“Yeah.” Kirby didn’t exactly regret it. The podcast had been the morning after their hookup, and she’d chosen to talk about Mara as if she hadn’t just secretly had sex with her. It would have made zero sense if she’d acted all polite. And she hadn’t said anything too terrible.
“Is this what we’re doing now? Slamming each other any chance we get?” Mara snarled.
“Feel free to slam me back. You’re capable of backing it up. And you secretly like being vicious, so let it out, princess.”
Mara had avoided Kirby for days. No eye contact. No smiles. Zero acknowledgment. The usual treatment from her, honestly.
Except they’d fucked.
So this whole interaction was like bizarro world. None of it made sense. Not Mara showing up at her door. Or going straight to Kirby’s bed brandishing her phone like a weapon. Not Mara bearing gifts.
And definitely not Mara stripping her shirt off in one fluid move.
“I want to do things differently this time around. The Olympics, I mean,” Mara said. “I want to enjoy myself. Make friends. Be a good teammate.”
What the actual fuck was happening? If this was Mara being a good teammate, Kirby was a fan.
“Okay,” Kirby said slowly, but Mara wasn’t listening. She was ripping off her socks.
“So I bought Jordan sunglasses. Even though she probably already has some. It’s silly.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m tired of being so… angry and alone.”
“Right.”
“But Ilikebeing angry with you.”
“That’s a bit dysfunctional, Mara May… which is my jam.”
Mara was in nothing but pants and a sports bra. She started to take the pants off, and Kirby finally got herself into gear. Mara had made this decision. To come to Kirby. To take her clothes off for Kirby. An offering. A question.
Kirby stalked around the bed and finished the job for Mara, yanking the pants down. Mara stepped out of them, and stood there, all defiance and discomfort in a bra and panties.
Kirby shoved her back onto the bed. “This what you need, Mara May? A distraction?”
Mara nodded. Her eyes were wide like maybe her actions were catching up with her.
Kirby grabbed her ankle. “A distraction from the very true things I said about you on some podcast with limited reach.”
“It’s going viral.”
Kirby doubted that. Mara just had no idea what viral actually meant.
“Anything else?” Kirby asked. She pressed her lips to Mara’s calf. “Anything else you want a distraction from.”
“My father.”
“Ah, daddy issues. Hot.”
Mara almost—almost—laughed and Kirby almost—almost—felt like she’d won a gold medal all over again.
“What do you want?” Kirby asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you like?”
