“Thanks for coming to the scrimmage,” Bash said. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. And Clarisse wanted to see Robbie, so I thought I’d come to support with her.”
“Oh, yeah? Just to support Robbie with Clarisse?” Bash said, a hint of teasing entering his voice. “There was no other reason you wanted to be here?”
Adonis’s face was entirely serious. “Nope. No other reason. None at all.”
“Wow.No one elseyou wanted to see?”
“I mean, there are lots of hot guys on the hockey team,” Adonis said. “I enjoyed seeing them.
Bash’s phone buzzed—a message from Lotte telling him that she’d put together an extensive file on Adonis and that she approved of him as a future life partner. Bash decided to ignore her; he’d explain later that “future life partner” was the last thing on his mind.
“I’m sad that Clarisse and I are driving back tonight,” Adonis said, his voice low.
Bash smiled. “Could’ve been fun to get ahead of our scheduled rendezvous, as you call them.”
Adonis sighed dramatically. “Thank god you’ve taught me patience.”
If it weren’t so public, Bash would’ve taken Adonis right here, fucking him against the wall of the restaurant.
That, however, sounded like an arrest for public fornication and indecency, which would get in the way of his NHL plans. So, he thought better of it.
“Let’s go back inside,” Bash said. “I’m still hungry.”
“How many pizzas have you eaten at this point?” Adonis asked.
“Not enough. Never enough.”
Chapter 16
Adonis
The next few weeks were very busy. September and October weren’t as competition-heavy for the figure skating club, but as far as Anamária was concerned, that meant they should double down on their training.
Adonis’s mornings were spent on the ice, followed by back-to-back classes every day. Afternoons sometimes meant more ice time on days the hockey team didn’t need the Rink. On days without afternoon skating practice, the team focused on off-ice conditioning: stretches, strength training, recovery exercises, and choreography. By the time Adonis shoveled a late protein-heavy dinner into his mouth each night and finally hit the books in one of the libraries or his apartment, he was exhausted. More than once, he considered the efficacy of taping his eyelids open, but decided that wouldn’t be healthy for his corneas.
He saw little of Bash during those weeks. They had anticipated this, and Adonis was protecting their scheduled hookup time after fall break with sacred determination.
His mother was constantly filming his practices and routines and was in constant communication with U.S. Skating’s High Performance Development. They didn’t have any official news yet about Team USA, but Adonis knew that his name was in the conversation for the Olympics.
Anamária wouldn’t let him forget.
She mentioned it almost every practice. Whenever he messed up a routine, she’d say that if he did that in the Olympics, it would cost him this many points, or that many points.
Damien Zelinski was almost as bad. Maybe even worse. He liked to talk ad nauseam about the other skaters he had coached, often comparing Adonis’s techniques to theirs (rarely favorably).
Fall Break arrived, bringing with it the first truly cool days in New England. Adonis and his mother packed their bags and flew to Colorado Springs to spend three days at the U.S. Figure Skating headquarters. The three days were part of a closed-door, invite-only event. Adonis and several other young figure skaters were there for on-ice monitoring sessions and off-ice meetings with officials from U.S. Skate: nutritionists, trainers, and coaches.
“This is good,” Anamária said to him on the second night there. “This means they’redefinitelyconsidering you for Team USA.”
She wasn’t wrong, Adonis figured. There was no formal “tryout” process for the Olympic team. Instead, selection was based on rigorous monitoring sessions like this and skaters’performances at other events. Adonis had been doing consistently well in his collegiate and challenger competitions, and if it weren’t for a sneaky sense of doubt, he would think that he had it in the bag.
On the last day in Colorado Springs, Adonis and his mother sat down with a U.S. Skating High Performance Development manager, an old friend of his mother’s. Her name was Connie. She looked like she had been born on the ice, wearing figure skates. Her skin was very pale, her hair white-blonde, and her eyes a strange shade of very light gray. She wore cream-colored workout clothes that didnot, in Adonis’s opinion, go very well with her skin tone.
“It’s been very good to meet you, Adonis,” she was saying, though her Botoxed face left much to be desired about how “good” she actually felt about their meeting. “We’ve been very impressed by what we have seen this week.” She hesitated. “I think I can confidently say that you’re in a very strong position here.”
To Anamária’s credit, she didn’t jump up and praise the gods in celebration. All she did was tense a bit in her seat. Adonis felt a flush of satisfaction, coupled with an unpleasant churning of nerves.
