“Basically, the short program is more about technique and control, while the free skate is more about artistry. It’s also a little bit longer. I’ve always done well in the short program. I’m a very technical skater, but I’ve always struggled with the free skate.”
“Why’s that?”
“I think…I think it’s hard for me to work with the song my mother picked for the free program,” Adonis admitted. This wasn’t something he usually talked about—in fact, he’d only ever confessed it to Clarisse. Anamária had picked a classical piece for his free skate, though skaters were allowed to pick more contemporary pieces, including pieces with lyrics. When Adonis skated for fun, he preferred to skate to contemporary music—hyper-pop, hip hop, or even rap music—but the one time he’d shown something he’d choreographed himself to pop music, Anamária had been scandalized.
“Well, use a different song,” Drew said.
It was Adonis’s turn to laugh. “I can’t switch my songat the Olympics.”
“Why not?” Drew crossed his arms.
Adonis floundered for a moment. “There has to be a rule against that, isn’t there?”
“Show me the rule.”
“I…huh.” Adonis’s instincts told him that it would be impossible to switch his song. Not to mention incredibly stupid. He’d spent months, years, perfecting the free skate that Anamária had chosen and choreographed for him. Damien had given him feedback. They’d gone over hours of footage.
But it didn’t feel like him.
“Think about it,” Drew said, finishing his cappuccino. “I hope your short program goes well!”
——
The short program, technically, went well. Adonis finished with the bronze medal. He was sweating and out of breath, still on the podium, and he couldn’t help but smile as the medal was placed around his neck. It was a pleasant, cold weight.
Anamária was pleased with bronze, though Adonis could tell she had hoped for silver or gold.
Later, Adonis was back in his room in the Olympic Village, collapsed on his bed, and was busy trying to take a nap, or rest his eyes, or do anything to recharge before the practice he’d have later that day.
There was a knock on his door. Expecting Drew, he said, “Come in!” without opening his eyes.
The door opened.
“Sleepy?”
Adonis sat upright in a jolt. It wasn’t Drew, but Damien. Zelinski entered the room and shut the door behind him. Adonis’s heartbeat stuttered like a tired engine and then shot up a few BPM.
“Hi,” Adonis said. Damien hadn’t been to his room in the Village before. Adonis didn’t like that he was here now. “Am I late for practice?”
“No,” Damien said. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the bronze. That’s very impressive.”
“Thank you,” Adonis said warily.
“We can take that energy, and I think we can get you bronze or silver in the free skate,” Damien continued. “You were more fluid and artistically free in the short program than I’ve seen you in a long time. Keep that up, and you’ll do very well in the free skate.”
Without an invitation, he came over to the bed and sat beside Adonis.
“Oh,” Adonis said.
“How are you feeling about the free skate?”
Adonis thought about his conversation with Drew, how Drew had recommended changing his song without approval from Damien or Anamária.
“I’m feeling fine,” Adonis said.
“I’m very proud of the work you’ve put in so far,” Damien continued. “You’re almost there. You’ll do great in the free skate.”
Adonis’s skin turned to ice when Damien’s hand touched his thigh.
