I fall forward, resting my head against his shoulder. He still smells like the steaks he grilled for lunch, but I don’t want the reminder of that right now, of what we left back at that house.
“Dreams are overrated. You work and work and work, and then they end.”
“Endings are beginnings too.”
“Wow,” I say, lifting my head, “is that from an inspirational poster in here with a picture of someone crossing a finish line?”
“Someone on top of a mountain, actually. C’mon, Rey”—he scoffs playfully—“races and finish lines are sopedestrian.”
A laugh bubbles out of my chest completely unbidden except by his awful joke. “Oh my God, you didn’t. Seriously? That was the worst.” I try to pull my hand away as punishment for the pun, but he doesn’t let go.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mountaintops are thepeakof inspirational art.”
“Stop it,” I protest, laughing harder.
“You don’t like puns?” he asks in mock horror. “That’s it. I’m calling it. This was brief and beautiful, but the race is over, the mountain has been scaled, and it’s not worth it if you can’t handle my puns, Audrey Lee.”
“I hate puns, and I hate that we can’t be together right now, but maybe after the Olympics, we can have a very serious conversation about that.”
“Yeah?” He smirks. “I like the sound of that.”
“You should.” I move away as my brain flits back to the total team meltdown I walked away from back at the house. “We should probably head back.”
“Probably. My mom banished your teammates to their rooms for the rest of the day and then sent me to get you.”
“And you let us stay here this long? She probably thinks we’re in here hooking up or something. She’s my coach. I can’t let her think that I—”
“Too late,” he says with a casual shrug that makes me narrow my eyes in real annoyance.
“Leo!”
“Let’s go back, then,” he says, and I feel the eye roll in his words even though he’s smiling down at me.
“Snowboarders: you’re all so fucking chill about everything.” I disentangle our fingers and march out of the gym, making sure he can’t see the smile blooming on my face.
“I didn’t know gymnasts swore,” he calls from behind me, laughing.
I reach the door but stop and look back over my shoulder at him, still standing near the beam. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
In a few strides, he’s caught up, reaching around me to hold the door open. “And I can’t wait to find out.”
On the way back to the house is when things shift. We go from walking side by side, our hands brushing over and over again, to a foot away from each other. It feels wrong, almost dangerous, like we have our backs to a tornado and ignoring it will somehow stop it from plowing into us.
He stops at the end of the driveway. “So, this is it.”
“Yeah,” I agree, but I don’t look up into his eyes because I’m pretty sure I’ll renege on that instantly, and I can’t risk that. I can’t risk jeopardizing everything I’ve worked for my entire life—not for Leo, not for anything.
With a deep breath, I walk away from him, up to the front door and into the house, refusing to let myself look over my shoulder to check if he’s still there.
“Welcome back,” Janet says as I walk through the door. She and Mrs. Jackson are sitting on the couch. “You went to the gym.”
“I did. Can I?” I motion upstairs.
“Not yet,” Mrs. Jackson says, motioning to one of the armchairs. I hesitate to sit on the white linen—I’m still covered in chalk from the morning’s workout—but I perch gingerly on the edge of the chair and fold my hands in my lap.
“Audrey,” Janet begins, looking to Mrs. Jackson and then back to me, “I know this might be awkward, but we have to discuss you and my son …”
“No, it’s okay.” I gather my courage. “Leo and I spoke, and we decided that … to not … you know, be together, since you’re my coach now and …” This is almost as embarrassing as what happened earlier, but I tamp down the urge to flee again.
