Jackson laughed behind him. “Nah, don’t need a race for that. You’re a sure thing, aren’t you, Princess?”
Elliot bristled at the name Jackson hadn’t used since that first night, before they’d been anything, but his body disagreed with his head’s reaction.
Jackson was still speaking, though, as he caught up to him. He fell into step with Elliot, so naturally it felt almost symbolic. “I want a retraction.”
“A retraction?”
He could see the grin on Jackson’s face in his mind as he heard the reply. “When I beat you back to the track, I want you to tell the whole world how much faster than you I am and how much Ideserve my spot on the Olympic team, and how wrong you were about me and my dedication to the sport.”
“Is this still about what I said after Copenhagen?” Elliot asked, his focus broken. He hadn’t thought the other man was still affected by it at all, but apparently that wasn’t true. He felt kind of…bad about it. But still, a retraction? His father would never allow it. It would be like dredging up ancient history.
“That, and all your other little digs over the past few years.”
“I thought we were past that.”
Jackson hummed. “Past it? You get past a bad race, not being called a cheat in front of the whole world.”
Elliot looked away. “Right.”
Jackson didn’t say anything, and the silence dragged on as they ran. Elliot could feel the sting behind his ribs. He’d apologised; he’d tried to make it right. Hethoughthe had. He’d wrongly assumed that if Jennings was willing to touch him, to kiss him like he was something precious, then he must have been forgiven. But maybe some things couldn’t be fixed.
He forced humour into his tone. “Guess I should be grateful you’re still talking to me at all.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Ell. I’m not still angry, I just… These things follow you, you know? I'm still being pulled in forrandomtesting at every major. It’d be nice to clear the air.” Jackson was running beside him now. He bumped his shoulder lightly. “Besides, you don’t have to do it if you beat me.”
“I’m not racing you. I’m injured.”
“Aw, poor little princess. You promised you were fine, though. So, which is it? Are you injured, or is it cause you don’t think you can win?”
“Fuck you, Jennings.”
“Later, if you’re lucky,” Jackson replied as he took off, stride lengthening and changeover picking up as he darted around Elliot on the narrow trail.
The bloody cheat.
“What do I get if I win?” Elliot shouted after him as he pushed his pace up, not letting Jackson gain too much of a lead.
“Anything you want,” Jackson laughed.
Elliot grinned as they ran through the forest, relieved by Jackson’s return to his usual cheerful self. They kept pace with each other the whole way around. As the trail opened up and the forest gave way to the grassy banks of the lake, he knew it was time to make his move. If there was one thing he knew about racing against Jackson Jennings, it was that he always started too fast, and his finishing kick could never quite match Elliot’s. Elliot wasn’t above taking advantage of that. He pushed himself harder, racing full-out now towards the track where he had no doubt Anders would scold them for deviating from the training plan he’d explicitly laid out for the day.
The lake was glassy with a faint ripple from the breeze as they raced past, and the snow-capped peaks gleamed white against the brightening sky. Jackson held his own next to him until they were about a hundred metres out, then Elliot shot him a sunny smile as he really turned on the gas, sprinting over the manicured grass to the middle of the athletics track.
As he slowed to a jog, he turned to Jackson, who was seconds behind him. The adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him reckless enough to grab him and kiss the bemused expression off his face. Almost.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Anders’s voice rang out through the calm of the midday lull in activity. “This is your peak week, not a school sports day.”
Elliot withered at the criticism.
Jackson stepped in. “Sorry. Old rivalry. You know how it is.”
Anders let out a long-suffering sigh. “Coaching at this level was meant to be less of a headache than college kids.”
“Oh, don’t be like that, Coach,” Jackson said with a smile, his audacity shocking Elliot. “We’ve got our eyes on the prize; you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Elliot was alternating glancing between the two with staring down at the grass in the hopes of keeping Anders’s attention off of him. He was pleased he’d won, despite Anders’s ire. But the thought of Jackson’s request had settled in his chest. He owed it to him, and he knew it. Even if they weren’t doing, well, whatever they were doing, they were teammates now. Sort of.
