Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
The interview ended and the lights came on in the rest of the room, revealing all the camera people and staff. One of the reps from US Ski and Snowboarding was standing in the corner looking shellshocked.
Good.
Kirby wanted them to be. The longer the interview had gone on, the more heated it had become, the angrier at everyone she’d gotten. How dare they ask her to be nice and biddable. They might as well have told her to smile more. How insulting.
Chandler Wendleton caught her eye before storming out. He was great at the dramatic exit. It made Kirby laugh.
Janette smiled at them like she’d won the lottery. “That was certainly an interesting interview. Thank you both for being so vulnerable.”
Vulnerable was a nice way to look at it. Kirby hadn’t felt vulnerable, though. She’d felt powerful.
“Making headlines, making money,” she said lightly, shaking Janette’s hand. And it was true. Brand deals, followers, TV shows. Good press or bad press. It all helped Kirby in the long run.
Kirby reluctantly glanced at Mara. Mara looked queasy, which almost made Kirby feel bad. But ultimately, Mara had snapped back in that interview just as harshly. She’d played her own role, and it had been incredible.
Mara’s best self was not the uptight little ice princess. It was the badass who could take Kirby down a million pegs with sharp words. But no one seemed to see that but Kirby.
Kirby couldn’t stick around watching Mara gape like a fish, so she bailed. Her body was buzzing. She had to get her pent-up energy out, and she knew the best way to do it.
She’d made it down one hallway, then another, before she realized she was being followed.
“Bonham!”
Mara’s shout was an arrow to Kirby’s chest. Kirby wanted to fight more, to push more, but she knew the fighting was already getting dangerously close to something else. Something tempting and complicated.
So she kept moving. Another hallway. Another turn, until she was fully lost.
“Hey!” Mara yelled again. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“To play Bunco. Where do you think I’m going?” Kirby said, not slowing down.
“Honestly, KB, I couldn’t begin to imagine.”
Kirby reeled back to Mara and trapped her against a white wall, backing her up with nothing but closeness. She didn’t touch her, but she wanted to.
Kirby had two inches on her, and it was way too satisfying to see how Mara had to tip her chin up to glare at her.
They were alone again. It had happened more often in the past few days than the four years before. They were usually surrounded by coaches, trainers, nutritionists, and people whose sole purpose was to optimize their intervals, bodies, and mental states.
“You called me KB.” Kirby lifted her hand, and Mara flinched. Kirby pressed her palm directly above Mara’s shoulder, boxing her in. “Calm down. I’m not going to Nancy Kerrigan you.”
“Everyone calls you KB. Even Janette Collins called you that.” There was steel in Mara’s voice and a stubborn set to her jaw.
“You don’t.” Kirby smiled and ever-so-gently tapped her fingertip against the curve of Mara’s shoulder, trailing along the seam on her lime-green quarter zip. It was a ridiculous color, but it looked incredible on her. “You’ve always called me—”
“Bonham, stop it,” Mara hissed and knocked Kirby’s hand away.
“Bonham. Yep. There it is. So sporty.”
“Stop.”
“Last names. Handshakes and fake smiles when I beat you. No smiles when you beat me because you’re too humble to be happy for yourself. But something got into you during that interview. It was hot, Mara May.”
“Stop.”
“Nah.” Kirby was getting into dangerous territory, but there was such an appealing frigidness to Mara’s glare, and Kirby wanted to feel the burn of frostbite for a bit longer. “What do you need?”
“I don’t—I don’t know. It feels like you stabbed me in the back in there. Why would you do that?”
“I don’t owe you anything. I control my own narrative, and I refuse to be a pitstop on the Mara May redemption tour. I won four years ago. I did that. But somehow your failures have fallen at my feet.”
“It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t ask to do this interview.”
“No. You just follow instructions.”
Mara glanced away from her, and a bloom of red rushed over her cheeks. Kirby didn’t want that. She wanted Mara’s focus on her.
Kirby stepped closer, and Mara’s gaze flew to her in surprise. Kirby could smell Mara’s fancy fucking perfume again. She smelled rich. And good.
Mara could have ducked under Kirby’s arm, could have stepped away at any point. She could have pushed past, and it would have been understandable. But she hadn’t. She’d stayed right there.
“I liked it,” Kirby said. “When you said KB. It sounds different when you say it. Meaner.” Fuck, she loved the way Mara’s lips pursed in anger, the way she was breathing hard. All pissed off and hot as hell. “I’m going to go find someone to fuck.”
“Excuse me?” Mara snapped, so polite even though politeness had flown out the window long ago.
“That’s where I’m going. You asked. I’m going to find a hot, willing athlete in peak physical condition who also needs to burn off nerves and excitement and stress.”
“But—” Mara seemed to glitch. She was frozen and looked so confused.
“But what?”
“We’re not done.”
“Mara May, unless you’re finally gonna finger fuck me in this hallway, we are definitely done.”
Mara’s eyes went wide, and her gaze strayed to Kirby’s mouth for a beat.
Then a longer one. Then it was like her brain came back online and she snarled, “Why do you have to be so crass? I meant we aren’t done competing.
We still have a week until the Olympics and over three weeks until our events end. ”
“So?”
“You’re going to start some type of relationship right now?” Mara said, her words tumbling over each other. “It will interfere with—”
“I find it very adorable you think I’m about to go have a grand romance. Trust me. It’s just going to be hot and meaningless.”
“We have training in three hours.”
Kirby stepped back and shrugged. She couldn’t believe Mara was even still there, engaging. “Again, I say, so?”
“You’ll ruin your—”
“Appetite? I doubt that. It’s pretty healthy.”
“I was going to say focus.”
“Ah. Worrying about your competition? How sweet,” Kirby said.
“I’m not sweet, and—”
“Oh, I know.”
“—you’re not my competition.”
Kirby had been feeling so smug. She hadn’t expected something quite that cutting.
Mara continued, “When was the last time you raced a personal best? Hit a personal goal? When was the last time you cared more about winning than your follower count and TV appearance fees? Do you really think you can touch me? Or the podium?”
Kirby felt like she’d been punched. It wasn’t any worse than the things she’d goaded Mara into saying in the past, but it did get to a particularly hidden piece of her heart. The fear that she had peaked in Beijing. That it was all a fluke. That she didn’t actually belong and never would
“Touch you, huh?” Kirby said, her voice low. She was more pissed than she had any right to be. “What an interesting turn of phrase you chose there, Mara May.”
Mara shook her head in exasperation. Or maybe denial.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Kirby whispered when Mara didn’t respond.
“What does?”
“Being nasty.”
“I’m not—”
Kirby laughed, and Mara’s mouth snapped shut.
“Maybe I won’t medal. Or beat you. But at least I’m in charge of my own life. And I’ll have fun. Fun skiing. Fun getting famous. Fun fucking. Fun fucking with you. When was the last time you felt true, unbridled joy, Mara? Do you ever let yourself be happy?”
“Toddlers feel joy when they see bubbles. What a ridiculous thing to ask.”
“Winning a gold won’t make you whole,” Kirby whispered like she was telling Mara a really important secret.
If Mara had been a cartoon, smoke would have been billowing out her ears. She looked like she was about to rip the walls down around them, too worked up to even speak.
“Why are you playing by their rules? Following their scripts?” Kirby asked. She was going to control her own story this time. “You’ve already proven yourself, princess. Maybe you can let yourself have a little bit of fun. Maybe we both can.”
Kirby couldn’t help it. She touched a lock of Mara’s dark hair that had fallen over her shoulder. Mara sucked in a sharp breath, turned on her heels, and walked away.