“Toddlers feel joy when they see bubbles. What a ridiculous thing to ask.”
“Winning a gold won’t make you whole,” Kirby whispered like she was telling Mara a really important secret.
If Mara had been a cartoon, smoke would have been billowing out her ears. She looked like she was about to rip the walls down around them, too worked up to even speak.
“Why are you playing by their rules? Following their scripts?” Kirby asked. She was going to control her own story this time. “You’ve already proven yourself, princess. Maybe you can let yourself have a little bit of fun. Maybe we both can.”
Kirby couldn’t help it. She touched a lock of Mara’s dark hair that had fallen over her shoulder. Mara sucked in a sharp breath, turned on her heels, and walked away.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Kirby sether phone up to record her, Apollo, and Lindsey to see who could do the most pullups. She and Lindsey were doing theirs with a fifty-pound weight tied to their waists, and she would post the video later that day.
Kirby knew where her bread was buttered. It wasn’t in gold medals. It wasn’t with US Ski and Snowboard or whatever narrative they had wanted to drum up about her and Mara May.
To them, Kirby was the villain. The class clown who had unexpectedly squeaked out a gold four years ago in the biggest upset in years.
She didn’t train as hard as Mara. She didn’t take herself, or skiing, as seriously. She lived a very fulfilling life outside of skiing. She didn’t keep her mouth—or legs—shut. Or her queerness quiet. Or her opinions to herself.
And worst of all, she kept baiting Mara into lowering herself to Kirby’s level.
But it felt pretty nice down at Kirby’s level.
“Jesus, Kirby, why did you insist on filming this?” Apollo gritted out as they all pulled themselves up in unison, and Kirby snapped back into the moment. She had to stop thinking about Mara freaking May.
Apollo was going to drop first, which made every competitive bone in Kirby’s body sing.
He let go of the bar and landed on his feet. Lindsey laughed and did one more rep before dropping as well. Kirby could practically see the comment section in her head as she did another rep for good measure before lowering herself carefully to the ground. Apollo helped her down and disconnected the weight from around her waist.
She leaned toward the camera, grinned, and made a funny face with her tongue sticking out. She would cut the video there.
She tried to make a video or a post every day to stay in the headlines and to keep the algorithms working for her. She didn’t enjoy the social media aspect as much as being on television shows, but she did it for the money.
“I actually need to work out now,” Lindsey said. It had been nice of her to do a video for Kirby. Lindsey was notoriously private. Her socials weren’t even public.
“Sure, sure.” Kirby gave her a hug. “Thanks for humoring me.”
Lindsey smiled at Apollo, and he watched her walk away.
They were the only three in the weight room, which was odd. It was rare to get alone time. Kirby had been to the training center in Oberhof a million times since it was one of the US team’s main European training hubs. It was just as much her home as anywhere else, which was to say, it meant nothing to her.
Apollo threw his arm over her shoulder. His tatted arm was heavy, and his skin stuck to hers. She was in shorts and a sports bra. They were both glistening from their warm-up run.
Tattoos. Bare skin. Sweat. Thirst for attention.
Hello to her bread and butter.
“All right, what’s wrong with you?” Apollo asked.
“What? Nothing.”
“Seriously, KB? You’ve been weird since you got back from LA. You don’t usually ghost me.”
She gritted her teeth. She hadn’t told him about the interview.
Or about all the weirdness with Mara. That felt like a special little secret.
