One
PeyongChang, South Korea, 2018
When Hawk Montineaujoined the line at the little noodle shop he’d found just on the edge of the neighborhood where Olympic village sat, he grinned at the man behind the counter, who acknowledged him with a nod. Not far from the high-rises where they were all staying lay a hotbed of street food stands and small restaurants, and he’d found he had a real fondness for buckwheat noodles and also the hotteok, or sweet pancakes, he could get at the stall just next to the noodle shop.
It had taken a few tries to get used to ordering food in Korea. It wasn’t like walking into a fast-food place in the States, where everything was the same, and where he could sit with his headphones on and zone out. He had learned that space was at a premium, right now especially, and he was better off either sitting at the tiny counter insteadof trying to get a table or getting it to go so he could wander and slurp at the same time.
While it was cold in PyeongChang this time of year, it had nothing on some of the places he’d played in Canada, or in like, Finland, where he’d gone for a competition once. In his decent coat and boots, he could even go sit in a park and eat.
He stuck his hands in his pockets while he waited, because the shop was small, and the door kept opening and closing, but he’d taken off his gloves to check his phone.
The door opened again, and cold air hit the back of his neck, but he couldn’t really go anywhere. Someone stepped into the line behind him, a little too close, because the door had to be able to open, so he shifted sideways slightly to allow more space.
Hawk knew he was a big guy. A lot larger than most of the Korean people around him. And he had a larger personal bubble than even most of his fellow American athletes. But the person behind him bumped him, like, three times, and he wanted to glare a little.
He didn’t. It was considered seriously rude.
But then the door opened again, and the guy behind him went, “Ooph,” and staggered into him, jabbing him in the right kidney with what felt like a smart phone.
“Ugh!” He didn’t really stagger, but damn, that stung.
“Shit! Shit, sorry. Uh…” The guy had to be another American with that accent.
Hawk turned around and saw a fellow athlete, one he recognized right away. Caleb Lancaster was a superstar snowboarder with a shit-ton of X Games wins, a bunch of World Cup titles, and a good chance at a gold here at the Olympics.
The person who had knocked them together skirted around them, hurrying to cut in line, and Jake’s eyebrows flew up. “Dude, I think you just got body-checked by a monk.”
Lancaster’s face split into a wicked grin, his white teethflashing in his scruffy jaw. “No kidding? Man, that’s lowering.”
“Yep.” He moved up in line when another cashier waved the people in front of him forward. “Caleb Lancaster, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” Caleb blinked at him, bright blue eyes searching his face.
“Hawk Montineau. Hockey. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice. I knew I knew your face.” They moved up one in the line.
“Yeah. So you excited?” Hawk felt super-awkward, but it was nice to talk to a fellow Olympian who wasn’t one of his teammates. Oh, they were all in the village, and they could chat all they wanted in the dining hall and shit, but that was the thing. There was no chance for any kind of quiet or real conversation, and Hawk kind of needed the downtime.
He was way more of a one-on-one guy.
“Focused, actually.” Caleb’s cheeks went pink. “I spread myself thin by doing all the events I could do at Worlds last year, and I partied some with the other athletes. So now, I’m focusing on the pipe, you know? And I’m in the best shape of my life.”
Hawk had to agree there. Caleb Lancaster was compact, but he had that tight musculature which spoke of hard work and a body tuned into its particular sport. And it was a hot-as-fuck little body besides. Not that he was letting himself look as much as he wanted to, because was the guy even old enough to drink?
Okay, he wasn’t too far off that at his whopping twenty-three, but damn.
“That’s cool. I’m kind of psyched because I got to come out and play this year.” He winked, then waved for Caleb to order before him as they reached the counter.
“Thanks.” Caleb grinned some more, then ordered anoodle cup. “And whatever you want, huh? I’ll buy you brunch.”
“Thanks.” That was cool. He pointed to the menu, and the guy at the counter grinned and nodded.
“Everyone is so damn nice, huh?” Caleb pulled out a few bills to pay.
“Seriously. Though I got to tell you, my French does me absolutely no good here.” He chuckled. “I learned a few words, but Korean is so tonal I’m afraid I’ll screw up.”
Caleb chuckled as they moved aside to wait for their drinks. “Yeah. My Spanish is pretty useless here, too.”