“Yeah, you’re more like a chicken breast and brown rice kind of guy, right?”
“Yes, and you eat big bowls of pasta and lots of lean meat.”
“Sometimes I even eat wholewheat pasta.” He gave Caleb a wink. They’d had a fun time comparing the differences between snowboarding and hockey, how hockey was a long haul up and down the ice kind of game, and it required a ton of stamina and a lot of carb loading. The halfpipe was more about twitch muscles and being able to twist into a pretzel in midair.
He liked Caleb as pretzel, in fact.
“So what did you think, seriously?” He didn’t want to sound like an insecure asshole, and Caleb Lancaster had already told him he was amazing, but he kind of wanted to know what Caleb’s favorite part was.
“Well, I think watching you stretch was orgasmic.”
His cheeks heated a little bit, and he kind of chuckled. “Yeah, well, there’s a reason that some of the lady fans call it the boy aquarium, I guess.”
Caleb hooted. “The boy aquarium. Oh my god, that’s hilarious.”
“Do you get stuff like that too?”
“Sure. There’s a lot of people who hang around the tour just to watch the pretty boys and girls fly through the air, I guess. And there’s always somebody willing to keep me company, you know?” Caleb shrugged. “But most of us just ignore it. I bet you guys do too. We have a job to do, and we’re competitive as fuck, and we don’t want any distractions.”
“Pretty much. Some fans can get a little crazy, but really it’s easy to just sort of slide through and do our thing. Social media is the worst, so I try to stay away from that as much as I can.”
“Anyway, I also loved watching you skate just when you guys were doing laps and doing the eraser race kind of stuff. You’re really, really good at it. I mean, I know you’ve probably been doing it since you were like two, but the one time I tried to ice skate, it was tragic.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re amazing at what you do.”
“Oh fuck yeah, I shred.” Caleb made a little hang tough or hang tight or whatever motion with his fingers.
They grinned at each other and ordered their food, keeping the mutual admiration society going. He honestly liked Caleb. The guy was eminently practical, really down-to-earth, funny, and super deadpan, which was a lot of fun.
And then there was that tight, compact, hot-as-fuck body, and the fact that Caleb was willing to do just about anything with it, in and out of bed.
He had to be careful, or he would start looking for something that wasn’t there. This was just a fling. That was it.
“So, is supreme your favorite kind of pizza?” Caleb asked, clearly in keeping with their no-small talk rule. They were learning about each other, asking pointed questions and non-pointed ones. Hawk could never remember doing that and bonding so quickly with someone in his life.
“I’m actually a pepperoni and mushroom kind of guy, but the supreme sounded really good tonight, and I’m curious to see if it comes out with a Korean twist. What’s your preference?”
“If I’m gonna splurge on pizza, I want the works. I’m with you. A supreme is the way to go. Although I had this one in Rome one time that was Quattro Stagioni, I think they called it. The Four Seasons. It was really yummy.”
“I like Rome.” He’d been there a couple of times. Italy had been one of the first trips he’d taken when he made enough money to travel for pleasure during the summer. And although Rome was kind of a cesspool of humidity and heat in the summer months, it was still so beautiful.
“Oh my god, me too. When I was there the first time, I stayed in this little rental apartment just off the Campo de Fiore. Every time I’d wake up in the morning, they’d be having some kind of a market out there, like a flower market. It smelled like heaven.” Caleb leaned forward over the table, his eyes dancing, his fingers skating over the tabletop like they couldn’t stay still.
All Hawk wanted to do was sit there and watch him, listen to Caleb talk, and soak him in, take what he could get while he could get it.
Caleb seemed just as invested. And Hawk took another long sip of his beer, trying to calm his shit down. They only had a couple of days before the opening ceremonies, and then they would both have to get serious about what they were doing here. Until then, he intended to have a good time, but he also knew that he couldn’t count on it going beyond that. So he really needed to pace himself.
There was no sense in falling for Caleb Lancaster. No sense in it at all.
Caleb stoodabove the edge of the halfpipe, looking down into the bowl of it, mentally running through his routine for his third run of the morning. He liked to visualize everything before he started because that meant he didn't have to think about it. He would just flow from one move to the next to the next.
He had quite a few tough tricks in his bag, maybe not as many as Shaun White, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was performing those tricks cleanly and getting the amplitude out of them that was required at this elite competition level.
He looked all the way down the pipe, picking his spots for his doubles and his 1140s, knowing he had to get this pipe locked in before the competition ever started, even the prelims.
He took another deep breath, let it out through his nose, and then he dropped in.
After that, there was no more thinking. He let his muscle memory take over, and he reacted to the conditions, making sure he was pulling huge air, pushing himself to be as clean as he could. Landing where he needed to land so he could swoosh right into the next trick.