She answers the video call on the second ring, and I feel the warmth spreading through my chest.
“Hey.” Her lips curl into a grin when her face appears on the screen. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair is in its usual braid, and she’s wearing her USA hoodie. Behind her? Pure chaos. Someone is screaming while someone else is singing off-key, and I’m pretty sure I hear a chair screeching across the hard floor repeatedly.
I grin, wanting to ask about what the hell was on the piece of paper she gave me, but I’m having a hard time hearing myself think with the noise hitting my phone speaker.
“Why does it sound like you’re in the middle of a frat house?”
She looks over her shoulder, trying and failing to hide a grin that has me smiling right along with her. I never see her like this, and it’s such a crazy turn of events after everything that’s happened. “Party at the winter house. Quarterfinal energy.”
Another cheer explodes behind her, and Rissa yells her name like she’s already got the gold medal around her neck. I watch Skye pretend she hates it.
“I never thought I’d hear your name and party in the same sentence.”
She tugs at the collar of her hoodie. “Don’t get used to it.”
I bite back a smile. “So, what happens now, Olympian?”
Her expression changes from amusement to something I can’t quite decipher. “Now, it gets crazy,” she sighs. “Media tomorrow. Practice. Film. We’rebasically on lockdown until the Quarterfinal games. If we make it past that…” She doesn’t finish, but I don’t need her to.
The world will be watching.
“I might be hard to reach,” she adds, softer. “Not because I want to be.”
“Skye! We need you,” Paige yells. I see her waving over Skye’s shoulder toward the phone. “Is that your boo or the hot nurse back home?”
My stomach drops, and Skye rubs her face. “I do not have a hot nurse back home.” She’s staring into the phone like she wants to make sure I hear her. And I believe her. I don’t know why, but I feel like she would be transparent enough to tell me she didn’t want to continue things if she was involved elsewhere. “Ignore Paige.”
I smile. “Already forgotten.” Then I clear my throat. “Boo, huh?”
She laughs. “I’ll call as soon as I get back to the hotel in an hour or so. It’ll be quieter with a better chance of me being able to hear you.” The corners of her mouth twitch as her eyes lock onto the camera. “And discuss that piece of paper I left in your hands earlier.”
My face goes sheet white, and I hear her bark a laugh, like she’s proud she was able to catch me off guard twice in the same day.
Not knowing what else to say, I give her a quick, “I’ll be up.” And as much as I hate to do it, I hang up the phone.
I’ve already changed pajamas twice, thankful that Cassie chose as many options as she did. I’ve paced, I’ve flopped dramatically across the bed like a lady-in-waiting. I’ve opened the minibar and closed it again because I refuse to pay fourteen euros for almonds in fancy wrapping.
I tell myself I’m calm.
I am not calm.
What is this piece of paper she gave me? Is it a joke? Or does she really want me to sit and fill this out?
I’ve read about this stuff in the books on my shelves back home. The BDSM lifestyle and sub/dom plots that make you take a cold shower after you’ve read them.
But I guess I didn’t know it was real. People actually live like this and do this for fun.
I walk to the counter and pick up the corner of the paper like it’s a crab that’s going to pinch me if my fingers touch too much of it.
Section 1: Dom’s Role
Section 2: Sub/Slave’s Role
Section 3: Safety and Safe Words
Section 4: Limits
Section 5: Agreement
