He doesn't wantme.He wants an admirer.A warm body.A bit of awe to feed his fire.
Is this not precisely what he said?
"Because that's why I'm so good this season.You're my drive."
Fine.If all he sees when he looks at me is a fan with a decent vocabulary, then maybe that's all I'll give him.
The next buzz comes a few minutes later.
Matteo: “Got your number from your American friend.Thought I'd send you this early quote from the team captain.Might help with the recap.But if not, I'll find another way to get your attention.”
Useful.Professional.Polite.
I smile despite myself.Matteo plays the game well.
And tonight, maybe I need to feel like I still know how to win one.
I need to feel like someone still wants me—without making me bleed for it.
He actually reads my pieces, or quotes them well enough to make me believe he did.With Matteo, attention is currency; he pays promptly.
So I answer.Just one line.Just a little flirt.
Then another.
And another.
I'm still sipping wine from the bottle Thomas brought me.
But tonight, I answer Matteo.
***
Wengen, Switzerland, January 12
We moved to Wengen for the following speed events.
I arrived on Monday, following the slalom in Adelboden.The guys were already deep into prep for the super-G on Friday and the downhill on Saturday.Training runs started on Tuesday.A busy schedule, as always.
I didn't actively avoid Thomas.Nor, I thought, did he avoid me.
Still, the silence felt intentional.
I've been feeling guilty about texting Matteo.I got drunk that night in Adelboden and said too much, flirted too openly.And the texting didn't stop.I knew the Eurosport offer was a stunt.
When I met the manager in Bolzano, it was evident from the first handshake: she was only meeting me as a favor to Italy's golden boy.There was no job offer.I came back a few hours poorer, a little more jaded, and with one vaguely useful contact.
But Matteo was relentless.Charming.Effortlessly flattering in the exact moments when Thomas was stone-faced or gone.
I still don't understand how things got this far off track with Thomas Kern.Before Christmas, it wasn't just sex or flirting—we were close.Closer than I expected.Every glance carried something charged but tender, too.I felt seen.I knew he cared, even if he didn't say it outright.And the tension...God, that tension.
I still feel it sometimes.That night in Val d'Isère when he touched my arm—just one finger tracing my skin like he was drawing a map for himself.If Niko hadn't walked in, we would've ended up in bed.I know it.I would've let it happen.
And afterward, I wanted to let it happen again.Wanted to drop the restraint the moment the tour restarted.
Even though going home reminded me of why I swore never to date an athlete.
But I realized that Maddie might have been right.Maybe a little fun was exactly what I needed.
