Chapter 9
Vox
Today’s training was strangely fun. Granted, most of my time was spent trying to get under Connor’s skin, but that objective helped me relax enough to actually enjoy fucking around with Renner as well…
once we cleared the air about his shitty joke toward the queer community at least, which he apologized for once more before we left.
I’m meeting a few people from the team at Meltdown for a beer—which Renner will be paying for, fuck you very much—and my greedy eyes scan the crowd as I enter.
I’d thought it was my imagination, but Connor’s demeanor has definitely changed toward me since finding out I’m bisexual; the energy between us more charged than it was. I couldn’t tell whether it was from discomfort or something else entirely until I got the text.
As I slip onto a barstool, I pull my phone out to see a text message from Grey on the group chat I’d started between me, him, and Connor.
Grey
Glad to see you’re having a good time with it. Maybe just send me the ones with all your clothes on next time.
I read the message about five times. Scrolling up, the last message had been from me asking about board bindings, and Grey’s message doesn’t make sense…until I ask for clarification.
Me
***
Grey
The simulator picture you sent.
And suddenly, it clicks.
Connor meant to send the pictures to himself, but got the wrong text stream. The sneaky bastard even went back in and deleted them from my phone. Something about that diabolical plot turns me right the fuck on, and I’m suddenly invested in a way I haven’t been before.
Me
Oh, right. I must’ve accidentally deleted it and forgot I sent it.
I’ll cover for Connor, but now he owes me, and I’ll make sure he pays up.
Sadly, Connor probably won’t even be here tonight, which sours my mood a little, and I briefly think about shooting him an invite until I realize how wildly obvious that would be.
Suddenly, hands clap my shoulders, bringing me back to the present.
“Thirty-four likes, pretty boy. That’s all that separated us.
I’ll buy your damn beer, but just know…it was this close.
” Renner holds his index finger and thumb less than a centimeter apart in front of my face.
Admittedly, it was closer than I thought it’d be, considering I have way more followers than he does. “What are you drinking?”
“I’ll have the Moose Tail lager,” I reply.
“A lager? Do you plan on catching a buzz at all?” he asks with a laugh as he moves toward the bar.
An odd warmth spreads through my chest when he returns and places the beer in front of me, holding his up to clink his glass against mine. Friendship feels kind of good.
We’re joined a few minutes later by Angel, Tasha, Trent, and Gibson. Once everyone is seated, Renner wastes no time in singing my praises.
“Oh man, Voxy and I got to ride the simulator this afternoon. You should have seen him. He was picking his way down a run off the summit of Mount Everest. It was dope as hell.”
“Sounds cool, but I’d much rather spend my time on a real slope,” Gibson replies.
Ever since our near collision on the mountain, we mostly steer clear of each other.
He has the fire to win, but he doesn’t have the skill to back it up, and I know it pisses him off that he isn’t the best on this team.
I’m in too good a mood to let him get to me, though.
“No shit. We all would,” Renner says. “But when it’s pelting ice bullets from the sky, and our coaches won’t let us ride, the sim’s a cool alternative.” Renner turns to fist-bump me. “It was a bad-ass ride, man.”
I can’t hide my smile as I knock my knuckles into his.
“Thanks, Ren. You know I’m still going to try to kick your ass in the time trials in a couple days, though, right?”
Renner laughs and takes a sip of his beer before answering. “No shit, dumbass. But it’s not like we both don’t already know you’re going to win.”
“Says who?” Gibson calls from the other end of the table.
“His record,” Renner fires back.
“Yeah, well, we’ve got multiple chances. And the competition in Park City is held at my home course. We’ll see who wins that one.”
“Probably you,” I admit, causing Gibson’s and Renner’s eyes to go wide with my unexpected announcement.
“So, you do acknowledge that I’m better than you?” Gibson asks with a sly grin, popping a fry into his mouth.
I don’t hold back my laughter.
“Fuck no. I just assume you’ll win because I won’t be there.”
“What do you mean you won’t be there?” Renner asks.
I shrug. “I’m only competing in the Winter Classic this season.”
Our entire table goes silent before Tasha pipes up. “But what about all the other stops on the circuit? You’re just going to leave money on the table?”
“No, Grey believes in scarcity. If I’m not available to everyone, then it makes my worth go up.
And if I only race certain events, those events draw a bigger crowd, making the prize purses higher.
So, this year, he asked me to just race the Classic.
Said the prize purse would make up the difference for missing out on the other events. ”
“Assuming you win,” Trent says, taking a sip of his beer.
“And you believe that?” Gibson scoffs.
“I mean, yeah. First-place event purses are a hundred grand at the Classic. When I win both of my events, that’s more than I will have made in five competitions combined last season.”
“Of course, so we’re all allowed to bust our asses trying to earn a dollar while Daddy Warbucks continues to foot the bill for your existence.”
“Hey, fuck you, Gibson,” I yell, my fist slamming the table. “I worked hard to get where I am. Don’t blame me for your second-place finishes.”
“Man, this is bullshit. I’m out,” Gibson says. Pushing back his chair, he throws some money on the table before firing his parting shot. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you let Grey Patterson give it to you up the ass, either.”
My brain can’t keep up with my body, and I cock my fist back, ready to punch Gibson right in the fucking face. But a firm hand clamps down on my wrist and doesn’t allow me to swing.
Connor’s voice is in my ear.
“Gibson, that’s enough. Your comment will be addressed by your primary coach, but that bullshit won’t be tolerated on this team. Vox, come with me.”
I shrug into my coat, down the rest of my beer, fist-bump Renner, and follow Connor into the frigid air.
“What the hell happened back there?” Connor asks as we walk aimlessly along the sidewalk.
“It’s fucking cold out here,” I complain. “Can we have this conversation at my place? I could probably use another beer.”
Connor hesitates, but finally agrees.
“Yeah, sure.”
I open up on the walk in an effort to distract myself from the biting cold.
“Gibson’s pissed that he’s not better than me.
Said he was going to win the competition in Park City, and I agreed since I won’t be there.
But then everyone got sort of weird when I said the Winter Classic is the only event I’m doing this year.
And Gibson basically said I’m only number one because I’m Grey’s bitch. ”
Connor snorts a laugh.
“Well, he clearly hasn’t been paying attention. Top or bottom, you’re nobody’s bitch, Vox. But I have to admit, I was a little shocked myself when Grey said he asked you to only do the one event. Has he ever asked that of you before?”
“No, but like I told the team, it makes sense. The prize purse alone is worth it. Why risk an injury before that competition?”
Connor hums next to me.
“What does hmm mean?”
“Could I see your contract?” he asks.
“Uh, sure. I guess,” I tell him as we reach my condo building and I let us inside.
Flipping on the light switch, I hang my coat up, turn on the gas logs, and grab my laptop from my bedroom, leaving a trail of water the length of the hallway as melting snow drips from my clothes.
“I feel a little weird about this,” I admit, sliding onto one of the small barstools at the counter between the kitchen and living room and logging in.
“Why?” Connor asks, taking the stool next to me.
“I don’t know. Feels like a violation against Grey. I’m not supposed to talk about my contract.”
“Which is kind of a red flag, Vox. I mean, if you don’t talk about it, how are you supposed to know if you’re getting taken advantage of? Especially since you don’t have any other sponsors.”
This makes me jerk my head back, and I start getting defensive.
“Taken advantage of? Grey gave me everything when I had nothing. He’s not taking advantage of me, for fuck’s sake. He’s trying to protect me.”
“All I know is that when I signed my NDA, it took away my right to share my story. People in positions of power want to control the narrative, and the best way to do that is by silencing others.” Connor’s deep voice could lull me to sleep, and it works to calm my anger as he continues.
“When I was boarding, Vertigo encouraged me to talk to anyone who would listen about my contract: attorneys, parents, other boarders, hell, even other sponsors. It keeps the athletes safe, and it ensures a competitive market for the sponsors.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” I agree, turning the laptop to face Connor once the document is pulled up.
Leaning in to see the small screen better, Connor throws an arm around the back of my chair to brace himself. I try to stay completely still, but as my chest expands with my inhale, my back touches his forearm.
He doesn’t move or seem uncomfortable, so I just relax and watch him as he reads.
But as his brows pinch together more and more, I finally speak up.
“I have to admit, the look on your face right now has me a little nervous.”
When he turns to look at me, I’m closer than he’s expecting because I wanted to see which part he was reading, and he jerks in surprise, almost falling off the other side of his stool.
I throw a hand down on his thigh to steady him.
A second later, our eyes drift to where I’m touching him, and I swear there’s nothing but hunger in his gaze.
With the drama of the evening, I’d forgotten about the pictures he sent from my phone, but in this moment, I’m certain he meant to send them to himself… and I want to hear him tell me why.