In addition to being a liar, I’m also a hypocrite. Because the group moves on to discussing other subjects after the waitress leaves, but I’m still thinking about a boy.
“I love you, Caldy,” Savannah announces loudly, throwing her arms around my neck. Nearly toppling me.
I steady myself by grabbing the railing, then pat her back with my other hand. “Love you too, Sav. Drink some water before bed, okay?”
“Mmhmm. Yep. Water. Great idea.” Savannah releases me and hustles after Mallory, Reyna, and Tasha, who are waiting in the hallway. She leaps on Tasha’s back right as the elevator doors slide shut.
I laugh, then yawn. The doors open again on my floor, and I head down the carpeted hallway. I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s late. The hallway is quiet and empty.
My steps slow as I near the door I saw Otto enter earlier.
Bad idea, my brain blares in warning.Keep walking.
I do keep walking, but only until I reach his door. There, I end up stopping. Knocking. It’s like I’m in a fugue state. I know I shouldn’t be doing this—I can’t believe that I’m doing this—yet my knuckles are tapping wood.
A flash of panic strikes like a lightning bolt, splitting the surreal, but I don’t have time to bolt before the door swings open.
Oh.
Ohno.
For a split second, I truly consider running, like this was a childish prank. But I’m frozen, staring.
“You couldn’t put some clothes on before answering the door?”
Otto leans a shoulder against the doorway, his eyes doing a slow sweep of my body. It’s like the time he glanced at my boobs, but a thousand times worse. We’re alone, a bed is nearby, and I downed two celebratory margaritas.
“I did.”
Did—oh. Right. He slept—sleeps—naked.
I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry for the action to accomplish much of anything.
I look at him, and he looks back at me, and I wonder what he’d do if I kept walking—right into his room. Would he tell me to leave? Say it was inappropriate? Touch me?
I have more on the line. His time here is temporary. This is my team. My career. My reputation.
He had six years to reach out, and he never did. I’m mad about that. Madder that I want to walk into his hotel room anyway.
“Claire?” His voice is soft.
I shake my head. “Sorry, I?—”
“Do not apologize. Not to me.”
“I just—” I swipe my dry lips with my tongue, and Otto tracks the motion.
I recognize the expression on his face, and my muscles quiver with the effort of staying rooted in place. I want to be closer. This isn’t near enough. I want him on me.Inme. He ruined sex for me, setting a standard no one else has managed to reach.
I could sneak out early.
No one would know, except us.
I didn’tknowit was the last time, our final?—
The memory hits with a tangible impact. I step back, away from it, the pain as visceral as it was then. I’m incapable of casual sex with Otto. I learned that lesson already. Won the heartbreak trophy and left Paris without a gold medal.
Nothing’s changed since then. He’s headed back to Germany—again. That’s always been the case—will always be the case—so I resent how often I’ve had to remind myself of it.
