Chapter 16
Adonis
The next few weeks were very busy. September and October weren’t as competition-heavy for the figure skating club, but as far as Anamária was concerned, that meant they should double down on their training.
Adonis’s mornings were spent on the ice, followed by back-to-back classes every day.
Afternoons sometimes meant more ice time on days the hockey team didn’t need the Rink.
On days without afternoon skating practice, the team focused on off-ice conditioning: stretches, strength training, recovery exercises, and choreography.
By the time Adonis shoveled a late protein-heavy dinner into his mouth each night and finally hit the books in one of the libraries or his apartment, he was exhausted.
More than once, he considered the efficacy of taping his eyelids open, but decided that wouldn’t be healthy for his corneas.
He saw little of Bash during those weeks. They had anticipated this, and Adonis was protecting their scheduled hookup time after fall break with sacred determination.
His mother was constantly filming his practices and routines and was in constant communication with U.S. Skating’s High Performance Development. They didn’t have any official news yet about Team USA, but Adonis knew that his name was in the conversation for the Olympics.
Anamária wouldn’t let him forget.
She mentioned it almost every practice. Whenever he messed up a routine, she’d say that if he did that in the Olympics, it would cost him this many points, or that many points.
Damien Zelinski was almost as bad. Maybe even worse. He liked to talk ad nauseam about the other skaters he had coached, often comparing Adonis’s techniques to theirs (rarely favorably).
Fall Break arrived, bringing with it the first truly cool days in New England.
Adonis and his mother packed their bags and flew to Colorado Springs to spend three days at the U.S.
Figure Skating headquarters. The three days were part of a closed-door, invite-only event.
Adonis and several other young figure skaters were there for on-ice monitoring sessions and off-ice meetings with officials from U.S.
Skate: nutritionists, trainers, and coaches.
“This is good,” Anamária said to him on the second night there. “This means they’re definitely considering you for Team USA.”
She wasn’t wrong, Adonis figured. There was no formal “tryout” process for the Olympic team.
Instead, selection was based on rigorous monitoring sessions like this and skaters’ performances at other events.
Adonis had been doing consistently well in his collegiate and challenger competitions, and if it weren’t for a sneaky sense of doubt, he would think that he had it in the bag.
On the last day in Colorado Springs, Adonis and his mother sat down with a U.S.
Skating High Performance Development manager, an old friend of his mother’s.
Her name was Connie. She looked like she had been born on the ice, wearing figure skates.
Her skin was very pale, her hair white-blonde, and her eyes a strange shade of very light gray.
She wore cream-colored workout clothes that did not, in Adonis’s opinion, go very well with her skin tone.
“It’s been very good to meet you, Adonis,” she was saying, though her Botoxed face left much to be desired about how “good” she actually felt about their meeting.
“We’ve been very impressed by what we have seen this week.
” She hesitated. “I think I can confidently say that you’re in a very strong position here. ”
To Anamária’s credit, she didn’t jump up and praise the gods in celebration. All she did was tense a bit in her seat. Adonis felt a flush of satisfaction, coupled with an unpleasant churning of nerves.
“Thank you,” he said to Connie.
When they were dismissed, Anamária gripped his arm. “This is why we hired Damien. I knew his coaching would be helpful.”
She walked briskly, already on her phone, no doubt scheduling double the training sessions with Damien.
Adonis hurried to keep up with her. He wanted to say that, hey, hadn’t he had a hand in his success here?
Wasn’t he the one on the ice, the one being evaluated?
But he didn’t want to fight that battle.
——
When they were at the airport waiting for their flight back to Boston, Adonis texted Bash.
Adonis: I think I’m going to be picked for Team USA
Bash: Fuck yeah. I knew you would. When will you find out for sure?
Adonis: My last few competitions in November are going to be really important. It’ll be closer to December when I know for sure. There are about 3 spots left for men on the Olympic team. Six guys (including me) were invited to Colorado for this week, so…
Bash: So odds are looking good
Adonis: I hope so
Bash: I think you deserve an award when you get back
Adonis: Oh, yeah?
Bash: Definitely
Adonis: I like the sound of that
Adonis: How’s the Netherlands?
Bash: It’s okay
Adonis: Wow. So descriptive. Tell me more!
Bash: It’s nice to see my sister. I took her to the opera in Amsterdam last night, and she enjoyed that.
Adonis: Did you see the Prince?
Bash: Forgot I told you about that
Adonis: You did
Bash: Yes, we saw Gustav, and Lotte made a fool of both of us, but the Prince noticed her, and that’s what she wanted.
Adonis: When’s the wedding?
Adonis: Wait, if she becomes Queen of the Netherlands, does that make you a prince?
Bash: No, but I’m still going to make you call me “Your Highness”
Adonis: I’ll bow down to you any day
Bash: Fuck
“You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot,” Anamária commented, causing Adonis to almost jump in his seat. He hadn’t noticed that she was watching him. A gate agent got over the intercom and gave some unintelligible instructions. “Who are you texting?”
The question likely wasn’t meant as accusatory, but Adonis was always wary of his mother when it came to the discussion of boys. Anamária had no problem with Adonis being gay. She did have a problem with anything that would distract him from skating.
“Just a friend,” he said, trying to keep his voice from becoming defensive.
“Ah.” She was silent for almost a minute, typing on her phone, and then said, “Clarisse?”
Adonis was thankful for the easy lie she’d served him. “Yes,” he said.
“Tell her I say hello.”
A strange thing for Anamária to request; she rarely showed interest in being cordial with the other skaters, or talking to them at all when it didn’t involve coaching them.
“I will,” he promised, and made a mental note to inform Clarisse, just in case this detail ever came up in conversation with his mother and Clarisse, though he didn’t know how that would happen.
“I scheduled some more practices with Damien for when we get back,” Anamária commented without looking up from her phone.
“I checked your calendar, and there’s a studying session on Thursday evening—with Sebastiaan Koning?
I didn’t know you had classes together. You’ll have to move that because Damien is in town that day and can meet with you for practice. ”
Fuck. A dozen possible protests ran through Adonis’s head, but he didn’t know which he could say that would convince his mother that the “studying session” with Bash was actually extremely important, thank you, and couldn’t be moved.
Anamária gave him a shrewd look. “What class do you have with Koning?”
Adonis muttered something about how they didn’t have any classes together, but he’d taken a gen-ed course that Bash was in now, and Bash wanted some help with it. He hoped it was convincing. He feared it wasn’t.
“I’ll move it,” he said, fighting to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Good,” she said. Their boarding group was called. Adonis thought glumly about how, once again, he’d have to wait to get fucked by Bash.
——
Damien, of course, was as convinced as Anamária that it was his coaching that had gotten Adonis to this point in the Team USA selections.
When they met for practice on the Thursday night that Adonis was supposed to be riding Bash’s cock (or taking said cock in whatever manner Bash wanted), Damien was practically glowing.
“Fantastic work, following my coaching,” he said, daintily clapping his hands. “Tell me all of their feedback.”
Adonis did, giving Damien a rundown of all the compliments and criticisms he had received from U.S. Skate. As expected, most of the critiques were focused on his skating being too constrained, too controlled, especially in his free skate.
“Exactly,” Damien said, which stung just a bit. “You have to learn to let loose when you’re skating. You have to feel the movement, like it’s part of you.”
Well, that made no sense, Adonis thought, but decided not to say it out loud. He hoped to finish this practice early and maybe still see Bash tonight, though Bash had admitted he wanted to be in bed by a reasonable time because he had a game tomorrow.
“Let’s go through your free skate again,” Damien said. “And we can take a look at where you need to loosen up.”
“Fine,” Adonis said lightly.
He stripped off his sweatshirt, leaving him in just a T-shirt and moisture-wicking leggings with his skates. Though the clothes weren’t warm, skating was a workout, and he never wanted too many layers.
Damien started the song, and Adonis hit the ice, going through the first part of the routine, until Damien paused the music and skated over to him.
“Your steps here are good,” he said, “but you’re not moving as one with the music.”
Whatever that means, Adonis wanted to say. He was hitting the technical marks. He had done the steps exactly as choreographed.
Damien replayed the song. When it got to the point he wanted, he called out beats and counts for Adonis, with the occasional “move!” or “there!” thrown into the mix.
He paused the music again and caught up with Adonis on the ice. “No, no,” he said. “Let me show you.”