Chapter Two
Nico
“I can’t believe we’re at the Olympics!” étienne shouts, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. The Village is beautiful, spacious, showy—everything you’d expect it to be.
“I don’t know why you’re excited. All you’ll be doing is watching. I’m the one who gets to perform.” I grin, placing my hands under my chin and batting my lashes.
He narrows his eyes, growling playfully. “You’re too mean to be so talented.”
“It’s my cross to bear.”
étienne rolls his eyes and continues walking. Athletes I never thought I’d dream of meeting jog by, their breath causing fog in the cold air, ear buds blasting something that’s keeping them going. I’m vibrating with excitement. Finally, my dream to be at the Olympics has come true.
“What are we doing first?” étienne asks excitedly.
“Well, I should probably get to my room and put my things away. You should do the same.”
“But this is all so exciting!” he says, looking around. “I mean, look at that!” He points to the Italian flag hanging from one of the balconies. “And that one!”
There are flags proudly hanging off balconies, showing the team’s pride but also which countries are in which buildings.
I bet this is overwhelming for a lot of people but I’m too excited to be nervous. I’m ready to compete and take home the gold.
“Fine, Rabat-joie.” étienne uses the nickname he gave me when I started ice skating at the age of three, and ever since, I’ve wanted to do nothing else. It’s his endearing way of saying I’m a buzzkill and no fun.
“Keep it up and I’ll fire you.” I grin at him.
“You can’t.”
“Uh, yes I can. You work for me, as my personal assistant.”
“Oh please, as if your mama would let that happen.”
“She’s not here, is she?” I retort, a pang hitting my chest.
It’s my first time at the Olympics and of course both of my parents wanted to be here, but they stayed behind to care for my grandparents, who both seem to have gotten worse at the same time.
Of course, I understood why they stayed, and even told them to; but it does suck not having them here.
Especially because we have such a large family and others could have stayed to help, but my mother is the oldest and it’s her parents that are sick.
So, I understand her need to stay behind.
étienne was more than happy to come with me. We’re close in age, him being only fourteen months older than me. We’ve been close since we were little because of that. He’s both my cousin and my best friend, even though he annoys me to no end on most days.
He leads the way to our building. His sense of direction is wonderful, where mine sucks. So, if I stick by him, I won’t get lost. See, he is good for something, even if he is only my fake personal assistant so he could room in the same building and stick by my side.
“Pay attention,” he says.
“The buildings all look the same. I could record where we are and still get lost.”
He groans, hooking his arm in mine and we walk down the sidewalk. The smell of freshly baked bread and pastries wafts through the air and my mouth waters, but it’s not time for that. I already ate today, and I need to stick to my diet to be ready to perform.
I’m not surprised that étienne gets us to our floor without being turned around once.
“This is you,” he says, gesturing to the door on the left.
I glance down the hall, then back at the door. “Never going to remember that.”
He rolls his eyes again. “I’m at the end of the hall—that way.” He points away from the elevators. “With the rest of the team staff.” He starts to walk backwards. “Call me when you’re done so we can explore.”
I give him a thumbs up and use my key for the door.
“Hello?” I call out, but I get nothing in return.
I’m sharing a room with Percy and Marshall, my teammates, but I’m not sure how often we will see each other.
Though we work together and practice together, we aren’t exactly friendly outside of that.
They have their own group of friends and will be out doing their own thing.
We have to be seen together at certain times, for media purposes, but we aren’t competing for a couple days yet.
The team competition comes first, so once that’s done, practices will be only for me.
I get all my things organized, and then I call étienne to see if he’s done yet.
“Why does it take you so long to do everything?” I complain. “I want to go check everyone out.”
“You just want everyone to check you out.”
I grin. “You know me so well. Are you almost done or what?”
“I’ll meet you at the elevators in twenty minutes.”
“Ten,” I counter.
“Fifteen.”
He ends the call. I laugh, heading to the bathroom to make sure my hair is okay.
I run my fingers through it, messing it up in a stylish way that somehow works.
My hair is lighter than most in my family, almost a dirty blond, compared to their light brown hair.
Even étienne has the signature Laurent hair color.
He’s joked more than once that I was adopted—which I’d consider if I didn’t look exactly like my mother.
I wait at the elevator for five minutes before étienne shows up, waving and smiling at other people from Canada who are also residing in this building. I recognize some of them, but most of them I don’t know. Still, I don’t hide my elation over meeting them and networking.
étienne looks like he couldn’t care less that he had me waiting. Consideration clearly skipped this bloodline.
“Don’t say a word,” he says as he stops beside me.
“You’re late.”
“I said twenty.”
“We agreed on fifteen.”
“Don’t push me, Nico. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t want to listen.”
We get into the elevator, and I push the button for the bottom floor.
“What is the plan?” I ask. “What are we doing?”
“Figured we could watch the hockey players.”
I grin. “Not the worst idea you’ve had.”
étienne and I are both open about our sexuality—at least in our personal lives.
I don’t talk about it when it comes to skating because I don’t want it to be a thing.
It could go either way in the media. I wouldn’t lie if someone asked, but I’m not going around and announcing that I’m a gay figure skater.
“Anyone in particular you want to see?” I ask, giving him the side eye. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows exactly who is here and who he wants to accidentally run into.
étienne is a big hockey fan, as is most of our family—as Canadians, we sort of have to be.
I appreciate the sport, but I’ve never found it all that interesting.
It feels like a caveman sport. There’s so much fighting and hitting…
it’s so violent. I don’t see beauty in it the way I do with other ice sports.
But I will not deny my eyes a handsome, rugged player, which a lot of them tend to be.
“None of my crushes made the teams.” He sighs disappointedly. “But I’m sure we’ll find some good ones.”
“What team is playing right now?”
“By the time we get there, it’ll be Italy versus Sweden.”
“Sounds like you’ve planned this.”
“It’s the only way we’d get tickets.” He grins, hooking his arm in mine once again.
The bus to the games is full of athletes chattering excitedly about…
a lot of things I don’t know, because they’re speaking other languages and I only speak English—and a little bit of French.
I enjoy listening though. I can tell by the inflection and tone that they’re excited to be here.
The energy on the bus is buzzing. Plenty of people have been here before, but there are also a ton of young people, like me, who are experiencing their first time.
It’s the middle of the first period when we make it to our seats.
“Italy has better players, so they’ll probably win, but I can’t wait to see USA and Canada compete. The US has the best goalies, but Canada has the best scorers. It’s going to be an exciting match.”
“If the USA has better goalies, does it matter that Canada has better scorers?” I ask.
“Of course it matters. Someone is still better, and I’m sure they both have tricks up their sleeves. I can’t wait for that game.”
étienne is completely into the match, and though I watch, I don’t jump up and down when certain things happen because I don’t understand what is going on.
“Why do they keep stopping?” I ask.
étienne gives me a dirty look. “How many times do I have to explain this game to you, Nico? What kind of Canadian are you?”
“The kind that figure skates and makes it to the Olympics.”
He huffs. “Just watch the game.”
Italy scores, and the crowd goes wild, including my cousin.
“So, we’re voting for them?”
“I’m just excited to be here. You should be too.”
“Woohoo,” I say flatly.
“How are we related?” he mutters, putting his attention back on the ice.
I don’t hate the game—I just don’t understand what’s going on, and maybe that’s because it’s all so fast-paced. I hardly know where the puck is, and when the buzzer goes off for a goal, I don’t even see it in the net.
Italy wins 4-1. étienne is thrilled, like they’re his favorite team or something. He’s talking about me being a bad Canadian because I don’t understand hockey, but if that’s the case, according to his logic, he shouldn’t be rooting for anyone but Canada.
“We should hang around and see if we can catch the bus back with them.”
“That’s creepy,” I say.
“Rabat-joie!” he shouts, throwing his arms up.
I laugh as we make our way outside, into the cold night air.