Chapter Ten
Nico
There’s a smile on my face all day during practice. I’m in a better mood than I ever have been before. I’m glowing; I’m sure of it. And it’s all thanks to that big hockey player who so sweetly and sexily kissed me last night. He’s completely taking over my mind.
Thankfully skating takes zero focus from me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need to be in the zone. Because I do. I need to pay attention, and I need to practice my routine properly. I can’t be too cocky over this because that will be my downfall. Everyone warns me of it.
I run through my routine a handful of times before I need to get off the ice and let someone else on.
There’s a busy schedule here, and some of these people could use more time to practice or at least get used to being in the arena.
Being somewhere new can be intimidating, and maybe just being out there on the ice and moving around could make them feel better.
I don’t want others to fail, even if I want the gold for myself.
I want them to succeed and do their best. I want them to have everything they need to get there.
“Nico!” my cousin sings-songs as I arrive in the locker room. “I have good news.”
“Did you do it?”
étienne grins, nodding.
I grab him and kiss his cheek. “You’re the best.”
I grab my phone from my locker and check it.
“Well?” étienne says, hovering over my shoulder. “Do you have a dick pic yet?”
I shove him off. “Don’t be crude, étienne.”
“What? I bet his dick is huge.”
Yeah, it probably is…
“Even if it’s not, it doesn’t matter. He’s sweet.”
“Boring,” he says, dropping onto the bench. “Did he at least text you?”
“He did.” I smile as I open the text from the unknown number.
I’d told étienne that as my PA it was his responsibility to do the things I can’t—like give Roman Callahan my phone number because I woke up this morning and wanted to text him only to remember I couldn’t. étienne remedied that in a timely manner, and for that, I am thankful.
Unknown: Hey, it’s Roman. Your cousin gave me your phone number.
I save his number in my phone as Big Guy and then respond.
Me: Hey. I’m about to grab lunch in the Village. Want to join me?
Big Guy: Yes.
I do love how direct he is. It’s yes or no; not I don’t know, maybe, sure. It makes me feel like he really wants this.
“What are your plans?” I look up at étienne.
“Not much,” he says. “Maybe a nap before your performance.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? We’re at the Olympics and you’re going to take a nap?”
“Like what you’re going to do is any better.”
“Actually, it is.”
I change into my team clothes and head back to the Village with étienne. He does, in fact, head up to his room to take a nap. Apparently he was up late doing something he won’t tell me about, and I know what that means.
He hooked up with someone but doesn’t want to tell me who.
I can only assume that’s because it’s an athlete and he doesn’t want to put it out there.
Normally, étienne has no problem talking about who he sleeps with, but not wanting to talk about it tells me it’s for a reason.
Like maybe the person he slept with is married or not out.
Wouldn’t be the first time he did something like that.
That man has no boundaries. Maybe it was another hockey player.
One of Roman’s teammates or someone from another country.
I know they’re tough about that sort of thing, though most athletes are, as if being gay is some sort of negative thing and makes you bad at sports.
It doesn’t and it’s not.
I find Roman waiting just inside the doors, leaning against one of the pillars.
He smiles brightly when he sees me.
“Hey,” I say.
“How was practice?” he asks as we make our way to the food lines.
“Good, as usual.”
“Feeling confident about tonight?”
“Always. Did you have practice today?”
“Way too early this morning.”
“Not a morning person, huh?”
“I just like sleep.”
“Sleep is nice, but it’s the warm bed that makes me want to stay.”
He groans a sound that shouldn’t be so erotic… and now I’m thinking of him in bed, naked… running his large hand over his chest and abs that I know are there, the muscles in his arm flexing.
“Exactly that,” he grunts, shaking me out of my inappropriate thoughts. Though, maybe I’ll revisit it later. Naked Roman Callahan? Yes, please.
We’re dressed warmly here because it’s so cold, and when he’s on the ice, he has so much gear on it’s impossible to tell what’s underneath, but I know… they’re all built under there, even if they hide it well, and Roman is no different.
Just thinking about his hard abs, his firm muscles, has me way too excited for being in public, and these sweatpants won’t hide a thing, so I need to behave.
We get into the line to grab our food. I’m not hungry, but I should eat, so I get a salad with chicken, a banana, and water. I don’t see the pile of food on Roman’s plate until we sit at the table.
“Wow, did you leave any for the others?” I ask with a laugh.
He glances down at his plate, then mine. The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk.
“Are you part bird?”
“Oh, so you have comebacks, huh?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes.”
“Eating all of that doesn’t make you sick?” I ask, pointing to his bowl of pasta that is easily a double portion, maybe triple.
He frowns. “Why would it make me sick?”
“It’s all so…” I roll my wrist as I think of the word I want to use. “Heavy.”
“I like food.”
“You don’t feel weighed down after eating though?”
“I just work it off in the gym.”
Narrowing my eyes, I watch as he digs into the food, noting the slice of cake to his left. I could do without cake, but I am a sucker for brownies. I’m glad they don’t have any here because I may feel the need to cheat.
“If I eat too much, I feel sluggish,” I say. “A lot of people comment on it, especially étienne. For a while, he thought I had an eating disorder, which I do not, I’m just picky about what I put in my body.”
I glance up from my food to find him staring at me cautiously.
“You’re sure you don’t have an eating disorder?” he asks carefully.
I’m not mad or offended at the question. I put it out there for discussion. He’s just commenting on it.
“I like food just like other people, I just don’t obsess over it or use it to fill voids like other people. And some food just doesn’t make me feel good.”
“Have you been tested for allergies?”
“Allergies?” I ask.
“Yeah, like lactose intolerance? Celiac disease? There could be a reason why you feel that way.”
“I… no. I never thought of that, actually. I usually get pretty defensive about it, if I’m being honest.”
“If people are going at you saying you have an eating disorder when you don’t, I can see why you would.”
“Thank you for believing me,” I say carefully. “I appreciate that I don’t feel like I have to convince you I’m not lying.”
He smiles softly. “I have no reason not to trust you, Nico.”
We eat our food in silence, listening to the people around us talk. I don’t understand half of them, but I can tell they're excited and like listening just the same.
“I promised Connor I’d hang out with him later, so I won’t see you after your performance,” he says as he grabs his plate with the cake on it.
Disappointment floods my chest.
“But you’ll be at the performance?”
“Of course.”
I nod. “I’ll be at your game tomorrow.”
“I can meet you after you’re done.”
“I’d like that.”
Neither one of us talks about the fact that we so badly want to see each other every chance we get… and soon enough, those chances will be gone. Because the Olympics are already almost halfway over.