“Yeah. Maybe not. I don’t know. I feel weird. Don’t you feel weird?”
Mara didn’t know how to respond to that. She carried low-level discomfort on her like a base layer, so of course she felt weird.
But she didn’t want Kirby to. Maybe she would be able to take Kirby’s mind off the weirdness, to set her at ease and get her back on track.
Mara checked the room to make sure they were alone. She brushed Kirby’s hair behind her ear, and Kirby’s eyes fluttered shut.
Mara followed her fingers with her lips, kissing Kirby’s neck, her jaw. “We can’t do this here, Bonham.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Kirby.KB. Her name, her nickname. They had tasted so good, had felt so good when Mara allowed herself to say them, but she couldn’t right then. She couldn’t be that vulnerable. If Kirby needed to fuck, Mara could do that. If Kirby needed something deeper, she couldn’t.
“Where can we go?” Mara asked, her lips at Kirby’s ear.
Kirby grabbed the back of Mara’s head, gripped it, and kissed her. It was all clashing lips and teeth for a few seconds before Kirby’s incredible finesse kicked in, and she slowed way down. It was bone-quaking, gold-medal kissing.
The best kissing. It was as wonderful as the orgasms they’d shared. It was as wonderful as anything Mara had ever experienced. Aseverythingshe’d experienced.
Kirby backed off and stared at her warily.
“What do you think your life would be like if you hadn’t become a cross-country ski racer?” Kirby asked.
“What? What do you mean?” Mara was still reeling from the kiss. She could hardly breathe, much less talk.
“If your life had zigged rather than zagging. Your parents sign you up for piano lessons instead of ski and voilà.”
“Why are you asking that?”
“God, Mara. It’s called a conversation.” Kirby stood up, ripping herself away from Mara’s greedy hands. “Don’t you ever think about anything besides the competition and winning? Likewhere you’ll enjoy skiing when this whole circus is done chewing us up and spitting us out. Who you would have been without skiing. Who youwillbe without it. I’m trying to make small talk with you.”
Mara had no idea who she was without skiing. Without racing. She would find out soon enough, but she didn’t want to worry about it yet.
“That’s not small, and you know it.”
“Okay, I’m trying to get to know you a tiny bit better.”
“That’s not what…”That’s not what this is. Mara almost said it, but the words stuck in her throat. “I’d probably have married my high school boyfriend, had some kids, lived up in the fancy houses on the hillside in Anchorage. He’s a cosmetic dentist now.”
“You’d have such pretty veneers.”
“Yes.”
“Do you even like men?”
“Not particularly, no.”
Kirby laughed, and it made Mara feel way too happy to make her smile. It wasn’t good for Mara to be so invested in Kirby’s laugh, in her happiness, her joyful smile.
“I don’t want to talk about stuff like this,” Mara said.
“Why?”
“We need to focus.Ineed to focus.”
“And talking to me in an empty locker room is really cramping your intentionality, momentum, and rhythm? Or whatever nonsense buzz words you drop in interviews.”
“Yeah, Bonham. It kind of is.”
