Christos is standing on the sidewalk with a pair of binoculars around his neck. I stare at him dumbfounded.
“I didn’t recognize you with the hair…”
If it wasn’t obvious that I was on the verge of tears, my breathy and broken voice does. “Where you—” I swallow, tasting salt in my mouth.
He looks up the length of the sidewalk. “There’s a trail not far from here. Supposed to be nicer in the spring, but I needed to clear my head.”
I nod, hoping the motion will shake the last of my tears away. “Did you see any good birds?”
He chuckles, putting one foot on the porch step but keeping his distance. “Lots of chickadees, nothing too exciting but it was a nice walk.” He takes another step, finally standing on the porch, blocking my exit.
“I told Terrence about us.”
He nods. “What did he say?”
“Shit, dude.” I sniffle. “Um, he’s actually weirdly supportive.”
“Jonas doesn’t believe me.”
That finally breaks the cloud of sadness hanging over me. “Why not?”
“Thinks you're too good for me.”
“He’s wrong.”
We stand there, in the cold, watching each other’s foggy breaths. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Finally he asks me, “Do you want to come inside?”
Epilogue
“That guy has been staringat the back of your head all night,” Marcus warns me. It’s the first of many parties in our senior year. I’m overdressed, wearing a vintage band tee, chunky rings, and chipped white nail polish. Every other guy, including Terrence, Leroy, and Marcus, are wearing some form of shorts. The party has settled on the lawn of Phi Rho, everyone enjoying the warm evening air before it gives way to fall.
I don’t bother to look the guy’s way. “Is he looking at me with passion?”
“Your ass does look good in those jeans,” Leroy points out.
“Round like gold medals.” Terrence adds, “Hey, when you wear them both, do they clap together?”
Some people consider the skating team even to be little more than a practice run, a chance for their favs to shake off their nerves, but honestly? I loved the team event. It was the first time I couldn’t rely on myself to get what I wanted. We supported each other, pushed each other, and in the end—won gold together.
Marcus looks right over my head, observing the freshman. “Youareprobably the first Olympian he’s seen in person. Can’t blame the guy.”
Terrence puts two fingers in his ear, talking into his red solo cup. “Mr. Steele, with such a daring and brave performance at the Olympics, how are you preparing for this upcoming season?” He shoves the solo cup in my face.
I lean in like it’s a real microphone. “I’ve been getting really into naps.”
So, I won gold. Skipped Worlds. Made bank with promos. Focused on school and friends. By the time I got my final scores, I already knew that a gold medal around my neck wasn’t going to quell my desire to be the best in skating. Especially when there was only a two point differential between me and Yessen. His silver was a well-deserved upset. In four years, I wouldn't be surprised if we swap spots on the next Olympic podium—but I'm not giving in that easily.
Marcus tilts his head. “Are you not competing this season?”
“No… I am…” I swirl my now warm beer. “But because I can, not because Ineedto.”
There are some desires that don’t make a whole lot of sense when put up to scrutiny. My relationship to skating is one such contradiction.
“I’m going to take advantage of traveling and catching up with other skaters. Plus Alex might come back.”
“She’s not afraid some Russian coach is going to poison her after she gave that tell all interview?” Leroy asks.
