“Don’t be anxious,” Damien said.
“I’m not,” Adonis said. “You can move your hand.”
“Are you sure you’re not anxious?” Damien didn’t remove his hand. He started rubbing Adonis’s thigh.
“I’m sure,” Adonis said. He stood abruptly. “I think you should leave.”
Damien stood. He was far too close to Adonis. “I’m here to help you if you are anxious,” Damien said. “If you need help loosening up.”
Adonis’s jaw clenched. “Look, Damien. This? Touching me? Entirely inappropriate.” He took a step closer to Damien. Damien wanted to invade his space? Fine. Adonis would invade his. He was shorter than Damien, but he drew himself to his full height and imagined that he loomed over Damien. Damien shrank back. “I know that I haven’t given youanyreason to think that I’m interested in you, in any capacity. I don’t even want you as my coach. You crossed a line before, and I tried to respect your dignity by not making a big deal of it. But now you have crossed a line again, even though I told you not to. Leave now. Iwillbe telling my mother about this.”
Damien sneered. “Your mother? Do you think she’ll care? She knows you needed me to get to the Olympics.” His sneer deepened, ugly. “Even she didn’t trust your ability to get into the Olympics on your own. You know she tried to blackmail HPD into getting you a spot on the team? How do you think you, an amateur, managed to get here?”
Adonis’s gut twisted. “Get. Out.”
The ugly sneer turned to an uglier smile. “Good luck in your free skate, kid. Don’t expect my help.”
He stormed out of the room, leaving Adonis trembling in anger, alone.
After several seconds, during which he breathed deeply through his nose, trying to calm his heartbeat, Adonis made a decision.
He went back to his bed, picked up his phone, and pressed “stop” on the video he’d been taking. It had been a last-minute decision to record the interaction with Damien. It was a lucky moment that he’d had his camera open. The video hadn’t captured any visuals of what had happened, but it had captured the full dialogue.
Fuck you, Damien, Adonis thought. He saved the video. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with it yet, but it would come in handy. That he knew.
He pocketed his phone, went to his gym bag, grabbed his skates, and hurriedly left his room.
Chapter 23
Bash
When Bash had gotten home to Amsterdam, he had been expecting a serious, somber mood. He wasn’t disappointed. Gerard Koning was bedridden in his room in the Koning’s large mansion. Sophie Koning spent most of the day drinking and worrying. Lotte was back from Groningen for the time being and spent most of her time sitting in one of the drawing rooms, on her laptop, worrying.
A constant cycle of doctors came and went, but there was very little they could do. The damage to Gerard’s heart was too much, they told the Koning family. He hadn’t listened to the constant advice, and now he was paying for it. He was just lucky that the most recent heart attack hadn’t killed him the moment it happened.
Some days, Bash sat with his father, who was mostly unresponsive in his bed. He would talk to Gerard, sometimes, monologuing because Gerard couldn’t answer. It was the most he’d talked to his father in ages. He told Gerard about school, about how his classes were going at Bellford. He told him about hockey and how he was finally feeling like himself again on the ice.
Most importantly, he told Gerard about Adonis. About how Bash was confused about what to do. How he was pretty sure he had feelings for Adonis—more than just “liking” him. How he was afraid he was falling in love with Adonis, and he didn’t know what to do about that.
Gerard had nothing to say in response. He drooled occasionally, and Bash took that as confirmation when he asked a question.
On a day that Gerard was particularly unresponsive, Lotte knocked on the door. “Hoi,” she said. Hey.
He smiled up at her, as much of a smile as he could manage. “Hoi.”
“Wil je naar de Olympische Spelen kijken?” Do you want to watch the Olympics? “Je vriend Adonis staat op het punt op te treden.” Your friend Adonis is about to perform.
Bash sat up a bit straighter. He’d told Lotte almost everything about Adonis. Lotte’s love life might be a constant mess (she and Prince Gustav were currently in the midst of a much-publicized tiff), but she gave pretty good advice. She’d settled adamantly on the idea that Bash needed to tell Adonis how he felt, though the problem was that Bash couldn’t articulate even to his sister how he felt.
“Wanneer?” Bash asked. When?
“Over tien minuten.” In ten minutes.
Bash stood, stretched, and stifled a yawn. He hadn’t been very active since going home. He missed the ice rink. He missed the gym. His body needed them both.
The Koning house had a massive home theater. The maids had prepared snacks, and Bash and Lotte sprawled in two lounge chairs, beer and wine in hand. Lotte commandeered the remote and flipped to the Olympic channel.
“Juichen we voor Adonis?” she asked. Are we cheering for Adonis?
