"Great gliding today.Just not quite enough at the bottom?"
"Did the snow change during the final ten?"
I answer smoothly.Calm.Smile when I need to.Repeat what matters.
The top split was green.I felt fast out of the gate, skis floating over the gliding section like I had wings.Came off the Coaches Corner clean.No rattle in the legs.But at the Fall-Away, I stayed too conservative.Bellini didn't.He cut the risk where I played smart.
And it paid off for him.
I unzip my jacket, ignore the cold creeping into my suit, and head into the lodge.The warmth inside hits like a wall.Wooden beams, hot chocolate, the sound of ski techs talking wax behind me.
And then I see her.
Katharina, standing near the media zone's back corridor, tablet in one hand, her other pushing hair behind her ear as she listens to Bellini talk.He's grinning, of course, and she's smiling in that way she does when she's managing people.Not laughing.Just slightly amused.Slightly dangerous.
But when she asks a question, I see something else, a playful touch of her fingers on a stream of hair, a look into his eyes, a little too intense for my taste.
I should walk the other way.
I don’t.
"Hope you got that quote right," I say lightly as I approach, eyes flicking to her then to him."He tends to exaggerate when he's had a good run."
Bellini doesn't miss a beat."Says the man who lost by sixteen hundredths."
I clap him on the back."You finally stopped skiing like it's your side hustle.I'm proud."
He laughs."Feels good up there.Think I'll get used to it."
We grin.Teasing, practiced.But there's something different today—an edge under the banter.We both feel it.We both notice the way Katharina doesn't jump in.
Just watches.Eyes slightly narrowed, smiling, smug smile.She knows and is amused.
She shifts, turning to me."Congrats," she says, professional and even."Solid run.Looked clean on the Coaches Corner."
I nod."Felt good."
Bellini smirks."He handled it like a man who wanted to finish second."
I could joke back.But I don't.
I look at her instead."You know," I say, tilting my head slightly, "you can just say you're impressed."
She raises an eyebrow."Second place isn't bad.It looks good on you."
I blink.Then laugh, short, involuntary.God, she's sharp.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Brenner watching.Just a flicker, an arched brow, a tiny pause before he turns back to his phone.Not much.But enough to tell me he noticed.
Bellini glances between us like he's sensing something he doesn't have words for yet.She turns back to her tablet like nothing happened.I hate how much I enjoy it.
The bar is quiet now.Some muffled early-2000s ballad with too much reverb trickles in, probably from a playlist called "Chill Vibes".The techs and coaches claimed the table in the back with beers and burgers.I sit alone at a high table near the window, sipping beer, dark and cold, bitter and deserved.There's a super-G tomorrow; one small beer is the limit.
Across the room, Lukas is holding court with a couple of younger racers, lecturing about patience, though his taped knee makes the lesson sting with irony.He masks it with a laugh, but I can see the grit behind his smile.
This is the moment I enjoy.The bitter taste of beer on my tongue and the calmness of the evening.
Katharina walks in, with a little tired eyes, yet perfect hair.
