“Cal,” he whispered into my hair, his arms cinching around me just a little bit tighter.
For once, I didn’t have the willpower to let go, the dream of having him and everything that meant taking over my mind and outweighing any form of structured thinking.
Nik took the lead, pulling me away from him, but keeping his hands on the upper half of my arms.
My smile was goofy—I could feel it—and the cool skin of my arms heated through the fabric of my shirt at his touch.
“How was it?” he asked, genuinely happy for me and my accomplishments. I could tell in the size of his eyes and the way they pulled me in as if on the business end of a lasso.
I shrugged my answer because that’s all I could do.
It hadn’t been bad, and it hadn’t been good. It’d been pretty damn neutral.
“I made a friend,” I offered, hoping to touch on something positive rather than dampening the conversation.
“You?” he fake-scoffed, shaking a hand out in front of him and squinting one eye. “Friendly?”
“Stop,” I told him with a playful shove. “I’m all kinds of friendly.”
He raised just one skeptical eyebrow.
“Okay, so I actually made a friend by being the direct opposite of friendly.”
His eyebrow descended to normal and then pulled in nice and tight, his confusion understandable.
“Jillian—”
“Kristone?”
I nodded. “Yeah. She’s a real pain in the ass. Kind of like you. Poking and prodding and making fun of me every chance she gets.”
He smiled and I mirrored it.
“So she was awesome?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, my smile growing with each bounce of my nod. “She reminded me of you. Less philosophical speeches though.”
“You love my speeches,” he insisted and I did.
Not necessarily at the time he was giving them, but eventually.
“Nik—” I started as a fidget took residence in his body. His hands came together and apart and his feet bounced just slightly up onto his toes. His eyes were pleading and demanding, the way they always were when he really wanted me to listen.
“Tell me we don’t have to stay here today, Cal,” he breathed out finally, looking from me to the gym floor and back again. “I just want a few hours of you and me and nothing else in between. I don’t want it to be about gymnastics or your parents or the things we want or don’t want or can't have. I just want it to be me and you.”
His hands tightened into fists as he forced out another breath. “But I understand if the answer is no, okay? I know you want time and distance until you finish this…maybe even after. I don’t know. And I know how important this is for you—”
But it wasn’t.
I’d made him feel that, even amidst the confusion and unknowns and fear and freak-outs, but the truth was, I realized in the scheme of things, a third Olympics wasn’t all that important to me at all.
It was important to my dad and my mom and all of the gymnasts who looked up to me in the world. It was important to the media because my age made me a sensationalized story, and it was important to my National teammates.
But the only part important about it to me was finishing what I started and giving it the best I had to give.
By my standards, I was allowed a few hours to myself.
And in my mind now, anything that included me, included Nik too.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I broke in, sparing him the expense of telling me everything was okay that wasn’t.
Happiness overtook his face, all of the lines and curves of its structure so much more exposed now that he’d gotten rid of the hair.
Short spikes shot up from the top, and the sides were clipped tight to the frame of his trim face.
Hammers beat out a rhythm in my chest as we turned toward the door and ran, his hand reaching out to take mine just before we reached the exit.
Somehow, the moment of caring about everyone else had passed and all that mattered was touching him, holding his hand, feeling the connection I so desperately craved.
I never looked back as we hit fresh air, the morning sun shining directly into my eyes the entire way to his motorcycle.
I curved my free hand around my eyes for protection but never slowed until we got there.
He handed me the spare helmet nearly immediately, shoving his own on his head and climbing astride the bike in what felt like record time.
I waited for his okay before climbing on behind him and settling into his back, the warm scent of his skin and laundry detergent rushing into my nose with each inhale.
He felt like heaven in my arms, and I made sure to let myself experience it. The body heat and life that pulsed through all of his visible veins and the way he crowded me back when I pushed into him.
I didn’t hold back or hold out or try to keep myself contained. Instead, I let my heart bleed all over the white of his cotton, staining it with red marks of love and lust and admiration.
Because I did admire him. Who he was, how he acted, and his consideration for others.
Nik was a great person, no matter what category of relationship he was to me.
He’d been through enough in his life, but he put other people first without question and never belittled a feeling or circumstance.
If you felt it, Nik understood it—or did his very best to get to that place.
His back pushed back into my chest and cheek as we rode out of the parking lot, so I turned my head and touched the back of his shirt with my lips.
They pressed to his body firmer and firmer as I lingered there, the decreasing speed of our drive forcing my body forward and into his.
We were only a couple of blocks from the gym when he pulled over into a parking lot and shut off the engine. I was curious, but he didn’t give me long to wonder, prompting me to climb off, pulling off my helmet and his own and slamming his lips into mine.
My breath left me in a whoosh as I sank into the feeling, a humming buzz turning my mind to drunken chaos.
His lips felt like the answers to every question I’d been asking, every emotion I’d been missing.
He filled my half-full heart up to bursting, taking his time, twisting and turning his head, and sinking deeper and deeper into my mouth and my mind.
No fervor seemed great enough as I tried to match his tongue stroke for stroke, the way his hands skirted down my body bringing the rest of me alive.
Thumbs pulled at the skin of my cheeks as he leaned into me, pulling my face toward him first, and then moving his hands to my hips to pull in my body when it didn’t automatically follow.
Breath left my lungs in pants, the supply of oxygen dwindling more and more as time without air passed.
“Nik,” I whispered as I pulled back and gulped in a fresh dose of life-sustaining nothingness.
His forehead landed on mine immediately, and his ragged breathing outdid mine.
“I missed you, Cal. More than seems right or necessary, but it’s true. I don’t know how it got this bad, but apparently I’m my very own version of Danny Zuko.”
I shook my head against his, not understanding virtually any of the words he was spewing.
My head still spun from adrenaline and lust, and I probably wouldn’t be able to make sense of anything for the next few minutes. But that didn’t stop him from attempting to explain.
“The bad boy’s long gone, and the hopelessly devoted version has taken his place.”
“I don’t think you were ever bad,” I argued, missing the point completely by focusing on the first part of his statement rather than the last. He was just as lost in me as I was in him, completely willing to leave behind the person he was in order to become the person he was when we were together. It was a humbling notion and one I wanted to recreate within myself.
“I was never a hothead,” he justified, “but I sure as hell wasn’t good.”