Stick the Landing

by Kate McMurray

  Topher smiled sheepishly. “When I retired and came out publicly, I kind of burst out of the closet.” He shrugged and pulled at his feathery sleeves.

  “Hey, it’s all good. You should never have to tamp down who you are.”

  Topher smiled and nodded. Then his face went serious again. “You compete in a sport that used to be dominated by Soviet Bloc countries, so you must see this. It’s changed, of course. A lot of judged sports have. The emphasis in gymnastics now, as I’ve seen over the last few days, is on strength and athleticism more than grace. Right? Your sister looks like a giant next to some of the Chinese gymnasts, even some of the Russians, who still prize being tiny and pretty over being strong. During podium training, I saw a gymnast fall doing a vault, and Natalie pointed out that she was too small and light to compress the springboard enough get the height she needed to complete the vault.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m on a tangent. My point is just that the sports have changed as other countries have started to dominate, and I think the American model of praising athleticism over beauty in skating and gymnastics is good because it changes the whole culture of the sport.”

  Jake was having trouble following Topher now, probably because he was crazy distracted by Topher being all sexy and fragrant. He swallowed and met Topher’s gaze, trying to seem casual. “Okay. But men’s sports have always been about strength and athleticism.”

  Topher held up a finger again. “Au contraire, my dear. I think men’s figure skating became that in the wake of accusations of it being a girly sport. So you have an Elvis Stojko, who wears leather on the ice and does a quad jump before anyone else. In some ways that’s good, because it pushes the sport forward. But in other ways, that’s bad, because it becomes the standard. And, look, I wanted to win, but my willowy ass was never going to be an Elvis Stojko. You know?”

  Jake shook his head. “I’m not sure I follow. Like, I get the gist of what you’re saying, and I understand it, but it’s just so… dumb. Classifying sports as masculine or feminine, I mean.”

  “Sure, but didn’t anyone in your school make fun of you for being a gymnast?”

  “I was homeschooled.” That was an oversimplified way of explaining the long series of tutors and private teachers Jake’s parents had hired to shove some learning into Jake and Chelsea’s heads between tumbling passes.

  Topher rolled his eyes. “Of course you were. You spent hours every day in the gym, didn’t you?”

  “I’ve been doing gymnastics so long, I can’t remember if it was my idea or my parents’.”

  Topher’s eyebrows shot up, but then he relaxed his face. “That’s something we can unpack later. But you have to admit, men’s gymnastics are about strength and athleticism. You don’t play music during floor exercise. You don’t spray your hair with glitter. It’s a wholly different sport from women’s gymnastics, from what I can tell. And yet gymnastics is traditionally seen as kind of a girly sport.”

  “I suppose.”

  Topher leaned forward a little. “Do you mean to tell me there’s no homophobia in gymnastics?”

  “No, not at all. I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it.” Jake had experienced some of the same overcompensating as Topher had described, although in gymnastics it tended to manifest itself in a lot of testosterone-shaded masculine grunting and yelling when the gymnasts failed or succeeded. And, well, it didn’t hurt that a lot of male gymnasts looked like weightlifters.

  “There you go.”

  Jake wrestled with whether he should come out to Topher. If it was worth mentioning. It wasn’t really a secret; it had just never come up in an interview.

  Instead he said, “My parents own a gym in Texas.”

  “Yeah, I know. Like I said, I’ve been reading up.”

  “Right.” And apparently Jake was going to tell this story as a way to do the exact kind of deflecting Topher had just been talking about. Too late, he was talking again. “So you know, we accept gymnastics students at all levels. We had this kid who joined an after-school beginner class. Matt was his name. He was maybe nine? And I knew as soon as he walked onto a mat that he was gay. He pinged the radar, I guess. And he loved gymnastics. I worked with him a little when I was recovering from an injury last year. He loved tumbling especially. His mother encouraged him, but his father, you could tell, wasn’t totally sold. What made matters worse is that the older brother of one of the female gymnasts would stand around and make fun of him.”

  “That’s awful,” said Topher.

  “Yeah. Apparently kids were teasing him at school too. He quit at the end of this school year. I’m still trying to talk him into coming back, but I think he feels too much shame. And I hate that. I never really had to deal with it, because look at who my parents are. I was either going to embrace or run away from gymnastics. Nadia Comaneci and Bart Connor have a son who is really into BMX biking, I heard.”

  “Yeah, I watched an interview with Nadia in which someone asked her if her son would do gymnastics, and she was like, ‘God, no.’”

  “Right. My parents had different opinions.”

  Topher took a sip of his martini. Jake was suddenly mesmerized by the bob of Topher’s Adam’s apple.

  “What were we talking about?” asked Topher.

  Jake laughed, hoping beyond hope that Topher was similarly distracted. “Uh, homophobia in our sports?”

  “Right. I dunno. I feel like we understand each other.”

  “Yeah. Maybe more than you think.”

  TOPHER CAUGHT sight of Natalie chatting with one of the swimmers across the room. He appreciated her keeping her distance while he talked to Jake, although it was sort of moot since it wasn’t like he and Jake would be hooking up.

  Jake was nice to talk to, though. His voice had a friendly lightness to it. And he seemed genuinely interested in what Topher had to say. He was breathtakingly gorgeous, even in a faded T-shirt and jeans. What would it feel like to be wrapped up in those arms? Topher had to curl his fingers into his hand to keep from reaching out to touch him.

  “So if all your friends are over in the corner, what made you come talk to me?” Topher asked.

  “I don’t know. I feel like…. So, I’m always awkward talking to media because I don’t love doing it, but I think during our interview the other day, we gained some understanding for each other. It’s rare for me to meet someone other than a gymnast who understands what my life is like. All the training. The long hours. The injuries. Did you ever have to do one of those interviews for a morning show where some reporter decided she could do your sport too?”

  Topher nodded vigorously. “Oh, yeah. What’s her face, the host of the TBC morning show? Before the last Olympics I competed in, she did a segment with me where she put on figure skates and said, ‘Okay, teach me how to do a jump,’ before we went on-air. She’d barely ever skated before.”

  “Yeah. I know who you’re talking about. She came to my parents’ gym and did a couple of cartwheels on the mat and declared herself a tumbling champion. I know she was joking, but there’s this assumption sometimes that what we do is easy or worthy of mocking, and it gets tiresome. Because it is so fucking hard.”

  “It really is.”

  “My point is, what do you even say to that? Like, ha ha, yeah, that was a swell cartwheel. I tore my ACL while learning a particularly tricky tumbling pass, but sure, that’s the same.”

  Topher smiled and wondered the real reason why Jake had come to talk to him. He liked the idea that they might become friends after all this was over. Well, what he really wanted was to push Jake against the nearest wall and have his way with him, but he knew better than to wish for such things. “Would you seriously be game for another interview? Not now. Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m happy to talk about any of this on camera. After the competition is over. I don’t want to jinx anything.”

  “No, I know. I understand that. You looked great today, though.”

  Jake sighed heavily. “Qualifiers
are usually not our issue. It’s not until the medals are on the line that we start to fuck up.”

  Topher let out a breath. “At the US Championships before my first Olympics, another skater crashed into me during the warm-up before the long program. I didn’t think I was injured, but it turned out that he’d nicked me with his skate. I was so high on adrenaline and nerves that I skated the long program and came in first, but when I got back to the locker room, I saw I had this huge gash on my leg and had bled into my boot. I ended up needing stitches.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Once I got home and the adrenaline wore off, it hurt like a mother. But I thought it was an omen. Like, okay, you won a US Championship with this injury. You can do anything. And I held on to that through the short program at the Olympics. Actually, the profile TBC did of me included footage of the injury and a couple of gory pictures of blood oozing out of the stitches. It was super gross.”

  Jake scrunched up his face. “So gross. Nobody needs to see that.”

  Topher laughed. “Well, the stitches came out right before I got on a plane for the Olympics and the injury was basically healed, but I rubbed the scar for luck before the short program. And I was in great position going into the long program to win a medal. But I don’t know…. Something about being the favorite was my undoing.”

  Jake frowned and nodded like he completely understood. “You choked.”

  “Yeah, I choked. Fell doing a jump I landed all the time. I got the yips.”

  “I know all about the yips,” Jake said. “I tripped over my own fucking feet on the floor at the World Championships one year.”

  “You can train yourself into being an elite athlete, but competition is mental. When I was younger, it was one thing. Finishing out of the medals at my first Olympics? It sucked, but I figured I had another shot. Finishing out of the medals at my second Olympics, when I knew my retirement was creeping up on me? It was….”

  “Heartbreaking.” Jake closed his eyes. “I’m already preparing myself.”

  “No, don’t do that.” Without thinking about it, Topher reached over and touched Jake’s shoulder. Jake leaned into the touch a little, so Topher left his hand there. “Listen, it was heartbreaking. That moment when I realized I’d never achieve my dream of winning a medal? I mean, I went back to my room and just sobbed. I thought my life was over. But the thing is, it wasn’t.” Topher dusted some invisible dust off Jake’s shoulder and lowered his arm. “I mean, it sucks, and I miss skating competitively with an ache I’ll probably never shake off, but life goes on. I’ve gotten to do a lot of fun things since retiring. I got to have a personal life that my training schedule never allowed for. Good things are ahead for you, I know it.”

  “I guess.”

  “Listen to me, Jake. My time is over. I’ll never have the opportunity to try for a medal again. But you do. And I know that winning a medal is easier said than done, but I saw what you could do today, and it’s within your reach.”

  Jake ducked and shook his head.

  “I know that me telling you that you can do this is meaningless. I know, okay? I know a hundred people and all your coaches and your parents and half the known universe telling you that you can do it is meaningless. I wish I had the answer for how you can get out of your own head and win that medal, but I don’t. I do know that you shouldn’t count yourself out yet, though. You’re amazing, Jake. I’m not just saying that. You did things today that defy laws of physics. Your team is well positioned to win the team final.”

  Jake pursed his lips. “Sure, the parts are all there….”

  “You have to believe you can do it, though.”

  “Did I tell you I talked to Isaac Flood?”

  “No.”

  Jake nodded. “Last night. I ran into him in a dorm lounge. His advice was basically to give it everything I have, to leave nothing on the table. So that’s what I’ll do in two days. I’ll give this competition every last bit of strength I have. I won’t pull my punches or second-guess myself. I’ll go for it. That’s all I can do. I think that even if we don’t win, if I can leave Madrid with no regrets, that will be enough.”

  Topher nodded. Right. No regrets. Topher had a lot of them, especially regarding his last Olympics. He wondered if things would have been different if someone had said something that hit him in just the right way before he approached the long program. Well, he couldn’t linger on it now, but he could try to help Jake. “Good. Do that. Leave everything you have on the ice. Er, mats.”

  Jake smiled. “I will.”

  Topher looked around the room. The conversation was getting heavy, and he wanted a segue out of it. A couple—Topher thought one or both of them were swimmers—was playing tongue hockey in one corner. The men’s gymnastics team was in another, although a couple of them stood as if they were getting ready to leave. Topher said, “Besides your family, you have anyone else here? Friends? A girlfriend?” He figured he might as well throw the fishing line out.

  “Oh, no. I don’t date a lot, which is probably obvious. And pretty much all of my friends are gymnasts too.”

  Topher looked at Jake’s pretty green eyes and his smooth skin and the way he filled out his clothes, and his hands itched to reach out and touch him, but he shoved them in his pockets—which probably looked silly in a pair of pants this tight—and put his focus back on the conversation. “That’s been one of my favorite things about retirement. I have other interests beside figure skating. I finally get to talk about them to other people.”

  Jake laughed. “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Cooking, for one thing. I’ve been playing around with some recipes. I might write a cookbook or something. I took a couple of classes because I wanted to be a better cook, but I really enjoy it. I also still eat really healthy. Lots of greens, lean proteins, moderate portions. But eating like an athlete doesn’t have to be just sustenance, you know? You can cook a really good, healthy meal that tastes amazing.” And one could cook for one’s gentlemen callers as a prelude to sex, although Topher didn’t dare say that aloud.

  “That’s awesome.”

  “Thanks. I even went on one of those competition shows on the Food Channel. They did a special celebrity episode, and I had to compete against a bunch of other athletes to cook the best three-course meal. I came in second.” Topher shrugged. That had been another one of those suggestions from his agent to get some good press so TBC would notice him, but it had been a lot of fun too. “Turns out that female boxer who won two gold medals also knows how to cook a steak perfectly. Who knew?”

  Jake laughed. He had a great laugh, bright and natural. Topher grinned in response. But he knew he couldn’t keep Jake here forever, no matter how much they enjoyed talking or how much Topher wanted to see if he could get away with more flirting. With great reluctance, he said, “Looks like your friends are leaving.”

  “Oh. I should probably get some sleep.”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to keep you.” Topher met Jake’s gaze again and thought maybe he saw something there, regret or sadness maybe, or else he was projecting. They stood only a few inches apart; it would be so easy to…. He coughed. “Uh, it was great talking to you. You still have my number, right?”

  “I do, yeah. I’ll text you, I promise. I’ve just been busy.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Competition and all. Qualifying for four event finals. No sweat, really.”

  Jake grinned and winked at Topher before he walked across the room to his friends. Topher was sorry to see him go. He figured it was probably time to call it a night rather than try to interpret that wink. He wasn’t feeling any of the alcohol he’d consumed anymore, but he did have to piss like a racehorse, so he walked in the direction of the men’s room, thanking Natalie on the way.

  America House had American-style restrooms—stalls instead of separate enclosures, urinals instead of a trough—which was kind of charming, so Topher closed himself in one of the stalls. He heard another man come in and use the urinal. As the guy washed
his hands, Topher emerged and was surprised to see Jake standing there at the sink.

  “Hello, again,” Topher said as he washed his hands.

  He looked up and met Jake’s gaze in the mirror. They stared at each other for a long moment. There was some kind of kinetic energy in the room, swirling around them, perhaps pushing them together, and Topher didn’t think it was all in his head.

  Jake leaned back and flipped the lock on the main restroom door. Topher was alarmed for a moment until he recognized the look in Jake’s eyes.

  Lust.

  Of all things.

  Topher swallowed.

  “I lied before, a little. I keep wrestling with myself about saying anything. But I’ll just put this out there. I’m crazy attracted to you. More so the more we spend time together.”

  That was a shock to Topher’s system. His heart pounded. He didn’t even know how to respond. He would, of course, take Jake in a heartbeat, but for Jake to actually say it?

  After opening and closing his mouth like a fish a few times, Topher managed to say, “Yeah? I… well. You are smoking hot. You must know that.”

  Jake smiled ruefully. “I don’t have time for anything right now. I have medals to win and I don’t want the distraction. But honestly? I’ve been thinking about you since the interview.”

  “Same.”

  Jake walked closer to Topher, closing the space between them. “Before we… I kind of just want to… I mean, tell me to stop if you—”

  “Good Lord, don’t you dare stop.”

  Their lips collided.

  Jake’s hands framed Topher’s face as he deepened the kiss. Topher snaked his tongue into Jake’s mouth. He tasted clean, and Topher savored that, enjoyed it. He loved the way his lips fit with Jake’s. This was a crazy dream come true.

  But he pulled back and said, “I’m not your first—”