Going for Gold

by Ivy Smoak

It wasn't "dance fighting" or whatever the hell I had called it. It wasn't part of the routine. He had been trying to stop it. And I was too stupid or too horny or too something to notice. He looked so upset. He looked so hurt.

  Bryce dropped my gaze and looked down at the ground.

  Oh God.

  All I could hear was this weird buzzing in my ears. I was numb to the cheers of the crowd. It felt like my heart had just broken into a million pieces. I needed air. I needed to not be standing on a stage in just a towel. And I couldn't look at Bryce being hurt. Knowing that it was my fault.

  I felt the tears start to run down my cheeks. I jumped off the medal podium and ran in the opposite direction of Bryce.

  I could have sworn I heard him yell my name. But clearly I didn't know his voice. Because Gabriela was right. I was a total slut.

  I turned down a hallway, trying not to break my ankles in my heels. I stopped for a second and pulled them off so I could run even faster. When I reached my dressing room, I threw open the door and locked it behind me. Luckily my stylists weren't there. They had probably been watching the performance too. Ugh.

  I immediately went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I felt so dirty after what I had done that all I wanted to do was take a shower. I imagined this was how it felt after a bad one night stand. But this wasn't dinner at Olive Garden followed by subpar sex with a selfish lover. This was a gangbang being broadcast around the world while Bryce got beat up trying to stop it from happening. Even though I could wash the cum out of my hair, I could never wash away what had happened.

  As I let my cum-soaked towel fall to the floor, I accidently caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Oh my God. I looked like such a whore. My eye makeup had run everywhere, there was cum splattered in my hair, my stockings had runs in them, and the lace on my garter belt had been torn from when Python grabbed it while he was fucking me in the ass.

  Fucking Python. My ass still felt weird from his enormous cock. Why did I ever agree to his stupid challenge? Doing the other guys was bad enough, but there was no excuse for what I did with Python. Could Bryce ever forgive me for that? I didn't think so. I wouldn't if I was him.

  More tears formed in my eyes and I looked away from the mirror. I couldn't look at myself. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to look at myself again.

  I stripped off my destroyed lingerie and got in the shower. The water was way hotter than it should have been, but I didn't adjust it. The hot water helped distract me from the shame of what I had just done. And maybe it would help sanitize my filthy body.

  I wasn't nearly done showering when I heard a loud knock on the door to the dressing room. Someone had been knocking earlier too, but I had ignored it. I wasn't ready to talk to anyone, not yet.

  Go away.

  Another knock. But this time, it was accompanied by someone with a Brazilian accent yelling, "Security, open up."

  Security? Shit! I had been so focused on how much I hurt Bryce that I hadn't even thought about the legal implications of what I had just done. I had probably violated a dozen laws on public decency, and now they were coming to arrest me. Will I spend the rest of my life in some Brazilian prison?

  "You have 5 seconds before we open the door ourselves," yelled the security guard.

  Shit, shit, shit! I have to get out of here! I jumped out of the shower and ran out into the dressing room.

  "Hold on," I said. "I'm not dressed." In a panic, I pushed the makeup chair under the door handle, threw on the clothes I had worn to the arena, and grabbed my purse. Thanks to my mini panic attack before the performance, I knew that the window in the bathroom was the perfect escape route. And I intended to make good use of it. Right before crawling out the window, I shoved my stupid gold medal in my purse and grabbed one of the luxurious towels to dry my hair on the go.

  I got a few curious looks from the locals as I lowered myself onto the sidewalk. Usually I would have been concerned that they'd think I was weird, but after what I had just done, people seeing me jump out of a window was the least of my worries.

  I ran a few blocks to put some distance between me and the security guards, and then I took a quick inventory of what I had in my purse. My cell phone, my wallet, some makeup, and most importantly, my passport. I wouldn't have usually carried it around, but it was required as photo ID in order to board the train from the athletes' village to center city Rio.

  While I waited for an Uber to arrive, I got on Expedia.com and searched for the next flight out of Rio. There was only one flight headed to the US with any empty seats left, and it was leaving in ninety minutes. Not nearly enough time to go back to the dorm and get my stuff. Kristen would have to just bring it home for me, if I ever went home. Assuming I made it out of Brazil without being arrested, which at this point seemed to have about a 50/50 chance of happening, I didn't think I could ever go home. I couldn't imagine how awkward it would be to see my parents. Actually, I could imagine it, and it was mortifying.

  ***

  My heart was pounding the entire time I was in the customs line. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but it seemed like there were way more police officers than was normal for an airport. It didn't really matter how many officers there were, though. I was always going to have to show my passport to one of them to get through the line.

  On top of that, I felt like I was walking funny from getting ass fucked. So even if they didn't recognize me, they'd probably stop me and do a full cavity search to find whatever drugs were hidden in my asshole. The good news was that Python had stretched me out so much that I probably wouldn't even feel it.

  I focused all my energy on walking like a normal person with no contraband in my ass as I approached the front of the line.

  The bored looking officer at the desk said something in Portuguese and waved me over to his desk. I tried to avoid eye contact as I handed him my passport.

  He flipped it and then held it up to compare me to the picture in the passport.

  "Do you have valuables with you worth more than 10,000 Real?"

  "No." At first I thought I didn't have anything with me at all, but then I realized I had my gold medal with me. "Well, actually..." Shit, will showing him my medal make him realize who I am? "Never mind. Nope. Nothing over 10,000 Real."

  He gave me a funny look and then stamped my passport and handed it back to me. "Here you go."

  I grabbed it and immediately walked away. I was just letting out a sigh of relief when the officer said, "Miss, wait." Another guard stepped in front of me and put his hand up.

  Oh shit. I'm being arrested. Will they have to read me my rights, or will they just throw me in a prison to rot? Maybe I'll get one call to the embassy...

  "You forgot this," said the officer.

  I turned around and saw that I had left my purse on the counter. "Oh, thanks," I muttered.

  "Are you okay?" asked the officer. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  "Yeah," said the other officer. "Unless you're a fugitive or a smuggler, Gustavo is just a big teddy bear."

  "Well I'm definitely not a smuggler," I said with a nervous laugh. "Or a fugitive. Nope. That's not me. I haven't done anything illegal at all. Nothing to fuge from." Fuge? That's not even a word! I turned to walk away and tripped over someone's luggage.

  By some miracle, the officers just helped me to my feet and let me pass. I immediately found a souvenir shop and bought a Brazil hoodie and a pair of the biggest aviator style sunglasses they had available. Once I was suitably disguised, I followed the signs to my terminal.

  Flight 786 - Nonstop to Miami - On Time - Boarding in 5 minutes.

  Five minutes. If I could avoid arrest for another five minutes, I'd be home free. I'd still have to face the horrors of what I had done, but that was better than facing the inside of a Brazilian prison.

  I glanced up at the TV to pass the time. It was the local Rio news, and the top story was of course about the ITA tiebreaker. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was to
o curious to see if they'd show my...performance. I was relieved when they just cut right to the medal ceremony. It didn't make it all worth it, not even close, but seeing Gabriela up on the silver medal podium looking so pissed did make me smile for a second. I had finally beaten her. Or had I? Sure, I had won gold. But at the same time, I had sacrificed everything I loved. I had lost Bryce, I had lost my dignity, and I could never speak to my Dad again, so I surely had lost the bakery. At best, it was a pyrrhic victory. At worst, it was the stupidest thing I had ever done.

  The report about the ITAs was interrupted for some breaking news about a local gangster shot dead at the Copacabana Palace. I looked away before they could show the picture of the guy. It was time to board.

  Chapter 51

  Alina

  One Week Later

  The next week was a big blur. From Miami, I flew to LAX. At the time, I didn't know why I had done it. I told myself it was because there were tons of famous people in L.A. so it would be easier to blend in. Or maybe I just belonged there since it was where all the porn stars lived.

  I spent my first few days in Los Angeles hermitting in a crappy motel, only having human contact to order the bare minimum amount of food required to not starve. I screened all my calls, and I didn't even go on my phone again after I received an email from the US ITA Committee informing me that my prize money for my gold and silver medal were being withheld pending a formal review of my disgraceful actions during the tiebreaker. In other words, I was probably never going to see that money, and even if I did, it would be well after my dad had already sold the bakery.

  After three days, I finally got the courage to go get tested for every STD in existence. When the tests all came back clean, I was finally able to admit to myself the real reason I had flown to Los Angeles: I had to see Bryce.

  I knew it wasn't fair to ask him to ever speak to me again, much less forgive me, but I had to try. I loved him.

  What the hell am I going to say to him?

  That question consumed my thoughts for the rest of the week. I kept trying to plan out the perfect apology, but the truth was, no apology could ever make up for what I had done. Maybe I just wanted to see him to get some closure. If I didn't try to get his forgiveness, it would eat away at me forever.

  I was going to summon an Uber, but my phone had died days ago and my charger was in Brazil, so instead I pulled on my Brazil hoodie and aviators and got the front desk to call me a taxi.

  When we arrived at the address I had found by doing some old-fashioned phonebook stalking on Bryce, I handed the cab driver my credit card to pay the fare.

  "Alina Smith?" he asked, reading the name on my card. "You're the ITA tiebreaker girl, right? I didn't recognize you with that hoodie on."

  "No, that's not me."

  He ignored me. "Can I have your autograph? My friends are never gonna believe I met you!"

  "You're mixed up. I'm pretty sure the tiebreaker girl was Aliba Stitch, not Alina Smith." Aliba? That's not even a real name.

  "Are you sure? You definitely look like her." He glanced down at my chest.

  "Yup. I'm sure." Is this what every day is going to be like now? I was going to need to buy an entirely new wardrobe consisting only of parkas and sunglasses.

  I took my credit card back from him and got out of the cab.

  Bryce lived in an apartment complex, so the door was locked and there was a call box with a list of tenants. I pushed the button next to the name Bryce Walker.

  "Bryce?" I said. "It's Alina. I'm so sorry about what happened. I never meant..." I stopped to choke back tears. "I...I just want to apologize. And then you never have to see me again."

  No answer.

  "Please, Bryce. I'm so, so sorry."

  Still no answer.

  It was clear Bryce didn't want to talk to me. I had kind of expected it, but I had been holding onto a small, ridiculous shred of hope that he would forgive me. The reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. I collapsed onto the stairs and cried my eyes out, and then I cried some more.

  ***

  A sickly homeless man offering me part of a sandwich - a sandwich he had clearly plucked from a trashcan - while I cried on the stairs of Bryce's apartment was the final straw. Being pitied by a homeless man was horrifying, but that alone wasn't what did it for me. What really did it was seeing how he kept going despite literally having nothing. Yes, I had done something awful, and yes, I had lost Bryce, but I hadn't lost everything. I still had money, I still had my health, and no matter how much I dreaded seeing my parents and my grandma, I knew that deep down they would still love me. I was going to have to face them eventually, so I might as well get it over with. If I took it one day at a time, I could slowly pick up the pieces of my shattered life.

  After catching a plane to Philly, I got an Uber to Kristen's apartment.

  Kristen had moved into a nice apartment after graduating a few months ago. I had moved home to live with my parents. But if I had to choose between facing my parents or facing Kristen, it was an easy choice.

  I pressed on the buzzer outside the building. "Kristen, it's me."

  She didn't say anything, but the doors immediately buzzed open. I took the stairs instead of the elevator, and then I stopped in front of her door. Am I really ready to see her? She had a front row seat to my gangbang. I didn't know how she could ever look at me the same again.

  I considered turning and running away, but before I could, the door opened.

  Kristen immediately threw her arms around. "Alina, I'm so, so sorry." She immediately burst into tears. "I didn't think you were ever going to talk to me again. I'm just so happy to see you."

  Her crying made me start crying. "What?" I choked through my sobs. "You're the one that shouldn't be talking to me. You saw what I did."

  Kristen pulled back and wiped the tears away from her eyes. "I just thought after my message..." she let her voice die away.

  "I haven't listened to any of my messages. My phone died. I...I can't."

  She grabbed my hand and pulled me into her apartment, closing the door behind me. "Alina, what happened was all my fault."

  "No it wasn't. I was like a sex craved maniac." Saying it out loud made me wince.

  "No." Kristen shook her head. "Tim planned that whole thing for me. He knew the idea of multiple partners excited me. He choreographed everything that happened. He just didn't tell anyone except the backup dancers about it."

  "Tim being crazy doesn't make it your fault. You just said you didn't know about it."

  "I didn't know. I swear I didn't. But you don't understand. I lied." She looked down at her ankle.

  For the first time, I realized she wasn't using her crutches. She didn't even have a wrap around her ankle.

  "I didn't hurt my ankle. I just wanted you to have the chance to beat Gabriela."

  "What?" I felt my tears biting at my eyes again. "I saw you fall..."

  "I faked it. And I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know what Tim was planning at the end of the dance. I didn't know what was going to happen. But it was supposed to be me up there. When he found out it was you, Tim told all the guys exactly what to say to make you feel comfortable. He used your relationship with Bryce to manipulate you. For some reason he was taking the tiebreaker way too fucking seriously. He completely lost his mind."

  I took a step away from her. "Kristen. My life is over. I can't go anywhere. I lost...everything." I felt like I couldn't breathe.

  Tears started coming to Kristen's eyes again. "I'm sorry. Alina, please, I'm so, so sorry."

  I sat down at a stool at her kitchen counter and put my face in my hands. "I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at Tim. I'm just mad at myself. How could I let it go that far?" I lifted my face out of my hands. I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks.

  "Because they were encouraging you. And because Coach Hammond didn't let you have sex for a month. And because Bryce teased you all week long."

  I laughed and then i
mmediately shook my head. "None of this is Bryce's fault." Bryce. Just thinking about him made my chest hurt. "He's lucky he never slept with me. Oh God. Or maybe he did. I don't even know."

  "He didn't." Kristen slid into the stool next to mine. "He was too busy trying to stop the whole thing. Tim didn't tell him what was going to happen either."

  I pictured Bryce with his black eye and bloody nose. God, that image was going to haunt me forever.

  "Have you talked to him?" asked Kristen.

  I shook my head. I knew he had called me. Before my phone died I had several missed calls from him. But I didn't know what to say. Nothing could take back what I had done. I thought seeing him in person would be better. He'd be able to see how sorry I was.

  "He tried to go after you when you fled the stage. You have to call him, Alina. You were falling in love with him."

  "Which is why I can't. I just can't."

  Kristen let my words settle around us. She was quiet for a few minutes while she stared at me.

  "Where have you been? Your parents are worried about you. No one knew where you were."

  "I went to Pasadena. I thought I could talk to him. I wanted to apologize." I shook my head. During the worst moment of my life, Bryce was the one that I wanted. I needed him. But it wasn't fair to him that I needed him right now. Not after what I had done. What I really needed was a miracle. That's what it would take for him to forgive me.

  "Did you try to go see him?"

  "Yes." My voice came out as more of a croak. "But he didn't let me into his apartment. He didn't even speak to me." I took a deep breath and looked down. "Kristen. I love him. If I could take it back, oh God, I wish I could just take it all back."

  She got off her stool and put her arms around me. "It's going to be okay."

  "No," I sobbed into her shoulder. Nothing was ever going to be okay ever again. Not if Bryce wasn't here beside me.

  "Did you ever think that maybe he wasn't there?"

  I shook my head.

  Kristen laughed. "He was probably just out then. He likes you. If there's anything I'm sure about, it's that he likes you. And he's probably just as worried about you as I've been."