“Fancy finding you here, socializing with the peasants,” Kirby said in her ear, lips brushing the soft hair that had escaped the severe ponytail.
It was unusual for Mara to attend team-building shit. She had always chosen to hold herself apart from the team.
Mara patted Kirby’s back lightly twice and pulled away, all sharp angles.
“I’m not the one too busy in Hollywood to show up for training, Bonham,” Mara said so quietly Kirby was sure no one else could hear.
A zip of excitement raced through Kirby. As much as she hated to admit it, she loved when Mara deigned to acknowledge her. It usually only happened on the podium.
“But I was doing something really important, you see,” Kirby said, purposefully pitching her voice at a normal volume. “My ex and I had to have a public spat for money.”
“How nice for you. Love is so important,” Mara said, deadpan.
“You think?” As far as Kirby knew, Mara didn’t do relationships. Mara didn’t date other skiers at least. Because that rumor mill would have been milling.
The glare Mara gave her could have iced over a hot tub. They had known each other for practically half their lives, floating through the same orbit but never friends. Mara was one step above everyone else, but especially Kirby. Better mannered, more disciplined, more conventional.
Mara had acted like Kirby didn’t exist until four years ago.
Now she would never forget.
“Where am I sitting?” Kirby asked the table, letting Mara’s dirty look have the last word.
Mara turned away from her and back to the conversation she had been having with one of the only other Olympic veterans on the team, Lindsey McGrath. Lindsey blew Kirby a kiss. It would be Lindsey’s second Olympic Games. She was a steady presence on the team. Unflappable. Anti-drama. Legitimately nice. She showed up, did her job, enjoyed her time, and stayed out of the spotlight.
Kirby was sure Lindsey and Mara were talking about skiing rather than something interesting, so she wasn’t jealous or upset at being forced to move to the empty chair on the other side of the table beside Jordan.
Kirby chatted with Jordan, who she was rooming with in Oberhof, answering Jordan’s questions about the Opening Ceremony, Olympic Village, and the crowds in Beijing and Pyeongchang. It would be Kirby’s third Olympics, and she wished it felt like old hat.
But it didn’t. It never stopped being overwhelming, stressful, and life-changing.
“What are you most excited about?” Kirby asked Jordan, which sent her on a chatty, adorable monologue. Kirby listened with half an ear, her gaze straying to Mara because she couldn’t help it. They were around each other all the time but never in social settings. Mara was smiling so kindly at Lindsey. So different than the way she looked at Kirby. When she lowered herself enough to bother to look at Kirby.
“I know I won’t medal, but I can’t wait?—”
“Hold up,” Kirby said, interrupting Jordan. “Why do you think you won’t medal?”
“Well…” Jordan kind of flailed her hands around. “We more or less know who is going to challenge in each race.”
“No.” Kirby stopped her again. “You don’t. The relay team won a silver medal in the last Olympics, and absolutely no one believed in us before that race started. You never know who might race the best race of their life.”
She didn’t even mention her gold in the thirty kilometer. She was just as proud, if not prouder, of the relay silver.
Kirby glanced across the table. Mara was stock still, like she’d been frozen by a spell. Lindsey spoke, and Mara seemed to snap out of it to nod, but her posture was sharper than it had been before.
Mara had on little heart earrings that were the exact same color as her dress. Her aesthetic was…something else. So cutesy and playful for someone who was cold as ice. The perfect cover. The perfect mask for the princess of cross-country skiing.
She looked approachable but wasn’t. Looked sweet but wasn’t. And she was likely going to win one, if not two or more, gold medals in a few weeks’ time.
Kirby needed to listen to her own pep talk, but it was hard not to feel like the writing was on the wall. She’d had a tough season so far, barely squeaking out some of the Olympic starting spots on her best events. And last season hadn’t been much better. Setback after setback. Distraction after distraction. Training disrupted by filming. Focus disrupted by fame. She loved it and hated it.
But once the Olympics were over, what would happen to Kirby? Would she be a washed-up skier with zero outside skills? A C-list celebrity? Or something else entirely?
Kirby turned back to Jordan, but her vision was suddenly doingthat thing. The wavy-around-the-edges thing.
Her heartbeat thumped double time, a loud clamber in her chest.
Not again.
