Page 28

He stilled, and deliberately did not look over. He typed out something.

My phone vibrated.

Where?

Holy shit, he hadn’t said no.

There weren’t many places in the Village that were private. Would he come to my place? No, too risky. If someone saw him arriving or leaving, the whole drama of #RenCam would flare up again. We could meet by accident somewhere. But where?

One of the volunteers was handing out hand warmers, and the teams fussed with those little pockets of warmth, giving me time to think.

skate sharpening

There was a room at the back of the practice rink where skaters lined up to get their skates sharpened. It wasn’t all that busy, as most skaters had their blades sharpened before arriving in Sapporo.

He checked his phone. His thumbs moved.

What time?

It would have to be late, to maximize the chances of nobody seeing us.

9 tonight

“Who are you texting?” Jen asked.

“My folks.” I dropped my phone back into my pocket.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Ren check his phone, saw him smile too. Then felt my phone buzz. He’d said yes. I didn’t need to check the message to know it, his smile said it all. And he hadn’t looked over once.

Nine p.m. couldn’t come around fast enough.

I’d brought my skates so I had an excuse to be here, but there wasn’t anyone around, and even the guy who was supposed to be at the little window to take your skates wasn’t there. The hatch was closed. I’d obviously gotten the times wrong, and loitered alone, looking suspicious to anyone who happened to pass by. The place was quiet, immaculate, and brimming with colorful posters left over from when the Games weren’t on, advertising skate classes and events.

“It’s quiet.” Ren appeared from around a corner, walking fast.

“Yeah, I messed the times up. Sorry.”

“An easy mistake to make.”

“Should we uh . . . should we leave?”

He looked around, then crossed the waiting area, and tried the door handle for a side room. The door opened, he poked his head inside, flicked a light on, and waved me in.

The room didn’t have much. A window with the blinds drawn. A table, some stacked chairs. It was probably used as a temporary office.

I put my skate bag on the table. Ren closed the door.

I’d barely turned around to ask how his day was when his hand slipped around the back of my neck, and he drew me up into a warm kiss. I wasn’t slow to react this time. I dropped a hand to his lower back, sent the other into his hair, and kissed him like I’d ached to for the last nineteen months. A month apart would have been too long. Nineteen was cruel. But I had him now, and I was not messing this up.

I pulled him close, real close, but not close enough. He walked me back, hips bumping. My ass hit the table. Then he dropped both hands and scooped me up. I spread my knees, and he propped me on the desktop as I locked my legs around him and kissed him—messier, rougher. I wanted my hands on this man so badly that the ache had its own kind of heartbeat. He gasped away, and I went for his jaw, nipped at its line, then sucked under his chin, losing it over the rough brush of stubble against my lips.

Oh, god. This wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I’d never get enough of Ren.

I slowed, but only because he’d slowed too.

We clung to each other, breathing hard. Not kissing, just . . . holding, foreheads almost touching.

Maybe he’d stopped because this was insane. We were one door away from being discovered a few days before the opening ceremony. There was too much riding on this, too much happening. And now this? Neither of us needed the distraction right now, but we’d both come here. I couldn’t stay away.