look into getting you a key.”
“Aren’t those reserved for faculty and facilities?”
“You’re a pretty special case.” We veer in differentdirections, Christos heading towards the stairs while I continue on to the rink. “I’ll see what I can do.”
