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“How can I help you?”
“I need to talk to Ethan.” I’m sweating and cold, my thighs gripping the porcelain.
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t—”
“Can you call my room?”
“Do you know your room number?”
I close my eyes, searching. The thoughts are all falling out; that information’s long gone. “Please.” My voice cracks. “Call Victor Lang’s room.”
Pause. “One moment, sir.”
Listening to a tinny rendition of Mozart, I slide onto the floor and pull my knees up, resting my forehead against them.
The door knob rattles. I want to scream.
“I gotta shit,” a girl’s voice complains, and I relax a little.
“Shit off the balcony.”
“Prick.”
A door shaking on its hinges, my heart in the back of my throat, choking me.
“Victor, open up.”
No.
But I always do. It doesn’t matter if the door has a lock; no doors are safe as long as I can open them from the inside.
Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice, shame on me. Hurt me a thousand times, I must have done something to deserve this. I was born wrong.
“Hello?”
Looking around, confused, I remember there’s a phone to my ear. His stupid motherfucking voice, dumb and uptight and warm and low…
“Come get me.”
Everything goes quiet for a second. I wonder what he’s doing up there. Eating room service? Talking to his mommy? Jerking off?
“Where are you?” He sounds worried.
For a second my stomach clenches like the drop of a roller coaster because I have no idea. “One sec.” I open the text from Katrina and read the address out loud. “Hurry up.”
“How am I supposed to find—”
“For two mil you’d better fucking figure it out.”
“I’m not your bitch,” he grouses. The contempt in his voice pours cool water on my overheating brain.
“If you say so.” I hang up so I don’t have to listen to him decide if he’s coming. My legs are shaking as I stand up and limp back to the living room to keep an eye on Alek, in case he changes his mind about calling Coach.
Fighting a trip hurts too much and finally I shut my eyes and let go, pretending it’s eight years ago, the night after I broke my own world record in the 200m butterfly. We all camped out in Alek’s room and got wasted and playedMario Kart. For a few hours, we were almost happy.
I don’t know how long it is before something touches my shoulder. I lash out, connecting with flesh. My vision comes back when I sit up and puke on the floor. Ethan’s standing there, bathed in purple light, holding his arm where I punched him.
“I didn’t think this would be your kind of thing,” Katrina teases, but he doesn’t pay any attention to her. He crouches down, avoiding the puke, and studies my eyes. His hand cradles the side of my face, breaking my rule. “I need to come down,” I croak, shivering as I push his arm away.
