Chapter 15 #2
“Do you want to fly?” Asher asks.
Completely unsurprising, Gael does.
As do several other kids, as it turns out.
Ten minutes later, Asher finds himself swooping Gael around the ring, the little boy whooping in delight. Bailey, Montez, and Malik join in, each with a child in their arms as they take turns showing them how to do simple dives.
“And now, for the finishing move.” Asher swoops over to Alexei who seems to be having an in-depth conversation about labradoodles with a girl wearing a purple pom-pom beanie, guiding Gael’s hand into a punch that gently connects with the Russian man’s chest.
Alexei drops to the ground, dramatically clutching at his ribs. “Ah, I’m dead,” he announces.
Asher crows. “And the crowd goes wild! Presenting the king of the ring: Gael last-name-unknown!”
He’s so caught up in trying to make this a day to remember that he doesn’t notice Caleb isn’t in the ring with them until he steps backstage to grab some merch for the other kids and recognizes the low rumble of Caleb’s voice on the other side of the curtains.
He flattens himself against the wall, cranes his neck until he just barely glimpses Caleb without revealing himself.
Caleb is pushing a young girl in a wheelchair around backstage. She has a rainbow scarf knotted around her head, skin almost as pale as the white hospital tag around her wrist.
“I’m breaking about a hundred rules now, but that’s kinda fun, isn’t it?
” As Caleb walks, he leans over the side of the wheelchair, coming down to her eye level.
He points out the different rooms they pass by.
Asher trails behind them, watching Caleb show her around the production zone, locker rooms, and catering area.
Caleb’s voice is low and warm. Gone is any trace of the Ice Prince.
“That’s Kayden by the cameras,” Caleb says, pointing into a broadcast room. “Say hi to Kayden.”
The little girl waves.
“So, Bernice . . .” Caleb says as he stops in catering and pulls out a chair. Asher ducks behind the door, peeking through a crack in its hinges. “Tell me about your favorite match.”
“Easy! Bailey versus Summer at Revenge in Rotterdam,” gushes Bernice, squirming with excitement. “Last year’s European tour was so badass.”
“Yeah? You liked when Bailey jumped off the steel cage with a baseball bat?”
“Loved it! She’s like a superhero. I asked my teachers if I could do the same with the annoying boys in my English class, but apparently that makes me”—Bernice curls her fingers in an air quote—“a menace?”Asher stifles a laugh. “What about you?”
“Well”—Caleb strokes his chin—“I do think I’m pretty neat, but Asher’s matches are stunning, don’t you think? Don’t tell him I said that though. His head might pop.”
He sticks his pinkie out, beaming when Bernice wraps her little finger around it.
Pressing his fist against his mouth, Asher grins, heart thumping rapidly in his chest. There is something lovely about the scrunch of Caleb’s nose.
He has so much care to give, pieces the world has tried and failed to break.
His laugh—soft and patient as his eyes—curls around Asher’s heart.
It’s dangerous. Asher knows this. And yet…
“Are you ready to meet the other kids? I bet Bailey is dying to give you a big bear hug.”
Bernice is quiet. She fiddles with her wrist tag. “What if they don’t want to hang out with me?”
“I know how that feels,” Caleb says. He smiles that lopsided grin of his, the one that scrunches up his right eye.
“You know, I used to think magic wasn’t real.
I thought it was this fairytale thing that the real world capitalized on as some flashy scam.
” He pauses. “But I was wrong. I think kindness exists because we exist. Perhaps that’s magic too. ”
That is what sends Asher tumbling over the edge.
Every time he discovers something new about Caleb, something he can’t get enough of, yet another curtain comes tumbling down, exposing more and more of that Emerald City illusion.
And this, lifting a spell only to find that he prefers that ordinary, unguarded boy hidden beneath—this isn’t even the most terrifying part.
The worst is when Caleb adds, “Give them a chance to love you,” and the only thought pinging around Asher’s brain is I think you’re worth the risk, and he doesn’t know what to make of any of that.
ORLANDO, FLORIDA
“My hero,” Ava swoons when Asher hops into the bed of their truck and hands a container of xiao long baos over.
Ava is looking particularly radiant today. Yellow dye carves neat flowers into their buzz cut. Their skin glows with a healthy, warm golden brown as they bask lazily under the sun.
Settling onto a pile of blankets beside Ava. Asher reaches over and grabs a packet of soy sauce from the plastic bag, ripping it open with his teeth. “God, I needed this,” he says with an exhale. “Just the two of us and nothing else.”
“Baby, seasons change but people don’t,” Ava sings.
Asher snaps a pair of wooden chopsticks apart before scraping them together to get rid of any splinters. “It’s nice to pretend work doesn’t exist for a bit.”
Over their shoulder, Ava shoots Asher an odd look. “When did it change?”
“What?”
“You’ve never called what we do work. It’s always been ‘the dream.’ What changed?”
Asher sucks on his teeth, reflecting. “You know how we’re taught to visualize where we want to land in the ring after a move, so we end up where we need to be?”
Ava nods.
“I had my whole life planned out. I envisioned getting my name out there, getting signed by GEW, and becoming world champion. It’s all I ever wanted.
And I knew, you know? I knew that GEW had problematic practices, that the odds wouldn’t be stacked in my favor.
But I didn’t care. I still wanted to be a part of that world.
But now that I’m here, I . . .” Asher trails off.
“What if I overly romanticized it in my head?”
“Do you still think it’s worth it?”
“I mean . . . it’s what we signed up for, isn’t it?
” He cracks open a can of green tea, offering Ava a sip before he tips the drink into his mouth.
“Obviously there are always going to be critics who think I’m garbage, but the general audience loves the tale of an underdog, proof that there is life on the other side of what seems to be an insurmountable challenge. ”
“But?” Ava hedges. With great finesse, they grasp a xiao long bao with the end of their chopsticks and plop the entire dumpling into their mouth.
“It’s all fun and games when the audience likes you, but imagine playing a heel?
The Performance Center preps us with media training, but it doesn’t remotely come close to the real deal.
People often blur the lines between acting and reality.
Like, just because your character is an asshole doesn’t necessarily mean you’re an asshole. ”
“Ah. Then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Other people start thinking you’re actually an asshole, and then you’re forced to respond in a way that confirms the original assholery.”
“Exactly.”
“Something tells me this has to do with a certain blue-eyed boy.”
“You’re so mean to me. You think you’re so smart.”
“But am I wrong?”
Asher sticks out his lower lip. “No.”
“You could have gotten dicked down by anyone, yet you settled for a cast member from The Book of Mormon?” Ava asks incredulously. “What happened to having taste?”
Good grief. Asher needs to get new friends. He leans across the gap to swat at Ava, who screeches and kicks him away.
“Get to the point, loverboy,” they say bluntly.
Asher flops over, taking his time to answer. “He seems . . . hollow. I don’t know if it’s the toll that this business is taking on him or if that’s just who he is.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because I like Caleb, all right?” The name lands as sweet and fizzy on Asher’s tongue as an effervescent vitamin. “And that’s not me ‘settling.’”
“How are you doing?”
Asher buries his face in his hands. “I’m okay.”
Ava’s eyes narrow. “You’re not. But we don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready to.”
“I just . . .” Asher fishes around his pockets and pulls out his phone. “One second, I actually typed out some thoughts in my Notes app.”
“Notes app?” Ava echoes. Their nose scrunches in bewilderment.
“It’s like journaling! Not all of us are readily in tune with our feelings, okay? This took a two-hour-long plane ride and I was three screwdrivers deep.” He shuffles around and clears his throat. “Bullet point one: I like Caleb and that scares me.”
“Elaborate.”
“Bullet point two: I don’t know what that means for my dreams. I want the world to see me.
Like, really see me. To make a name for myself.
To leave a legacy: this championship in my grasp for as long as possible.
I want to do all of that without hiding who I am or making myself small, but it seems like I have to, or this industry will reject me.
Surely Caleb knows it too. I’ve been sneaking in and out of his hotel room, and he won’t even take me out to breakfast the morning after.
That makes me feel like I’m some dirty secret even though I know it isn’t true—”
“Won’t?” Ava interrupts. “Or can’t?”
“What do you mean?”
“God, this cannot possibly be the same brain that got you a degree. You’re lucky I love you.
I mean”—Ava sets their chopsticks down—“that you’re making it sound as though Caleb has a choice in the matter.
Does it seem like he has any free will here?
If what he’s told you is true, for years the company has controlled his every move.
I’m surprised that old man hasn’t put a shock collar on him yet.
If he can manipulate Caleb into screwing you out of that title, who knows what else he’s capable of. ”
Asher’s brain whirrs, processing. He grasps for something to say, but all he finds is, “Goddamn.”
“What else do you have? Hit me.”
“Bullet point three just says make it Romeo and Juliet but gay.”
“As God intended.”