Instead, he mutters, “Maybe the space is good…”
“Why’d you stop me from leaving before?” The harshness in my voice is enough of a jab but I have to add, “Just say you want me gone!”
“I do want you here, Roderick,” he says, defeated. “That’s why I stopped you from leaving. That’s why I agreed to those annoying rules. I thought, if this is what it takes to be with him, it’s worth it. If I don’t say yes, if I let him walk out that door—I’ll lose him.”
He stands up. I lift my chin, expecting us to kiss and makeup and fall into bed. “We both have things we need to focus on.” He places a firm hand on my shoulder. Good luck at Nationals.”
Chapter
Seventeen
Of all theISU banquets I’ve been to, this one is by far the most overwhelming. Everyone wants to congratulate me, offering me no space to go talk to the other skaters. I’m going to the Olympics with several of them, but instead of asking them about their plans, I’m stuck with two ISU judges.
“It is so delightful to watch a skater mature,” an old Dragonfolk woman titters, looking to the other judge. “I remember when you won silver at your first Juniors and thought, well I can’t wait to see what he does next.”
I do my best not to squirm, thinking about how many years she’s been scrutinizing me.
“I’m glad I’ve met your expectations,” I say before sipping at my sparkling grape juice.
It’s disgustingly sweet, like the jungle juices they serve at frat parties. Everyone returned to campus while I competed at Nationals. Which worked out, since I avoid social media more than usual before competition. Normally I don’t get FOMO seeing people partying, but this winter break has been especially isolating. Besides Christmas day with my family, everything has been rink time with interviews and promos squeezed in between skates.
Christos hasn’t messaged me once.
Neither has Terrence, and he always sends me those hypersexual holiday copypastas with so many emojis I think my phone is going to explode. No message telling me to jingle my balls or pop my champussy at midnight. I haven’t had the heart to text Leroy and Marcus to see if they got theirs.
The other ISU judge pulls me from my wallowing.
“You do push against those expectations.” His eyes narrow. “Will you be keeping that costume for the Olympics?”
I almost drop my drink. The debut for my new program was fantastic. Sure, I stumbled on my final quad, but the crowd loved it. Clearly the judges didn’t hate it despite my screw up right at the end. Far from my personal best, but I'm okay with that. Or I was… How many points would I have gotten if I wore something more traditional? Less queer. Less me.
“I will be.” My voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t leave any room for doubt. “I want to give them something to remember.”
“It would be a lovely exhibition skate.” His tone makes it clear this isn’t an offer.
Thankfully Maude slips in, exchanging hugs and cheek kisses with both judges who promptly gush all over her. She’s earned this; I wouldn’t be here without her guidance or support. The judge never asks her about my costume. Eventually he wanders off to go be a ghoul to some other Olympian.
Maude stands beside me and rubs my back. “Hey, remember what we talked about?”
“Remind me again.”
“This isyourmoment.” She looks out over the party of skaters, judges, and press. “They’re just catching your sunbeams. What are your plans?”
“Um, I thought you had that worked out.” I stare at the bottom of my champagne glass, watching the never-ending bubbles float. “All the interviews and sponsors and stuff…”
“I mean for celebrating! We both know this isn’t how you unwind. What book are you reading right now?”
I roll my neck with a groan, although that’s the one part of my body that isn’t feeling sore. “I started a classic. Hated it. Picked up a romance. The dialogue was cringe. Tried a fantasy. It was trite.”
“Peitie tamia,” she says with the cadence of a curse word.
“Hang on—” I notice Alex tucked away in a corner. Her red hair is done up with pearls and wearing a satin dress, the same olive-green tone as her skin. All of it is outdone by her bitter expression. “I gotta—”
“Go,” Maude is now looking at Alex with the face of a concerned mother. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
I’m not sure what we’ll be discussing. It’s not like Ineeda pep talk My scores prove that.
As I approach Alex, she pushes off the wall, exiting the banquet and entering the hallways of the hotel. I haven’t gotten a chance to complement her on her program. The emotion in her short and free programs was so raw. Sometimes it hurt to watch, but looking away was way harder. She also popped half her jumps in her free skate, missing the required program elements.