“Excuse me?” Mara snapped, so polite even though politeness had flown out the window long ago.
“That’swhere I’m going. You asked. I’m going to find a hot, willing athlete in peak physical condition who also needs to burn off nerves and excitement and stress.”
“But—” Mara seemed to glitch. She was frozen and looked so confused.
“But what?”
“We’re not done.”
“Mara May, unless you’re finally gonna finger fuck me in this hallway, we are definitely done.”
Mara’s eyes went wide, and her gaze strayed to Kirby’s mouth for a beat. Then a longer one. Then it was like her brain came back online and she snarled, “Why do you have to be so crass? I meant we aren’t done competing. We still have a week until the Olympics and over three weeks until our events end.”
“So?”
“You’re going to start some type of relationship right now?” Mara said, her words tumbling over each other. “It will interfere with?—”
“I find it very adorable you think I’m about to go have a grand romance. Trust me. It’s just going to be hot and meaningless.”
“We have training in three hours.”
Kirby stepped back and shrugged. She couldn’t believe Mara was even still there, engaging. “Again, I say, so?”
“You’ll ruin your?—”
“Appetite? I doubt that. It’s pretty healthy.”
“I was going to sayfocus.”
“Ah. Worrying about your competition? How sweet,” Kirby said.
“I’m not sweet, and?—”
“Oh, I know.”
“—you’re not my competition.”
Kirby had been feeling so smug. She hadn’t expected something quite that cutting.
Mara continued, “When was the last time you raced a personal best? Hit a personal goal? When was the last time you cared more about winning than your follower count and TV appearance fees? Do you really think you can touch me? Or the podium?”
Kirby felt like she’d been punched. It wasn’t any worse than the things she’d goaded Mara into saying in the past, but it did get to a particularly hidden piece of her heart. The fear that shehadpeaked in Beijing. That it was all a fluke. That she didn’t actually belong and never would
“Touch you, huh?” Kirby said, her voice low. She was more pissed than she had any right to be. “What an interesting turn of phrase you chose there, Mara May.”
Mara shook her head in exasperation. Or maybe denial.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Kirby whispered when Mara didn’t respond.
“What does?”
“Being nasty.”
“I’m not?—”
Kirby laughed, and Mara’s mouth snapped shut.
“Maybe I won’t medal. Or beat you. But at least I’m in charge of my own life. And I’ll have fun. Fun skiing. Fun getting famous. Fun fucking. Fun fucking with you. When was the last time you felt true, unbridled joy, Mara? Do you ever let yourself be happy?”
