Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Mara wound her way through several hallways to reach the suite of offices in the United States’ block in the Predazzo Olympic Village. She needed to retrieve her Opening Ceremony uniform.
Because the Olympic venues were spread out throughout Italy, they were having smaller satellite Opening Ceremony events in every Olympic territory. She had to decide whether to attend in Predazzo or hire transportation to Milan and back.
One option was the responsible choice—staying in Predazzo—but, in her heart, she really wanted to go to Milan. She wanted to be where the biggest spectacle would be.
For some reason, spectacle was more appealing than ever before.
When she reached the right hallway, Kirby was sitting on the ground outside the office. She had earphones in and was studying something on her phone.
Mara’s heartbeat took off like a shot. It happened every time she saw Kirby now, this unstoppable physical reaction. Her body just completely betrayed her, and she couldn’t control it.
Kirby must not have heard or seen her approach because she didn’t look up from her phone. As Mara got closer, she could see that Kirby was watching a race. It was the very first fifty-kilometer race in the World Cup after the distance changed from thirty kilometers to fifty.
Mara loved the change. She loved endurance.
Loved pushing herself to the limit for kilometers upon kilometers.
Cross-country skiing was a full-body sport.
It was so physically demanding and hard.
There was a reason skiers collapsed after crossing the finish line.
It wasn’t dramatics. It was exhaustion. And she was so good at overcoming the pain and fatigue, pushing through it to win.
She had come in second in that race, which had helped her clinch the World Cup Crystal Globe, but the race itself had been a battle of wills. The conditions had been terrible, the snow like mashed potatoes, and every skier out there had been suffering.
“You come in nineteenth,” Mara said. Kirby startled and glanced up. She took an earphone out of one ear.
“What?”
“You come in nineteenth.”
“I know where I placed, Mara May. I was there.”
“Why are you watching that?”
Mara watched race film too but usually with her support team and Coach Karlsson to identify pain points or things to work on.
“Because I’m a masochist, obviously. Coach Wu told me to consider my strategy in deteriorating conditions. So I’m studying.”
“Ah. Okay.” It was hard being close to Kirby after everything. Mara wanted to be even closer and also as far away as possible. “What are you doing out here?”
“I’m here to pick up my outfit for the Opening Ceremony.”
Mara sat down beside Kirby. “Me too.”
“Lindsey’s in there now.”
On the screen of Kirby’s phone, Kirby was passed by skier after skier before crossing the finish line and crumpling onto her back. She smacked the ground in frustration.
“That was a good result,” Mara said.
“For you.” Kirby was holding herself rigidly, which was strange. She was usually all loosey-goosey and relaxed.
“For you too. You’re a sprinter. That was a great finish.
” And Kirby had placed higher in subsequent fifty-kilometer races.
Truthfully, it was disingenuous to call Kirby a sprinter.
She wasn’t just a sprinter. She had worked hard to become well-rounded in the longer distances.
But Mara knew it bothered Kirby to be labeled like that.
“I’m the Olympic gold medalist in that event, Mara,” Kirby said flatly.
“That was thirty kilometers, though. Not fifty. It’s different.”
“No shit.” Kirby flipped her phone between her fingers. Her hands were shaking.
“Are you okay?”
“Where’s your favorite place to ski?” Kirby asked abruptly, dropping her phone into her lap. She scrubbed her hands over her cheeks like she was trying to rub feeling back into them.
“My favorite place to compete?” Mara asked.
“Not compete. Ski.”
“I’ve never thought about it. Weather, elevation change, trail conditions, snow totals. They’re simply variables to consider and plan for.”
Kirby spun from her butt and sat up on her knees, facing Mara.
“No, not compete,” Kirby said again. “Where is your favorite place to just be you with the snow and trees and polar bears, or whatever it is you have up there in Alaska.” A small tremor ran through Kirby’s right hand, and she clenched it into a fist.
Mara frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Answer me.”
“God, I don’t know, Bonham. Do you have a favorite place?”
Kirby shrugged and closed her eyes. She held her breath for several seconds before letting it out. Then she did it again.
Mara snapped her hand out and grabbed Kirby’s wrist. Kirby gasped but didn’t open her eyes.
Mara turned Kirby’s wrist over, noticing that Kirby’s hand was cramped into a claw.
“What’s happening right now?” Mara whispered. She checked the hallway to make sure they were alone. “Are you sick?”
Kirby gave a sharp shake of her head and finally met Mara’s eyes. “I’m fine. It doesn’t matter.”
That was so clearly not true. Mara felt almost scared by how untrue that was.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Lie.”
“I don’t know why…” Kirby took a harsh breath. “It’s not like you care anyway.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Kirby clenched her jaw, the muscle popping over and over. “Nothing. God, talking to you is worse than the breathing exercises.”
“Hey,” Mara said, voice frosty. Kirby flinched and looked up at her.
Kirby’s eyes were blue, and her eyelashes were so long. And she had a scar under her eyebrow that Mara had never noticed, but now she wanted to run her thumb over it again and again.
With slow deliberation, Mara rubbed Kirby’s wrist and palm in a great sweep. “There’s this trail in Kincaid Park in Anchorage.”
Kirby nodded and matched Mara’s breathing. “I raced there for Junior Nationals once.”
“Right. Well, this trail, Mize Loop, it’s one of the first trails you learn to ski as a kid. It’s easy. But it’s my mom’s favorite. She’s not, uh, very comfortable on skis, but we ski it every Christmas morning. If we’re together. I think it’s the only time all winter she gets her skis out.”
“That’s nice. I haven’t seen my parents in years.”
“I know,” Mara said gently. She rubbed Kirby’s hands harder, pressing against Kirby’s palms with her thumbs. “Do I need to get Coach? Or a doctor?”
Kirby grimaced and shook her head.
Mara stood up and helped Kirby up too. “Come with me.”
Mara led Kirby through the facility, keeping her hands to herself but staying close to Kirby.
They found an empty hallway with an empty bathroom. Mara pushed Kirby through the door.
“There are no polar bears in Anchorage,” Mara said. “Except at the zoo.”
Kirby laughed, but it sounded loud and unnatural. “What?”
“There aren’t polar bears where I grew up. They’re farther north. Alaska is big.”
“You’re such a know-it-all.”
“You need to slow down your breathing. You’re hyperventilating.”
“I know,” Kirby said, her voice paper thin. Her breathing sped up. She was shivering.
“Tell me your favorite place to ski,” Mara said. She slipped her hands up and down Kirby’s arms.
“You’ve touched me more in the last five minutes than when we fucked.”
“Hush. That’s not true.”
“Almost makes the panic attack worth it.”
Mara ignored that. “Come on. Tell me your favorite place.”
“Apollo and I skied out and camped in this primitive yurt thing once in Vermont. I spent the weekend breaking trail in the wilderness and exploring. Then we skied into this little town with a dive bar, got drunk, and had a threesome with a hot bartender.” All of Kirby’s words rushed out in one big breath.
“That tracks.”
“My lips are numb.” Kirby squeezed her eyes shut. “They start to tingle and then my cheeks tingle. And then I get so sweaty. This is the worst. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“It’s embarrassing. We’re competitors, and this feels like showing you every weakness I have. Oh, God,” Kirby started to bend over like she was going to put her head between her legs.
Mara caught her and didn’t let her. Then Mara’s thumb was right there. Right on Kirby’s bottom lip. Trying to rub the sensation back into it.
“I already know your weaknesses, Kirby.”
A pained noise worked its way out of Kirby’s throat. Mara would have done anything to take that pain away.
“Will you kiss me?” Kirby whispered. “Please. It was so good when you kissed me.”
“Kissing isn’t going to fix hyperventilation.”
“It might. Nothing else has worked so far. Worth a shot.”
“This happens to you often?”
Kirby nodded. Then shook her head. All contradictions. Her hands trembled as she reached for Mara’s waist. They weren’t cramped anymore. “More often recently.”
“Match my breathing, Bonham.”
“I liked it when you called me Kirby.”
“Okay, Kirby.”
Tears welled in Kirby’s eyes, and Mara felt like she might come apart herself.
“I’m sorry,” Kirby said again.
Mara pressed closer until Kirby would be able to feel the up and down of Mara’s chest against her own body. Feel her breaths. The slow in and out.
“That’s it.” Another long slow sweep of her thumb over Kirby’s lips. Then she raked her fingernails through Kirby’s hair.
They breathed together for several minutes. Kirby relaxed in increments until she was a puddle against Mara.
Mara had never had a panic attack, but she knew they could wipe a person out, so she held Kirby up.
Kirby put forward such a vibrant, carefree image to the world, and she was tough.
To come up in the ski world without familial support—monetary or otherwise.
To compete at such a high level. To support herself through whatever means necessary and set herself up for the future.
Mara might not have agreed with Kirby’s career decisions, but there was no denying she was a hustler.
Kirby possessed an incredible degree of mental and physical fortitude.
And if occasionally it all got to be too much for her, well that was understandable.
Kirby’s arms snaked around Mara’s waist, holding tighter than before when they had seemed rather limp.
“So the kissing is off the table, then?” Kirby asked after a few minutes. She sounded more normal. Less shaky.
“I’m not going to take advantage of you,” Mara said, a bit of tease in her voice, but the world was coming back into focus. She had been so zeroed in on Kirby before. But now she was very aware that they were in a public bathroom in the Olympic Village.
“Mmm, no, please take advantage of me.” Kirby’s lips skimmed along Mara’s jaw, and heat spread through Mara’s body lightning fast.
“Hey,” Mara whispered. “You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to. Jesus.” Kirby ripped herself away. She brushed her hair out of her face, frustration in every movement. She was still slightly unsteady, but her voice was strong.
“Don’t do that.” Anger rose in Mara, right along with desire. Was it always going to be that way with Kirby? Rage and longing in one shot.
“Do what?”
“Get mad at me for no reason.”
“I don’t do that,” Kirby said.
“Yes, you do. And I do too. And it’s ridiculous. The Olympics are in—”
“Stop lecturing me. I know when the Olympics start. I know I need to lock in, okay? What do you think I’ve been doing? You’re not the only one in the world who cares, Mara May.”
Mara was done. She grabbed a fistful of Kirby’s shirt and pulled her forward.
“Fuck you,” Mara whispered. Their lips didn’t touch, but they were so, so close. She could feel Kirby’s exhalations and smell whatever citrus-scented hair product she had in her waves.
“Don’t talk dirty to me unless you want me to do something about it,” Kirby said. A smile tipped her lips, and Mara found herself smiling too.
Kirby’s gaze scanned over Mara’s face. Usually, Mara would have hidden. Shuttered her emotions. Closed her eyes. She would have done whatever she needed to do to separate herself from that moment.
Compartmentalize.
But instead, she… didn’t. She let Kirby look at her. She’d seen Kirby shaking and scared, so it was only fair.
“Let me kiss you,” Kirby said, her voice almost too soft to hear.
Mara didn’t respond, but she did lean in that last millimeter, closing the miniscule distance between them.
Their lips pressed together lightly. It was surprisingly sweet. By far the sweetest kiss they’d had. Mara’s head spun as Kirby deepened the kiss, as her hands trailed over Mara’s shoulders and throat.
“I’m scared of this,” Kirby said, breaking the kiss way sooner than Mara was ready for.
Mara was breathless like she’d just finished a race. “You don’t need to be.”
Kirby shook her head. “You don’t know… You don’t know anything, Mara May.”
“We should go,” Mara whispered.
“Me first,” Kirby said, and wasn’t that amazing? So many double meanings in two little words. Kirby leaving first. Kirby placing first.
Kirby pulled away. Then she walked away. And Mara was left feeling like something had aligned rather than broken apart.