“Would that be okay?”
He shrugs. “Kage talks in his sleep, but I’ve got earplugs. Better than listening to you two go at it like hyenas like I had to last year in Maine.”
My ears feel like they burst into flames.
“Wh-what?” I stammer.
“The walls at that resort were very thin, Cedric. Did you think there was no one next door?”
Somehow, even though I’ve hardly thought of anything else but that night and the awful day after in the months that followed, questions like, “Did anyone overhear our marathon fuckfest?” have never crossed my mind. Maybe they would haveif the next day had been a normal one. The kind with jokes and laughter as Austin and I raced each other down the hill, then raced even faster back to the hotel to pick up where we had left off. But all we had at the end of that day was broken bones and broken hopes.
I press my lips together, bunching my napkin in my lap. I’m not usually one for embarrassment, but knowing Matthieu heard us that night...I wasn’t worried about being overheard. Sometimes I was trying to be as loud as possible. I wanted the world to know Austin was mine and I was his.
“We’ll be quiet,” I say. Matthieu pats my shoulder in a fatherly way, but it takes several minutes and the rest of my glass of wine before I can look at him again.
As dinner wraps up, Ivan rises and makes a short speech. He’s not one for big demonstrations.
“You all know what we’re here to do,” he says. “You’ve worked hard to be here. I believe every one of you has it in you to win here. Stick with the program, and we’ll see what happens.” He lifts a glass and we all do as well. “Clear heads and strong legs. Be ready for your final runs tomorrow, remember to rest and hydrate tonight, and stay sharp.”
I glance at Austin, and for the first time tonight, he’s watching me too. His eyebrow arches and he tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. The message is very clear. The odds of me being properly hydrated by the time the sun rises tomorrow morning are very,veryslim.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
We try to be quiet.Honestly, we do. The Olympics are notoriously horny, or so I’ve heard, but everyone else on the team must have taken a vow of celibacy until after the racing is done, because most people keep to themselves as we all walk down the wintery road from the restaurant back to the hotel, and voices are muffled while we head for the elevators. Austin and I get in first, then are nearly crushed as the whole team tries to squeeze in together. Small European elevators are not made for a whole Olympic entourage, but even once a few people step off, the two of us are squished into a back corner facing each other. My shoulder is jammed awkwardly to one side, trying not to push against one of the equipment techs. Austin’s got a foot planted between mine and a hand on my waist. We do our best to look anywhere but at each other, but in my struggle to avoid Austin’s gaze, I land on Matthieu and Kage’s together, standing close towards the front. Kage smirks. Matthieu winks. I shift, trying to escape their silent teasing, but all that gets me is pressed even closer to Austin. So close, in fact, I can feel the thick ridge of a needy erection pushing against the front of his pants and grinding against my hip.
As people get off on each floor and the crowd in the elevator thins out, I push him gently behind me. The pants I wore to dinner are less fitted than his, and while I’m almost definitely just as hard, I can hide it better.
“Remember that end-of-season pizza party when we were twelve?” I whisper over my shoulder.
“What?” he asks. At least he’s not grinding against my ass, but his hands are on each of my hips and his breath washing over the back of my neck makes me shudder.
“Lyle De Brun. Overdid it on chocolate cake and orange soda.”
Austin groans and I know exactly the scene he’s picturing. Poor Lyle. He was a few years behind us and way more interested in the after-practice snacks than he ever really was in racing. When presented with unlimited two-litre bottles of soda and a giant chocolate sheet cake, he couldn’t control himself. After a few hours of stuffing himself silly without parental supervision, he suddenly exploded into a convulsion of orange and chocolate vomit that went on far longer than a typical child should be able. Fortunately we were outside, so he threw up into the snow. Unfortunately, Austin and I happened to get a front row seat, since we’d been assigned to clean-up crew, and were dumping empty paper plates into the garbage bin that had been Lyle’s target before his stomach decided it had waited long enough and unleashed its wrath five steps away. The scene was out of a horror movie. The smell...
Oh hey. Erection’s gone. And based on the way Austin drops his forehead to my shoulder and sags his whole body against mine so there’s no space between us, his has evaporated too.
“You’re the worst,” he mutters.
I take the hand that’s on one of my hips and wrap it around my middle, patting gently.
“You love me,” I say, and I’m so confident in the words I don’t even need his confirmation.
When the door dings for our floor, Matthieu takes off down the hall at a run.
“Where’s he going?” Kage asks, as the rest of us exit. We walk down the hall at a more leisurely pace, and before Austin and I even get back to my room, Matthieu is letting himself out through the door again, a black toiletry kit tucked under one arm.
“Needed my toothbrush,” he says, jostling the kit slightly. “Sleep tight.”
“Sleep tight?” Kage asks, expression confused. “Where? Where are you sleeping?” His questions continue as Matthieu drags him back down the hall. He keeps glancing at us, but Matthieu continues until they reach the room Kage has been sharing with Austin and disappear inside.
“He’s sweet,” I say. “Not the sharpest edge on the ski, but a good kid.”
“He’s fast,” Austin says. “Another couple years and we’ll have a hard time keeping up with him.”
No more race talk. I have spent all day being an Olympian and doing Olympic things. Now is the time to do something for us.
