“Don’t be mad that I can body check better than you,” I say with a grin.
He holds up two hands, giving me the middle finger on each.
“Fuck you, Callahan,” he laughs.
We head into our bedrooms to change for the dining hall. Everything that wasn’t brought with me is already here, and I put on my Team USA hockey gear, so everyone knows where I belong. It’s what you do while you’re here, representing not only your sport, but your country too. That’s what this is about—country and sport pride.
As much as I love representing the USA, I feel like Connor and I look like two matching marshmallow idiots as we walk down the hall together and head to the dining hall. But at least we won’t be the only ones—and the clothes are warm, which I guess is the point.
The food smells amazing, but I’ve heard mixed reviews on it. Some of it is good, some of it sucks. Then there’s that guy who was obsessed with those chocolate muffins from Paris, and it makes me wonder if I’ll fall in love with something like that while I’m here too. Vancouver isn’t known for its food the way Paris is, and stranger things have happened.
The smell and noise get to me first. It’s not loud, but there is a lot of chatter from the teams grouped together—and in many different languages. I recognize a few athletes, like snowboarder Skeet Mathers, who is likely to take home the gold this year. I also spot a few hockey players I’ve played with over the years who are representing the Canadian team.
“Where is everyone else?” I ask.
“Watching some of the games. I told them I’d be waiting for you.”
“You could have gone with them,” I say.
“Nah, it’s fine. We’ll hang out tomorrow, after morning skate.”
We don’t have much time here to practice together as a team, so it’s important we do that as often as we can. If we want to win, we need to mesh well together, and some of these guys don’t get along otherwise. It should be an interesting two weeks.
Chapter Two
Nico
“I can’t believe we’re at the Olympics!” Étienne shouts, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. The Village is beautiful, spacious, showy—everything you’d expect it to be.
“I don’t know why you’re excited. All you’ll be doing is watching. I’m the one who gets to perform.” I grin, placing my hands under my chin and batting my lashes.
He narrows his eyes, growling playfully. “You’re too mean to be so talented.”
“It’s my cross to bear.”
Étienne rolls his eyes and continues walking. Athletes I never thought I’d dream of meeting jog by, their breath causing fog in the cold air, ear buds blasting something that’s keeping themgoing. I’m vibrating with excitement. Finally, my dream to be at the Olympics has come true.
“What are we doing first?” Étienne asks excitedly.
“Well, I should probably get to my room and put my things away. You should do the same.”
“But this is all so exciting!” he says, looking around. “I mean, look at that!” He points to the Italian flag hanging from one of the balconies. “And that one!”
There are flags proudly hanging off balconies, showing the team’s pride but also which countries are in which buildings.
I bet this is overwhelming for a lot of people but I’m too excited to be nervous. I’m ready to compete and take home the gold.
“Fine,Rabat-joie.” Étienne uses the nickname he gave me when I started ice skating at the age of three, and ever since, I’ve wanted to do nothing else. It’s his endearing way of saying I’m a buzzkill and no fun.
“Keep it up and I’ll fire you.” I grin at him.
“You can’t.”
“Uh, yes I can. You work for me, asmypersonal assistant.”
“Oh please, as if your mama would let that happen.”
“She’s not here, is she?” I retort, a pang hitting my chest.
