“Yeah?”
“Emma and I used to freak out if we saw your mom’s gym entered in the competition because we knew she’d bring you along.”
We just stand there in silence, letting our mutual confessions settle around us. We wouldn’t have been able to act on it in the past; we were just kids, and neither of us would have had time for a long-distance anything—but now?
His hand reaches out, fingers closing lightly over my wrist. His hand is so much bigger than mine. “Is it okay if I … ?” he asks, gently bending down but hesitating.
For a moment my brain goes haywire, not understanding what he’s asking, but then my eyes meet his and it clicks into place. I nod, and he closes the last inches of distance between us, but before his lips can brush against mine, the door down the hall opens and a wave of sound spills out.
Leo falls forward, his forehead resting against mine, and he exhales. The connection is still there, our eyes locked together, but the moment is over. People are streaming out of the room, and I am not doing this—whatever this is—in front of an audience. He seems to get that without me saying a word, and he pulls back and steps away. My wrist tingles at the loss of contact.
“Damn,” he says, the disappointment clear in his furrowed brow, but then he’s smiling, that confident grin nowhere to be seen, replaced by something almost shy and a little bit sheepish.
I lick my lips—they feel way too dry right now—and he groans in the back of his throat.
I laugh. Not at him, but at the crowd of people still flowing out of the room, making privacy impossible.
He chuckles too. “I really have to go. My flight is in two hours, and my mom will kill me if we miss it,” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Have a safe trip home,” I say, trying to make it a little easier.
It doesn’t work.
“Listen, I know the next few weeks will be insane for you, but we’ll text, okay? And then … I don’t know, come visit me at Stanford or wherever I am with your medals or something. I don’t know. Just—”
“That sounds amazing,” I cut off his ramble.
“Yeah?” he asks, his smile widening in what looks a lot like relief.
“Definitely.”
He’s barely down the hallway when the door behind me swings open and Emma grabs my arm, pulling me into the room. She chucks a ball of what I assume is a dress at my head, and I just barely catch it before it hits me in the face.
“Did he kiss you? I couldn’t see through the peephole.”
I’m not even a little bit outraged. I would have spied too. “Almost,” I say, pulling off my tracksuit and getting out of my leo fast before carefully sliding on the dress. It’s actually one of Emma’s, a light gray mini with small straps at the shoulders and a cutout at the back where it ties together, leaving a diamond of skin exposed.
I turn for her inspection, and she nods before reaching out and adjusting the tie at the back. “Okay, you’re good. And me?” she asks.
Motioning for her to spin around, I assess the gold spangled, almost flapper-style dress she’s in and then I laugh. “Did you seriously give me a silver dress to wear while you wear gold?”
Her eyes fly open wide, but then she giggles. “Just preparing you for that bars podium.”
“Oh my God! Okay, you look great, let’s go.”
We slide into almost-fancy flip-flops and grab our phones and race down the hallway together. The bass from the music is still pounding away, and when the door flies open, Chelsea is on the other side, taking our hands with a wide smile and leading us into the suite.
Emma links her fingers through mine, and we head straight for the group of people dancing. My pulse matches the quick beat as Emma and I find the rhythm of the track and start dancing and singing and laughing along. It’s dark in the room. Though the city-scape shines in through the windows—the same view Leo and I looked out over just a little while ago—it’s tough to make out who is who in the sea of bodies, but that doesn’t matter. I’m going to the Olympics with my best friend, and even if it’s just for tonight, I’m going to celebrate.
chapter four
“Imade the Olympic team.”
That doesn’t sound real.
“I’m going to the Olympics.”
Nope. Still sounds fake.
