“Did you know Claire’s here?”
That worked like a charm.
Mom brightened. “Claire Tyson?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, I always liked Claire.”
I groaned. “Everybodylikes Claire.”
“Well, that’s because she’s delightful.” Mom leaned back with a smile. “Also, I should tell you—I’ve become extremely well informed about your Olympic social life.”
My stomach dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”
She laughed at my expression. “One of my students follows everything happening here.” Her mouth twitched. “Kyle Gordon. He’s seventeen, way too dramatic, and deeply invested in figure skating gossip.”
“Oh my God.”
“He’s been showing me updates for days.” She raised her eyebrows. “Did you know there are entire social media compilations of you looking emotional in Italy?”
Heat climbed into my face. “Mom.”
“What?” She seemed delighted. “Apparently the internet finds you very compelling right now.”
I dragged a hand over my face. “I don’t wanna know.”
“Oh, I think you do. Because this will amuse the hell out of you.” Her grin widened. “Kyle showed me one post that said—and I quote—‘Every time Foster looks at Davorin he acts like he’s in the finalscene of a romance movie.’ Or maybe not those exact words, but you get the idea.”
I nearly inhaled my own tongue.
Mom burst out laughing.
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
“There was another one about eye contact violating international law.”
“Pleasestop talking. I’m begging you.”
She was cackling now, tears gathering in her eyes. “Dean William Foster, are you blushing?”
“No.”
“Oh, dear Lord, you are.”
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling while she recovered enough to sip her coffee.
The terrifying thing was I’d seen the posts. All of them. The jokes. The edits. The speculation. At first it had seemed ridiculous, then funny… and then increasingly dangerous.
Mom set her cup down, still smiling. “About this Luka Davorin…” Her tone was way too casual.
Every muscle in my body became hyperaware. “What about him?”
“Oh, nothing.” Her tone stayed light, but I knew her too well. “He seems important to you.”
I forced myself to shrug. “We became friends here.” There was a knot in my belly. It wasn’t a lie, not really.
It just wasn’t the whole truth.
