“Mr. and Mrs. Lee, I’m Leo Adams. It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Leo, I believe I met your mother a few minutes ago,” Mom says, shaking his hand as well. “She’s lovely.”
“Thanks,” he says and smiles at them and then back to me. “I’ll leave you guys alone. You should celebrate together.”
“No, no, don’t let us interrupt,” Mom cuts in, taking hold of Dad’s arm. “Audrey, we’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast. Text me when you get back to your room with Emma.” And with that, they’re gone, back through the glass doors and disappearing into the party.
Well, that wasn’t exactly subtle, and I close my eyes tightly as my parents walk away.
“Your parents are nice.”
I turn back to him, opening my eyes in shock. “Thanks.” Suddenly, I’m tongue-tied. The conversation flowed so easily before, and now I have no idea what to say.
My phone buzzes, thank God. Glancing at it will make the silence way less awkward. It’s from Emma.
Party! Us & men’s team. Meet me in our room to change!
I look up at Leo, who’s putting his own phone back in his pocket. He smiles at me, and something in my stomach unknots and my shoulders loosen. I should be nervous, but being near him just makes me relax. Is that weird? It feels like it should be weird.
“Do you want to go to a party?”
“I—uh—actually, I can’t. Mom and I are flying out tonight.”
“Oh.” Like everything about seeing him, my disappointment feels totally disproportionate to the amount of time we’ve spent together.
“I can walk you over there, though, if you want?”
“Actually, walk me back to my room? I’m apparently supposed to change out of this.”
“That one you share with Emma?”
We laugh. “Yeah, that one.”
“Sure, let’s go.”
We’re almost entirely silent on the elevator ride up to the seventeenth floor, where most of the NGC is staying. When he reaches out to push the close-door button, the soft scent of whatever body spray he wears floats over me. It’s light and airy and completely suits him. I’ve spent my entire life around guys who smell like gym chalk and sweat. This is a total novelty. When he leans away again, the back of his hand brushes against my arm, and immediately a shiver slips down my spine—the first pleasurable feeling I’ve had in that spot in a long time.
This is nuts.
Is this what dreams coming true feels like? You make the Olympic team and meet a really hot guy who’s into you all in one night? Soak it in, Audrey, because life doesn’t get much better than this.
I’ve nearly gathered up enough courage to say something, anything, though I have no idea what, when the bell dings and the doors open. All the way down the hallway, on the other side of the elevator bay, the deep, pulsing bass of whatever music is playing reverberates in my chest. That must be the party. With a tight smile, I lead Leo out of the elevator car and in the opposite direction from the party, digging into my jacket pocket for my key card.
“This has been …”
“Wild?” he fills in for me, and I laugh.
“Extremely.”
“It was really great seeing you again, Audrey,” he says, and I’m about to respond, but he barrels ahead. “I always … When we were kids, I always kind of had a thing for you.”
“Only when we were kids?” I ask, teasing him just a little, like I have the upper hand, when really, I’m completely freaking out that this is happening. Whatever this is.
“I mean …” He’s rubbing at the back of his neck, but smiling too. “You were pretty smoking with those big hair ribbons and hot-pink leos.”
“That’s an impressive memory.” I lean in a little closer. “Can I tell you something?”
He nods and licks his lips.
I swallow back the intense pang of something underneath my skin and say, “When we were kids, I always kind of had a thing for you too.”
“Yeah?”
“Emma and I used to freak out if we saw your mom’s gym entered in the competition because we knew she’d bring you along.”
We just stand there in silence, letting our mutual confessions settle around us. We wouldn’t have been able to act on it in the past; we were just kids, and neither of us would have had time for a long-distance anything—but now?
His hand reaches out, fingers closing lightly over my wrist. His hand is so much bigger than mine. “Is it okay if I … ?” he asks, gently bending down but hesitating.
For a moment my brain goes haywire, not understanding what he’s asking, but then my eyes meet his and it clicks into place. I nod, and he closes the last inches of distance between us, but before his lips can brush against mine, the door down the hall opens and a wave of sound spills out.
Leo falls forward, his forehead resting against mine, and he exhales. The connection is still there, our eyes locked together, but the moment is over. People are streaming out of the room, and I am not doing this—whatever this is—in front of an audience. He seems to get that without me saying a word, and he pulls back and steps away. My wrist tingles at the loss of contact.
“Damn,” he says, the disappointment clear in his furrowed brow, but then he’s smiling, that confident grin nowhere to be seen, replaced by something almost shy and a little bit sheepish.
I lick my lips—they feel way too dry right now—and he groans in the back of his throat.
I laugh. Not at him, but at the crowd of people still flowing out of the room, making privacy impossible.
He chuckles too. “I really have to go. My flight is in two hours, and my mom will kill me if we miss it,” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Have a safe trip home,” I say, trying to make it a little easier.
It doesn’t work.
“Listen, I know the next few weeks will be insane for you, but we’ll text, okay? And then … I don’t know, come visit me at Stanford or wherever I am with your medals or something. I don’t know. Just—”
“That sounds amazing,” I cut off his ramble.
“Yeah?” he asks, his smile widening in what looks a lot like relief.
“Definitely.”
He’s barely down the hallway when the door behind me swings open and Emma grabs my arm, pulling me into the room. She chucks a ball of what I assume is a dress at my head, and I just barely catch it before it hits me in the face.
“Did he kiss you? I couldn’t see through the peephole.”
I’m not even a little bit outraged. I would have spied too. “Almost,” I say, pulling off my tracksuit and getting out of my leo fast before carefully sliding on the dress. It’s actually one of Emma’s, a light gray mini with small straps at the shoulders and a cutout at the back where it ties together, leaving a diamond of skin exposed.
I turn for her inspection, and she nods before reaching out and adjusting the tie at the back. “Okay, you’re good. And me?” she asks.
Motioning for her to spin around, I assess the gold spangled, almost flapper-style dress she’s in and then I laugh. “Did you seriously give me a silver dress to wear while you wear gold?”