Chapter 12
Connor
Ihold my breath for Vox’s entire one-minute-and-twelve-second ride.
He fucking crushes it.
Of course he does.
Effortlessly flawless, he hauls ass down this mountain, hitting a max speed of sixty-one miles per hour. I’m able to stay relatively calm during this run because no one else is on the course with him. As soon as potential collisions become a factor, I already know my stomach will be in my ass.
At some point, not only am I going to have to get on a board, but I’m purposefully going to have to put myself in Vox’s path as an obstacle.
Teaching him how to anticipate the path of those sharing his slope is the only thing that’s going to keep him safe.
And it can only be taught by someone who has the speed to get in front of him… meaning me.
Renner races next, and I feel terrible because my pep talk to him is lacking. I’m ashamed to admit my mind is already down the mountain, firmly on the snowboarder I know will be granted the first-place seed.
As soon as Renner is out of my line of sight from the gates at the top, I begin making my way down to the finish line. I ride the snowmobile path through the trees until I’m at the bottom of the slope, and when I dismount the vehicle, I see Vox wrapped in Grey’s arms.
Duh. Of course, he’d want to share this moment with Grey. Grey is his family. But after the night we spent looking over his contract, part of me had hoped he’d begin questioning that relationship just a little.
A pang of loss…jealousy…hurt…all of the above…flashes through me, and I can’t help but feel like that hug should be mine.
Averting my gaze in an effort to get my emotions in check, I spot a man standing to the side of the media tent, also watching Vox and Grey. Not in a creepy way, but like he, too, wants to be part of the celebration. But that’s just Vox. He draws everyone in.
My eyes drift back to the stunning man, and he catches my eye over Grey’s shoulder right as Renner’s time is called out. Renner whoops in excitement at coming in only three-point-three-six seconds behind Vox.
He stops his board right in front of me, pulling my eyes off Vox and onto himself.
“Did you see that?” Renner asks excitedly. “That’s probably the closest I’ll come to him all season, but I’ll take it!” Looking over at Vox, who is now being passed around to media and fans, Renner yells, “Hey, Vox! You’re buying my beer tonight!”
Vox throws his arms in the air. “The hell for? I beat your ass.”
Renner’s grin grows wider. “I know…but it was this close.” The two share a look I don’t understand before bursting into laughter like they’re sharing some kind of inside joke, and I’m left on the outside.
I fucking hate it.
“You’ll beat me one day, Gentry,” Vox says before being pulled back into interviews.
Looking at me, Renner laughs and finishes the conversation meant for Vox. “Not when it comes to sex appeal, popularity, or snowboarding.”
I realize I haven’t congratulated my other athlete yet, and quickly work to remedy that.
“Renner, that was a great ride. I’m proud of you. Your speed is really improving, and I can tell you’re less hesitant before catching air.”
It’s not a total lie. I did see his initial descent and his first ramp. For obvious reasons, we chose a more conservative route than Vox’s, but it was still a challenge for Renner, and he did amazingly well.
“Thanks, Coach.” The heat and butterflies are notably absent when Renner uses the title, which I’m thankful for. Except, their absence now points a spotlight on their presence when the same word drifts from Vox’s mouth. “Are you coming out to celebrate the team’s performance tonight?” Renner asks.
I nod. “I’ll be there.”
Grey already informed us that the entire coaching staff is expected to be there tonight, so even if I wanted to get out of it, I can’t.
Renner unclips from his board, picks it up, and offers me a fist bump before going to watch the rest of the athletes complete the course.
Since Renner and Vox are the only two competing in the snowboard cross event, they’re the only ones from our team who have to do this particular time trial. The others are most likely scattered in the terrain park, going through similar ranking procedures for their events.
My eyes search the crowd in the tent one more time for those purple tips, but they search in vain. Vox is lost to the crowd, and my skin crawls as I’m confronted with the way everyone is clamoring for his attention.
Feeling unmoored, I begin to make my way to the terrain park to support our other athletes.
I stand at the edge of the roped-off area, far to the side, away from the crowd.
I want to be able to speak knowledgeably about the athletes’ strengths today, which requires me to watch their events, but I’m not in the mood to be social—whether it be small talk with other spectators, or strategy with the coaches—so hiding in the shadow of the trees it is.
I’m clapping for Angel, who just pulled off the sickest Quad Cork 1880 that I’ve ever seen, when an arm brushes my shoulder.
“So, you can congratulate everyone else, but not me?” Vox asks, folding his arms across his chest as he stands next to me. “Seems unfair.”
Butterflies activated…along with goosebumps and a twitching cock. Great.
I work hard to keep the jealousy out of my voice when I answer, but I’m pretty sure I fail.
“By the time I made it down here, you were already being swallowed up by the press…and Grey.”
Turning to look at me, Vox cocks a half grin. “I was kind of hoping you’d swallow me after that performance.”
The surprise on my face, and the moan I manage to only partly stop, cause his grin to widen further.
I step to the side, putting some much-needed distance between us.
“Congratulations, Montgomery. It was a helluva ride.”
He shrugs. “I might’ve had some good coaching.”
He gives me everything by saying it, even though we both know that race was all him. I wish I could take credit, but I’m starting to believe that even compared to me in my prime, Vox is the better boarder…which only makes me want him more.
I wish I could voice how proud of him I am and how much my admiration for his fearlessness is growing, even if it makes me so fucking scared for him.
But I can’t.
Because the way he’s looking at me right now is telling me I’m not doing such a great job of hiding how I’m looking at him.
Swallowing hard, I turn to leave. “I’ll see you at the celebration tonight.”
My mood upon entering Meltdown is more sour than six-month-old milk left in the Arizona desert during the month of July.
The place is packed.
Apparently, word got out that the home team would be here tonight celebrating their four first-place time trial finishes across seven events—two of which belong to Vox.
The six team members are spread out across three tables and have been joined by an extreme number of friends, vacationers, and strangers, clearly hopeful to get an autograph or possibly more.
These athletes have worked hard over the last month, and the next two are only going to get harder. Now that we have an idea of where everyone is seated against the competition, we can sharpen our training plans, review the scores, see who lost points for what, and attack those areas.
So, it’s fine. Let them have their fun.
All but one, my idiotic brain chides.
It doesn’t take long to spot Vox once I’m inside. Everyone is trying to get close to him, his teammates included, as total strangers keep elbowing their way into the circle for autographs and selfies with the man of the hour.
The longer I watch this shitshow, the more nauseated I become.
Finally, willing my feet to move, I make my way to a high-top table where coaches Montoya and Fuller are seated.
“What are we drinking, gentlemen?” I ask, prepared to buy the next round simply so I can turn my back on the scene currently in front of me.
“I could use another Corona,” Fuller says.
“I’m just drinking water tonight,” Montoya replies, holding up his plastic cup of clear liquid.
Yeahhh, I’m going to need something stronger than either of those.
“I’ll be right back.”
I return several minutes later with water, Corona, and Jack on the rocks.
I do my best to settle into a conversation about today’s events, but it’s mostly Fuller and Montoya talking while I covertly try to steal glances at Vox, who currently has his lips planted on the cheek of some girl shoving her breasts in his face while her friend takes their picture.
Grey appears out of nowhere and claps me on the back. After following my gaze, he laughs.
“Kid reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age.”
“You went around kissing random people you didn’t know?” I say through clenched teeth.
“Maybe not that part, but I loved the attention. If I remember correctly, you went in the opposite direction. You stayed out of the limelight. Not a fan of the crowds. Only the occasional meet and greet. Why was that?”
Being gay in this sport five years ago wasn’t the same as it is today, and even today, it still puts you in a rainbow-colored pigeonhole.
“Just value my privacy, that’s all,” I mutter, still unable to take my eyes off Vox, who is now shoving his tongue down the throat of the girl clinging to him.
“Should we be concerned?” I ask Patterson.
“Nah. It could be worse,” he says calmly.
“Kid could be in a bathroom doing blow off her tits. Kissing her around his entire team, knowing we’re sitting right here, doesn’t concern me.
” He laughs again, the sound grating on my nerves.
“Anyway, he earned it with those times he put up today. I hope the girl goes home with him. He’s more focused if he’s getting some action. ”
Funny, Vox said the same thing.
My brows pinch together, and Grey must interpret it as confusion over his statement. “You haven’t seen his social media accounts, have you?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”