Page 45 of Racing Hearts

“Thank you.”

“Well, today they’re not.”

“Do you want to just come out and ask instead of this prying thing you’re doing?”

Sofi snorts with mock indignation. “Prying. You are my best friend, you are contractually obligated to answer my questions. And I’m contractually obligated to ask you the questions everyone else is too intimidated to broach.”

The screen bounces as Sofi turns a corner. She’s walking the perimeter—the trail that laps the circumference of the training center. It’s one of my favorite morning jogs. I miss that place. I miss her. I’d give nearly anything to be jostling elbows with her right now instead of trying to carve out a corner of this kitchen to make a smoothie—one, by the way, that will be lacking at least six different ingredients I couldn’t afford to buy for the summer.

Still, there’s no point in giving up before I’ve even gotten started. So, I extract my mom’s ancient blender from the perch I assigned it and root around for the almond butter.

“You are going to have to tell me what happened, though,” Sofi says. “And don’t you dare insult us both with another vagary about your string of Skee-Ball victories.”

Despite myself, a smile flickers onto my lips.

“I SAW THAT!” Sofi pounces. “You tell me all about it right now, Katherine Parker, or you will sorely regret the consequences of my wrath.”

“You’re, like, five three.”

“I’m five four and a half and I could drop you like a pool noodle.”

That’s probably true. Even though I have four inches on her, Sofi has an Olympic bronze medal. And she’s scrappy.

“All right,” I say as I break a banana in half and drop the pieces into the blender. “So, we made this bet about the training program and raced for it on the ergs. I lost and, well, you know how I’d feel about that.” I’m still pissed, obviously, though the sting seems to have softened. “But there’s this really great game room in the basement. So, we played Skee-Ball, which I destroyed, obviously. He walked me home and—I’m talking about Adrian, by the way. Maybe I should have started there.”

“I CLEARLY KNOW WHO YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT.” Sofi pinches the bridge of her nose. “Rowing gods, give me strength. What happened?”

“We kissed.”

“And?”

“And nothing. We kissed. Now it’s over.”

“I knew that already on the basis of the fact that your lips are not currently attached to his. What was it like?”

“It was…nice.” That damn smile is back.

“I knew it.” The phone jerks and suddenly all I can see is blue sky and Sofi’s pumping fists. “I FREAKING KNEW IT.”

She hovers back into the screen and triumph blazes in her eyes. It’s the exact expression she had right after her boat crossed the finish line in Tokyo. Head back, eyes pointed skyward. I know because she has a picture of it framed above her bed.

Sofi raises the phone so her eyes nearly fill the screen. “I knew you and Citrus Dreamboat were perfect for each other. I literally made a bet with myself that you two would fall in love.”

“First of all, you can’t make a bet with yourself. And second, we are not falling in love. In fact, there will be no more kissing. This was strictly a one-time-only situation.”

“What? Why?”

I have about a trillion reasons, some of which I’m not even allowed to mention to Sofi. He’s my temporary coach. I’m supposed to be evaluating him for a job. And that’s not to mention how a relationship would negatively impact my performance. It was literally a relationship—and a breakup—that landed me in this mess in the first place.

With as much casual indifference as I can muster, I tip a scoop of protein powder into the blender. “I have to get second at Pan Ams.”

“So?”

Without my permission, my mind leaps back to the docks at World Cups. Maxwell’s patient face. My emotions spiraling out of control. My crushing defeat. “I lost control last night. I knew it was a bad idea and I kept going anyway. And now look what’s happened.”

“What’s happened?”

“I lost valuable recovery time.”