Corey laughed. “We gymnasts really know how to live.”
The celebration was definitely more subdued than it had been for the men’s team, but Jake suspected that this was in part because the men’s victory had been less… expected. The whole women’s team was here, clustered around a big table with smiles on their faces for their hour of permitted group social time, but the air didn’t feel quite as electric as it had the night before. Or maybe that was just Jake.
Jake and Corey were supposed to be sleeping in preparation for the all-around the next day, but most of the rest of the men’s team was here celebrating with the women, and Corey couldn’t resist a party.
“Okay,” Jake said. “We stay thirty minutes, we don’t drink anything more exciting than Diet Coke, and then we go to sleep so we can get up at the crack of dawn for Viktor’s crazy pre-meet training extravaganza.”
Corey raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to tempt fate and order a ginger ale. Let Viktor come for me. Also, don’t look now, but your man is at the bar.”
Jake slid his gaze toward the bar, where Topher was indeed sitting and chatting with the bartender. Jake tried not to feel jealous… and failed.
“Revised plan,” said Jake. “I go over and congratulate the women, then go to the bar to order a Diet Coke as a pretense to talk to Topher, and you be all charming and distract the women’s team so that no one notices I’m talking to him.”
“No problem. But, geez, Jake, live a little. Order a regular Coke.”
Jake walked over to the women’s table. All the women hugged Jake—he was a constant presence at the women’s training camp since he trained on the same equipment, so they’d all gotten to know him pretty well that spring—and he congratulated each in turn. But he’d done this dance before, and he could practically feel himself being pulled back toward the bar. When Corey arrived with a ginger ale in hand, Jake excused himself to go get a drink.
He sidled up to Topher at the bar and asked the bartender for a Diet Coke.
“Hello,” said Topher. “Of all the gin joints in the Olympic Village, you just had to walk into mine.”
Jake grinned. “I did say I’d try to meet you here.”
“And I heard you, which is why I am here.” Topher let out a breath. “In the meantime, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get more airtime talking about sports instead of Spanish architecture. Because I spent most of today being escorted around Madrid with an architect who used a lot of big words that I could not care less about learning.”
“Why would they have you do that?”
“TBC thinks that having athletes from the Winter Olympics who have their own fan bases doing feature stories to add color to their coverage will pull in new viewers. I’m trying to be game for anything and show I’m a team player so that TBC thinks I’m personable and easy to work with, but I’d much rather talk about sports than flying buttresses. So I thought maybe I could pitch a story, but I got nothing.”
“Gymnastics scoring?”
Topher laughed. “Half the commentary staff will shank me. That’s like bringing up the grassy knoll to a room full of conspiracy theorists. I dunno. I was just randomly Googling things to see if anything struck me as particularly interesting, but I can stop.” He gave Jake a once-over. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
Jake smiled. He took in the whole picture of Topher, from his high hair to his bow tie to his crazy shoes. “You still look cute at the end of the day.”
Topher laughed. “Thanks. Seriously, though.”
Jake slid onto the stool beside Topher. “I want twenty minutes of no gymnastics speak. Am I ready? Sure, as ready as I’ll ever be. Now let’s move on.”
“Okay. Deal.”
The bartender plopped a soda in front of Jake, so he took a gulp. Topher sipped from a martini glass. Jake said, “So, you want to be a skating commentator?”
“I do. I want a job where I put all of my extensive knowledge to good use. I can’t skate the way I used to anymore, but I can talk about skating all day. Plus, I’m told I have a, um, big personality.”
Jake laughed. “Is that a euphemism?”
Topher smirked. “Maybe.”
“Did you see anything interesting today?”
“I liked the Prado. They had an exhibit of El Greco paintings that was pretty spectacular. I like the sculptures too. All those burly men carved into marble.”
The bartender left a basket of fries between them. Topher looked up. “I didn’t order these.”
“On the house,” said the bartender with a wink. “They’re good for sharing.”
“Well, well,” Topher said when the bartender moved on. “I think he’s onto us.”
Jake reached over and took a fry. As he bit into it, he met Topher’s gaze. “So burly men. Is that what you’re into?”
“If you’re asking if I’m into you, I think I’ve made that abundantly clear.”
HAD TOPHER said that aloud?
Jake’s smile in response was radiant.
Topher wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to flirt with Jake, to touch him, to kiss him, to haul him off to the nearest private place and have his way with him. He sensed that Jake wanted the same. But with most of the gymnastics team sitting twenty feet away, he had to basically sit on his hands.
He wanted to honor the deal not to discuss gymnastics, though, so he said, “If you had the night off, what would you be doing?”
“You.”
Heat flooded Topher’s face. “I… no, really.”
“If I was home? Corey and I would probably go out somewhere.”
The spike of jealousy that went through Topher was fierce. He glanced at the gymnastics team, where Corey was gesticulating grandly while telling some story, probably. “You and Corey are….”
“What? No, no. Not what you’re thinking. Corey’s straight. He’s one of my best friends. He and I go out together when we have time. We’re kind of each other’s wingman. I’m not mad that you got jealous, though.”
“I’m not jealous,” Topher said, in a way that totally made him sound jealous.
Jake laughed. “Anyway, there are some bars in Houston we like. Every now and then Corey lets me drag him to a gay bar.”
“So if someone caught you with a guy, you’d be okay with it?”
Jake shrugged, but his face tightened up. It looked to Topher like he was, in theory, but would probably find the reality uncomfortable. Topher didn’t want to poke at that, so instead he said, “There are a couple of places near my apartment that I like, pretty much all of them gay bars. It’s weird, though. As you may have noticed, I stand out in a crowd a little.” Topher gestured to himself. “Which means I get recognized sometimes. That can be fun, but then they want to talk to me about figure skating, which inevitably turns back to ‘Sucks that you didn’t win a medal’ and then all my old wounds are just sliced right open.” Topher hadn’t meant to go that far, so he cleared his throat and added, “Not to be graphic.”
“I don’t get recognized really ever. I think the audience for men’s gymnastics is pretty narrow, especially since the American team hasn’t been so successful lately.”
Topher nodded. “I’m not sure which I’d prefer. I like the attention. I don’t like reliving my past failures.”
Jake gave Topher an appraising look. “Can I ask you a question about that, though?”
Topher’s heart squeezed. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he still hoped that maybe he could draw from his experience to help Jake in some way, so he said, “All right.”
“You don’t have to answer, but… what did you do the night before your long program?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve said, in both of your Olympic performances, you did well in the short program but fell in the long program. That’s… it’s a pattern I’m familiar with. Doing well in qualifiers but choking in the final. So I’m curious what you did to prepare for your final.”
“As a cautionary tale?”
“No. No, not at all. This is not a judgment on you! I just wondered.”
Topher took a deep breath. He was still bitter about his fate, and being at the Olympics certainly was making him remember it more acutely than he had in a while. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to go farming into his memories. But he said, “At the last Olympics, I practiced. There was a practice rink in the adjacent building of the main rink. I think short track was happening that night, so I couldn’t practice on the main ice. I thought that if I practiced my routine until I knew I could do it with no mistakes, I’d be fine going into the final. Then, once I’d worn myself out, I went back to the dorm and slept. Nothing exciting.”
“Viktor wants me at practice first thing in the morning. I’m supposed to be sleeping now. But, I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to try something different.”
That piqued Topher’s interest. “What did you have in mind?”
“Drinking soda and eating french fries with a guy I really like.” Jake smiled. “I really do have to get a good night’s sleep, but please know that if I wasn’t competing tomorrow, I would totally follow you back to your hotel.”
Topher nodded. He figured they’d make something happen after the all-around. Jake had a longer break before the event finals anyway.
“I just… I’m stressed,” Jake said. “There’s this churning in my stomach. I want that gold medal tomorrow more than I’ve ever wanted anything, and I know I can easily lose it. There are so many things that can go wrong, or that I can do wrong, and, I don’t know, I can almost feel it slipping out of my fingers already.”
Topher knew that feeling. But he didn’t want Jake to give in to it. “You haven’t lost it yet. Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet. You already have a medal, so you know you can do well when it matters. I know what it’s like to be in your position. You know what I would have told myself before my last long program if I could?”
Jake looked up and met Topher’s gaze. “What?”
“None of it matters. What your coaches want, what the public wants, what everyone expects of you…. What matters is you, your training, and your sport. Forget about what anyone else thinks. Just go out there, try your hardest, and do what you know you can do.”
Jake nodded. “Everything on the mats.”
“Exactly. Whatever magic you worked in the team final, do it again if you can.”
“Sure. But you’re not going to give me that speech about how one meet means nothing and I’ll still have my friends and family when it’s over, will you?”
“Nope. Because you know what? Losing sucks. Training your whole life and getting a shot at two Olympics is something so few other humans ever do, and when the gold medal is in your grasp but it slips from your hand? That’s… it’s the worst feeling—one of the biggest regrets of my life. But it’s also not the end of the world. And honestly? I got in my own head and I held back. I don’t think I did leave everything I had on the ice, and it eats at me.” Topher let out a sigh. “I bled and broke bones and tore ligaments for my sport. I’ve got scars on my legs, on my wrist here.” He pointed to the scar from the surgery to reset his broken wrist when he’d landed badly catching himself from a fall in practice. “If I had it to do over, I’d bleed and break bones and tear ligaments during the final if it meant I could have that medal. Will you win a gold medal tomorrow? Who knows? None of us have any control over that. But what you do have control of is what you do on the mats, whether you give the competition everything you have. So do that. Give it everything. And walk away with no regrets. That’s all you can do.”
Something on Jake’s face changed. His brow stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “I will,” Jake said. “Everything on the mats.”
“Good.”
“Thank you. I didn’t come here for a pep talk, though. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that you understand this experience. I’m so glad I have someone to talk to about it. But… I also really like you. I bet we’d have fun together in a non-Olympics setting.”
“Naked fun?” Topher raised an eyebrow.
Jake laughed. “Sure, but I meant generally. Do you like dancing?”
“I love to dance.”
“See? And you liked the Prado, so you probably like art museums generally?”
“The Metropolitan Museum of Art is my favorite place in New York City.”
Jake grinned. “Those are two of my favorite leisure activities. I’m not much of a party boy. I mean, I’ll go get a drink and dance with a stranger, but I’d much rather dance with someone I know and like.”
Topher leaned close. “Same.”
Jake leaned close as well. “I like naked fun too.”
“Babe. I love the way you think.”
“Unfortunately, I should probably make a show of returning to my teammates and then go get some sleep. Will you be able to watch me tomorrow?”
“I want to. I’ll shell out the money for a ticket if TBC won’t send me.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I’d love to see you do your thing on the mats again.”
“Do my thing?”
“You know.”
“You make gymnastics sound sexy.”
“Oh, honey. Gymnastics is sexy. Watching you… uh… do tricks? On the apparatuses? So sexy.”
“Good to know. I’ll file that away for later. But they’re called ‘skills.’”
“And I knew that. But you’re a little distracting.”
Jake picked up his soda glass and gave the basket of fries a rueful look. “I should get back.”
“No making out in the men’s room this time?”
Jake slid off the stool. “I would love to, but I’m trying not to arouse suspicion. See that over there? That is a whole table of spies. And the last thing I need is the ‘romance is distraction!’ lecture from my father.”
“Was that his accent?”
“Yeah. Soviet gymnast, remember?”
“Ah, yes.” Topher laughed. “We had different childhoods.”
“And anyway, I think a little distraction is a good thing. Maybe I’ll think about you tonight instead of release moves and tumbling passes.”
“Hey, whatever helps you. I’m glad to be of service.”
“And maybe I’ll service you in a different way after the all-around.”
Topher’s heart rate kicked up. “Please do. Actually, I have an idea. Follow me for a second.”
Topher had been at the America House for about forty minutes before Jake had arrived. It was a slow night since most of the fans were at events, so Topher had walked around and explored the place. He knew there was a patio out back with picnic tables and a couple of dart boards. The overhang above the patio also created some shadowy spots where people could not be seen unless someone else was outside. And as luck would have it, it was so hot out that the patio was deserted.
So Topher led Jake into a shady area and smiled. “We’re alone.”
“And yet outside. You’re not thinking….”
“Probably not what you’re thinking, but I did want to do this.”
Topher leaned in and pressed his lips against Jake’s. Jake giggled a little and pulled Topher further into the shadows, throwing his arms around Topher’s shoulders. Topher snaked his tongue into Jake’s mouth and put his hands on Jake’s waist. Jake groaned into Topher’s mouth, a sure sign that this could go too far, too quickly. Topher leaned away slightly.
“We’re trying not to get caught. ‘Romance is distraction,’ remember?” said Topher.
“You do a decent Russian accent.”
“I participated in a sport dominated by Russians. I’m serious, though.”
Jake sighed. “I know. I should get back inside. God, I like the way you kiss, though.” He touched his lips, which Topher found endearing.
“You’ve got a big day tomorrow. But seriously, any time you want to make out more, I’m game. Just tell me the time and the place.”
Jake grinned and stole one last kiss. “L
et me win that gold medal first.”
Chapter Twelve
Day 5
CHELSEA STARED doubtfully at some of the offerings at the buffet in the cafeteria.
“You have to eat,” said Jake.
“Fine. There’s just so much garbage on the menu here. You’d think having this many athletes in one place would inspire them to put in a juice bar instead of a fast food place.”
“Eggs and toast won’t kill you.”
Chelsea charmed one of the chefs into making her a breakfast sandwich while Jake stacked his plate high with breakfast meats and cheeses—not to mention the thinly sliced Iberico ham that was everywhere in Madrid, so salty and delicious. While he waited for Chelsea to sort out her breakfast, he found a table in the corner, surrounded by unoccupied tables. At this early hour, hardly anyone else sat in the cafeteria anyway.
Chelsea slid into the seat across from him after he’d eaten a couple of bites of his breakfast. She handed him a plate full of toast, probably realizing he needed to carb load even though toast wasn’t his favorite. Too bad nobody served spaghetti for breakfast.
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
“You feel ready for today?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Viktor wants me and Corey to report to the gym in about forty minutes, as though more practice time will make any kind of difference in our performance today.”
“It might help you warm up and shake off the nerves.”
Jake sighed. “Don’t take his side. Sleeping in could have helped too.”
“Just be thankful it’s Viktor and Alexei, not Dad. Did you see that tabloid story about how Dad, as the women’s coach, clearly favored me over the other gymnasts, and that’s why I was so good?”
Jake scoffed. “Whoever wrote that story has clearly never met Dad.” If anything, Valentin was harder on his daughter than any other gymnast on the American team. Although there were times that Jake was a little jealous of Chelsea for earning so much attention from their father, he was enormously glad Valentin wasn’t his coach.
“Anyway,” Chelsea said, “I’m thinking about doing that modified Cheng in the all-around.”
Stick the Landing Page 12
