Before I can say a word, a voice interrupts.My favorite voice, actually.
And the one I never wanted to hear in this context.Not here.Not like this.
"Didn't realize I was such a branding liability," Thomas says, voice light, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes.
"You heard?"I ask, feeling guilty for some reason.
I have been reporting on him and other athletes for years now.It was my job as a journalist.But it never occurred to me how strange it must be to hear people discussing you, commenting on your strengths and weaknesses.
"This is a little awkward," I admit truthfully.
"What?"he smirks."Talking about people like they are… not people?"
I don´t answer.
"Thomas," Brenner says."We were just talking…"
"Next time," Thomas cuts him short."If you want vulnerability, ask for it to my face, you asshole."
I freeze at those words and at the tone and wait for Brenner's reaction.To my utter surprise, he just sighs.
"We'll talk about this, Thomas.You may consider apologizing, though."
And with that, he walks away.Well, I guess being a living legend comes with perks.
"I am sorry, I guess," I start tentatively."Will Brenner be alright after you called him an asshole?"
Thomas watches the door that Brenner just walked through, still glaring.Apparently, these two have a history.Then he looks back at me and laughs out loud.His eyes just a little hazy, his laugh a little inappropriate.Well, they have been drinking for hours now.
"He's heard worse from me," he says finally."When he gave me his worst for behaving like a child.In those days when I drank myself under the table at every afterparty and he would rant about my potential and me needing to grow up."
"Actually, that is a story I could write, you know…"
"And that is precisely the problem with you," he says, and his tone is sharper than I have ever heard from him.I take a step back.
"You press people," he adds in a milder tone."I am never enough.When I was a wild idiot, they told me to calm down.Now I am too polished.When I skied like a madman, nearly crashing at every turn, they called me reckless.Now they say I am too perfect, no mistakes, no thrill."
Mentally, I make notes, finally, something I could use to build his image.
What am I doing, spinning his pain into narrative gold?No wonder they don’t trust us.
"You know," I start and consider patting his arm, but think better of it.We don't want to touch, not when we are alone, not when one of us is drunk."These are precisely the details fans would love.Something about how your life has changed lately.Media obligations, press pressuring you, scrutiny ruining your privacy, that kind of drama.
"Katharina," he looks at me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm."You are expecting drama and story, but I am afraid I don't have one."
He rubs his forehead and continues without looking at me: "It's not that I am hiding something.It's just that I don't think too much.Do I regret not being able to get drunk with fans after every run?Never thought about it, this is the way things are today.Do I regret not being able to screw a different girl in every leg and risk getting into tabloids?Well… that depends on the girl.I just don't think about it and live the life that is."
"Things happened too fast for you," I said, ignoring the remark that might have hurt me."You became a superstar too soon, too easily…"
"You think?"he raises an eyebrow."That's exactly the kind of statementyou'dsay, and I wouldn't."
"Youlike… the press people?"
"You like the smart people.The kind who overthink and make everything complicated."
There is longing in those brown eyes, and I don't have an answer.
"Are we still talking about skiing and press?"I ask.
