At least the hot water was plentiful.He stood in the shower and let the spray stream over him.He’d just soaped up when the cell phone he'd left handy on the counter rang.Not stopping to rinse off, he stepped out on the mat, wiped his hand on a towel, and grabbed the phone.Coach Andre.
“Yes?”
“Bannichek?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Press conference is set for seven-thirty tonight, at the gym.It will go live on ESPN, delayed on the networks.I haven't told anyone what it's about, but come early, so they don't try to intercept you with questions ahead of time.”
Tyler got another “Yes, sir” past his dry throat and hung up.
He stepped back into the shower and rinsed distractedly, watching the thin streak of bubbles run down the drain.He reached for the shower gel and soaped up again.The water turned the green herbal-scented liquid white, and the froth traced lines across the hard ridges of his abdomen, down the muscles of the thighs he’d worked so hard to build.He ran a hand over the tight bulge of his left quads, down to his knee.No need for that now.No need for all the hours and the effort.Didn’t matter if his leg wasn't perfect, he wasn't perfect.Just one more duty to be done, and that was a matter of endurance not strength.He soaped up...again.Fuck.
The bathroom was hot and steamy by the time he stepped out and reached for the towel.Foggy was good, foggy like his brain, and the mirror so hazed he couldn’t see his own eyes.He toweled off and walked naked into his bedroom to dress.A plain pair of blue briefs were an easy choice, but there he stuck, staring into his closet.What did you wear to announce the end of the world?Well, if you were going to bethatemo, you'd probably wear a black suit, but even he wasn't taking his regrets that far.So, team uniform?A nice pair of slacks and a button-down?Jeans and a T-shirt?Probably not the last; it would seem disrespectful.And not the team stuff.All his USA gear hung there in his closet, the warm-ups and jacket and everything, in bright red, white, and blue.He wondered if they would want it back.
Against his will he reached out and ran his hand over the team jacket.The shell was made out of breathable fabric, but it was still hot as hell to wear in the summer weather.The air would have been cooler in England though.Probably just about right.
He forced himself to take out a pair of khaki pants and a light-yellow button-down shirt.The shirt was tight around his biceps and loose at his waist.He tucked it in and tightened his belt another notch.The collar felt like a noose around his neck and he opened the second button.
“They just don't make shirts to fit you guys, do they?”Eli said from the doorway.
Tyler grunted, not turning to look at him.Maybe if he didn't look at Eli, he would go away.Just the sound of his voice made Tyler's throat feel as tight as the damned sleeves.
“Why are you dressing up?Hot date?”
Tyler shrugged without turning, and dug in his dresser for matching socks, flipping through the singles.No, no, yes.He looked more closely.Well, they were at least the same shade of tan.Close enough.He sat on the bed and stared at his feet.The damned split in his toe was bleeding again.He should really tape that.
“Tyler?”
He heard Eli move closer.
“If it's really a date, that shirt’s a crap color for you.I can help you choose something better.Is this another trip to Narnia, or are you finally going out with a guy?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Tyler snapped.
He lifted his head to meet Eli's shocked gaze.
“Why do you care?”Tyler demanded, glad of the anger rising because it was easier to deal with than the alternatives.“You're leaving, right?Another couple of days, maybe a week, you'll have found someplace else to stay.Probably someplace with a guy who wears rainbows on his lapel and sings show tunes.So I can wear any fucking thing I like and it's none of your business.”
Eli took a step back, his hands up.“Holy crap, what crawled up your ass?”
“Go away.”The anger faded as fast as it had risen.“I need to get dressed and you're in my way.”
Eli whirled, strode out and slammed the door between them.Tyler slumped on the bed and stared at the painted wood.Damn it, that wasn't how he'd wanted his last conversation with Eli to go.Althoughlast conversationwas more freaking melodrama, because he really wasn't going to die out there.He would do the press thing and come back and Eli would still be here.For another few days.Maybe a week.Fuck.
Tyler pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.If only.If only he'd realized sooner that the way he felt around Eli was more than just being good buddies.If only he'd had the guts to say something when he had realized that at last.If only he had Eli's arms around him, he might be able to get through tonight without falling apart.
He could picture that version, all hearts and rainbows, sitting at the podium with Eli nearby.Tyler would say, “Leaving the team isn't so hard, because I'm looking forward to spending more time with my boyfriend.”And then he'd look at Eli and Eli would offer his cute smile that flashed just one dimple.Eli's eyes would light up like clear amber with the sun behind it, and Tyler would say, “No more questions.”And then he'd get up and go and hold out his hand to Eli...
But that was all bullshit because Tyler was a fool and a coward.He’d never dare to do that, even if things had gone differently the last month.He'd given up a chance with Eli for fear of what people would say.He'd closed his eyes and refused to give anything in his life the light of day, except the gold ring, the trip to the Olympics, his medal run.Now that dream was ashes, and there was nothing else left.
A small voice in his head asked whether that was true.If he quit, he could think about Eli.Maybe it wasn't too late.Tyler squashed the thought.He remembered Eli's look as he said, “I'm so fucking tired of you.”The man was sick of Tyler and his drama and his risks.If Tyler ended up needing back surgery and a long recovery, he could hardly ask Eli to stick around for that.
He pulled his sock on roughly, and watched the blood soak through the tan fabric.Shit.He whipped it off, dug into his dresser drawer for tape, and did a tight wrap.Good enough.The familiar sting was almost comforting.He dug in the drawer for another tan sock.Not a perfect match, but if the journalists couldn't find something better to write about than his mismatched socks, they could go fuck themselves.
Eli was sprawled in a chair at the kitchen table sipping a beer when Tyler headed for the door.He gave a sour look as Tyler bent to dig a pair of real shoes from the pile of sneakers and running shoes in the closet.“Tyler, what the hell is up with you?If this is a date, from the look on your face I'm guessing that you should probably just ditch the girl right now and hang out with me and the beer.Sorry, soda for you, I know.Coach’s orders.”
Tyler sighed and tugged his shoelace tighter.“I told you it's not a date.”He met Eli's curious gaze.“Look, if you want to know, you can watch ESPN at seven-thirty, all right?”
