Page 50 of Back Outside Edge

There was nothing casual, nothing easy, about what just happened. To an observer, maybe it would look like it. Two guys so hot for each other they can't even make it the last few steps to a bed. But it was more than that.

To me, at least—was it for him?

And if not, how am I going to live with that?

But if so, how am I going to live with that? The future felt so far away only an hour ago, but now it's everything. Evan is everything. I'll go public, find a way to find time for him, anything, if he'll just stay with me.

Even if it costs me my redemption?

The question sobers me. Am I willing to give it all up? If that's what I have to do to keep him?

What would it mean? There would be public fallout, the media, fans. My parents and their reaction. The biases of the judges. What would competition look like? Would skating authorities have an issue with us dating? Are there fraternization rules?

They're all important questions, questions that each, on their own, could be enough to derail my biggest goal. Is it worth it?

Am I getting too far ahead of myself?

He hasn't answered. Fuck, he hasn't answered.

I shouldn't have asked. I've gone over-the-top. I won't need to answer any of those questions because I've scared him off before I've even really got him. I should know better. One hand job isn't a happily ever after in the making. What was I thinking?

"Stefan." His voice is hesitant, and I hate it. I hate everything about it.

Before he can continue, I'm up, off the floor, moving away from him. Gathering up my pants and trying to struggle into them. Stumbling as Tea almost trips me when she streaks by, jumping over them in some inexplicable race to my bedroom. I need a shield. Something, anything, to keep me away from the need that's coursing through me. Making me weak. Making me breakable. "It's ok. Never mind. Don't worry about it. I didn't mean to ask."

I'm halfway to my shirt before he responds. "Stefan, I—"

"Seriously, Evan. No big deal. We're having fun for a few days. We both know that. It's fine. It doesn't mean anything. I just got carried away for a second." I'm not sure how I'm going to make it through this visit now, though. Will I fall apart completely? Beg at his feet?

Once my shirt is on, I feel better. More protected, somehow. As if clothing is a barrier for my feelings. Stupid feelings. I hate feelings. That's why I try to avoid them.

Luckily, Georgia is still with us, staring judgmentally from the top of the stairs, so I start toward her, looking for an excuse, any excuse, to get further away.

Evan doesn't bother trying to dress. Once he's managed to untangle himself from his pants, he moves to me, and before I can scoop up my cat and flee, his hand is on my arm, holding me still. Holding me with him. "Stefan." This time his voice is firmer, and it calms me. A little. A very, very little.

"What?" My voice, on the other hand, is high. Shaky, even. As weak as I feel right now.

"We need to talk about this." His voice is filled with regret. He doesn't want to have the conversation any more than I do.

"We don't. It's fine. We both knew what we were getting into."

"Did we?" He starts petting my arm, as if he's trying to soothe a fucking horse or something. "We've never actually talked about it. Maybe we should have."

"There's nothing to talk about." I'm frantic, shaking. Why am I shaking? I need to be alone. I need to figure out how to get Evan away. Just for a few minutes. That's all I need.

Strong arms wrap around me, holding me tight against his warm body. "Stefan." His voice is next to my ear, calm, centering. "It's ok. You're ok. We'll figure this out, I promise."

I want to cry. That's ridiculous. I never cry. Well, ok, sometimes I cry. But not because of a boy. I cry because I skated poorly. Because I skated well. Because Evan skated the way Evan skates. But that's it. That's the only reason I cry. Skating.

Why does everything suddenly feel like the end of the world? "It's fine. I'm fine."

"I thought that was supposed to be a woman thing," he says, with a baffling hint of humor.

"What?" Crying? I didn't take Evan for a toxic masculinity type guy, but maybe I don't know him as well as I think I do.

"Saying you're fine when you're not." Oh. He's trying for levity. Trying to lighten the mood a little. That voice is his teasing voice.

It's not working. Am I capable of pretending it's working? I try to laugh, try to do something. Anything. But the sound I get out is a lot closer to a sob than a chuckle. Apparently not.