“Well, I would rather orchestrate a situation to push you away than have a difficult conversation. Which makes me a coward, too,” she said. But she could feel the strange tension in the air.
34! 33! 32!
“I’d keep you at arm’s length,” she confessed, “then run at the first sight of trouble.”
“I’d hang on even when it’s too far gone.” He shrugged. “I can’t help it, I’m a fixer.”
“I’ve learned to be a bolter.”
“Then,” he whispered, “I guess we’d be a match made in hell.”
21! 20! 19!
Yet there they were, knees pressed against each other, faces so close she could feel his breath. She wanted to sink her teeth into the tension. But then, to her relief, he made the first move.
Drew gently ran his finger down the side of her cheek, the friction on her skin sliding toward a spark. He found a loose curl, caught it between his fingers, and gently brushed it behind her ear. His touch slowly lit up every nerve in her body. So, she let her hand find his arm, slowly drifting up as she felt the firm muscle beneath his shirt. He watched her hand rise until it settled on his shoulder, tightening as his finger traced small circles on the soft skin between her neck and jaw. When she spoke, her words landed so softly he had no choice but to lean closer.
8! 7! 6!
“The breakup would be awful,” she whispered, biting her lip. But she could feel the warmth spreading across her body as he glanced down at her mouth and then back into her eyes.
“But maybe it would be worth it?” he said, lips twitching upward, like a man willing to risk it all.
“Which is why… we shouldneversee each other again.”
3! 2! 1!
But when they collided, all her worries and reasons faded. He kissed her, soft and slow. The gentle pressure of it sending a streak of heat across her body, like a match gliding until the friction turned into a flame. Before she knew it, she was leaning in. He was wrapping his hands around her waist. And their lips were moving in rhythm, achingly slow and sensual like two lovers on a dance floor. Her body was begging her to lose her senses. But shecouldn’t give in. He was handsome and honest, and in so many ways, the exact kind of escape she needed that night.
But Drew knew her secrets, and Ari knew his. So, she pulled away, ignored the fireworks lighting up the sky, and ran down the stairs. She left the party before the taste of his lips could change her mind.
St. Moritz,
Switzerland
February 2026
8Drew
ONE DAY BEFORE THE OPENING CEREMONY
Drew had been in the Village for less than forty-eight hours but was already responsible for a casualty. Because he was the kind of person who would doanythingto get the perfect photo, he’d climbed onto a slippery bench to take a portrait of a Finnish speed skater practicing her routine on the outdoor ice rink. Then dangled himself from a tree to capture a shot of a group of Ecuadorian ski mountaineers huddled around a fire after a walk. He’d balanced on bridge handrails, run down icy steps, and even gone as far as to ride a bike with no hands in pursuit of the perfect photo. But in the end, it was a patch of grass hiding a layer of black ice that brought him to his knees.
He’d slipped and watched in horror as his camera flew into the air, crashed into a tree, and landed on the ground. He’d escaped the scene with just a couple of bruises, but the shattered glass he’d heard on his fall looked as ominous as it sounded. He sat on the icy ground for a moment, devastated to see theshattered remains of his new telephoto lens. As he headed to the press office to see if he could order a replacement to arrive in time for the opening ceremony, he wondered whether breaking his new professional camera within twenty-four hours of arriving at the Winter Games was as bad an omen as it felt.
“You can use this, but don’t tell a soul that I helped you,” said Luiz, handing him a replacement lens that worked perfectly on the Canon EOS he was using that day.
Luiz Souza was a press liaison assistant from Brazil who’d moved to Switzerland to work for the Olympics. His job was to make sure that everything ran smoothly when it came to the journalists, photographers, and media teams working in the Village. His short brown hair was smartly swooped back, he was wearing a crisp tailored suit under hisPRESS TEAMjacket, and he always seemed to be running an hour ahead of schedule. Which is why he’d immediately noticed Drew’s… haphazard approach. But rather than getting annoyed, Luiz took Drew under his wing and helped him find a replacement for his broken lens.
“Thanks, man. You’ve saved my life. I can’t afford to mess things up on the first day,” said Drew. He attached the loaned lens to his camera and thanked the universe for protecting his SD card.
“Well, lifesaving is a onetime thing. From now on, you and your bad luck need to stay fifty meters away from meat all times,” said Luiz, his foot impatiently tapping the floor as he waited for Drew to collect his things.
“If you ever need a favor, just know I owe you one.”
“The best thing you could do for me is get to the closing ceremony without breaking a body part. I’m way too busy to take you to the emergency room and file an incident report,” Luiz joked. “Out there?It’s every man for himself.” Luiz pushed openthe door at the end of the hallway and they stepped out into the truest representation of organized chaos.
The press office was an ultrahigh-tech building that housed over ten thousand journalists, seven hundred accredited photographers, and more laptops, phones, and camera screens than Drew could possibly count. It was filled with people at the peak of their careers. Legendary photographers who had captured some of the most important stories of the twenty-first century and Pulitzer Prize–winning journalists who’d covered wars and landmark elections. That winter’s press office was a who’s who of some of the most acclaimed storytellers in the world, and among the crowd of serious journalistic icons was… Drew.
