19. Zeke
DAY ONE OF THE 2024 OLYMPICS
“Are you going to serenade me today?” Zeke asked as soon as he was in the buggy.
“Are you going to do such a painful performance that I have to give you a pity clap like everyone at the party did?” Olivia said without missing a beat.
“Was it that bad?” He remembered his mortifying karaoke performance.
“Let’s just say that it lacked self-belief,” she said as she scanned the Village map, planned her route, and started driving.
“That’s a pretty diplomatic response. I wasn’t sure you were capable of one,” he said.
“I’m the most diplomatic person I know,” Olivia said indignantly, and then paused. “Okay, in the top ten most diplomatic people I know.”
“That lacked self-belief, Olivia,” Zeke said, and, to his surprise, she started laughing. It was a warm laugh, the kind that would make strangers want to turn around just so they could be in on the joke. He wanted to keep making her laugh.
“So did you trick me into doing bad karaoke to avenge your suit?” he asked.
“I didn’t trick you, you just fell into my trap,” she said, sounding delighted.
“Well, for the record, the only thing I’m bad at is singing,” he said.
“And walking in straight lines,” she said.
“I win medals when I run in them.”
“And being humble,” she said.
“That makes two of us,” he said.
She shrugged. “And you’re really bad at apologizing. Because I’m still wating on that apology, Moyo,” she said.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“No! I loved that suit,” she said, though she didn’t actually seem that annoyed at him anymore.
“Okay.” He took a breath. “I could tell your suit was new and you looked like you were having a bad day, so I’m sorry for spilling juice all over it.” Zeke should’ve stopped there but he couldn’t help but tease her. “However, while some part of me feels bad about ruining your suit, it looks like having things spilled all over you is a regular occurrence. So, it was probably going to happen anyway—”
“Don’t start,” interrupted Olivia, putting her right hand up in mock annoyance.
“I’m just pointing out the elephant-sized stain in the room,” said Zeke, thrilled as he watched Olivia’s lips curve up despite her best attempts at hiding her amusement.
“You have the personality of a seventeen-year-old boy.”
“You have the comebacks of an angsty teenage girl,” he said as Olivia revved up the engine. “And the driving skills.”
“Oh, what a surprise.” She shook her head. “An insult about a woman’s driving.”
“Wait, that’s not what I meant—”
“But that’s what you said.”
“Okay, so how long have you been in the golf buggy driving business?” Zeke asked.
“I learned how to drive it yesterday,” said Olivia.
“That makes me feel really safe,” said Zeke, prompting Olivia to dramatically press down on the accelerator. The buggy went at full speed, and she made a quick, unnecessarily sharp turn.
“Well, you’re about to feel a lot safer,” said Olivia in a sing-song voice as she drove at the maximum Village speed limit.
He held on to his seat, but he didn’t want to let her see him sweat. She was twisting and turning with enough precision for him to know that she was in complete control of the buggy, but it still didn’t feel comfortable. She stopped sharply, making Zeke’s heart jump out of his chest. Then immediately revved the engine up again, catapulting the buggy back out onto the road. Zeke could see the glint in her eye as she noticed his iron grip on the overhead handle.
“I’m a great driver,” she said, enjoying the power she had behind the wheel way too much. “I have a car driving license, a motorcycle license, and a lorry license.”
“A lorry license?” Zeke glanced over at her to try to figure out if she was bluffing.
“I could drive a heavy-goods vehicle for three days across mainland Europe if I needed to.”
“Of course, women can do whatever they want, and I believe in HGV equality…” Zeke said.
“Look, I’m working right now, Ezekiel. I don’t need your try-hard ‘men can be feminists too’ spiel,” she said skeptically.
“Well, they can, and I am,” he said. She rolled her eyes exactly as he’d predicted she would. “But, if it’s not too impolite to ask, why do you have a lorry driving license?”
“Partly to prove a point… but mostly out of spite,” she said, her eyes twinkling at the memory of her grudge-based upskilling. He couldn’t figure out if he was impressed or terrified. But then he looked over at her, and the answer was clear. Her expression was a mixture of mischief and delight.
“Is that something you do a lot? Take on complicated tasks just to prove a point?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, my grudges are like seeds in the orchard of my life. I like to water, feed, and nurture them,” she said with a grin. He found himself glancing down at her lips.
“You strike me as the type to hold a lot of grudges.”
“The type? You’ve known me for like, what, three minutes?” she said. This time he knew from the bite of her lip that she wasn’t annoyed at him. Olivia was flirting with him; she just had a strange way of doing it. Zeke leaned toward her, hyperaware of the ease between them. Every line was a challenge, asking him if he was game enough to play. He was.
“Yeah, and in those three minutes, you’ve driven recklessly to scare me and thrown me to the ground,” he said.
“First of all, I didn’t throw you to the ground.”
“Sorry, no, you’re right—you didn’t throw me to the ground, you pinned me to the ground,” he said with a smirk.
“If I’d wanted to pin you to the ground, you would have known it, and I wouldn’t have done it like that.”
“How would you have done it, then?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow, challenging her.
“Well, first of all I would’ve…” Her voice trailed off as she thought about it. She glanced over at Zeke, and they locked eyes for a fraction of a second. For a moment the heat in Athens felt a little bit hotter. But Olivia tore her eyes away from him before the atmosphere could get any more charged than it already was. She returned her focus to the road. The slightly flustered look on her face confirmed that she’d felt that sharp pulse of attraction too.
“I would feel a lot safer if you slowed down; I don’t want to die like this,” he said after a pause.
“I don’t know, Olympic athlete killed in freak golf buggy accident kind of feels like a pretty good headline to go out on.”
“The fact that you’re smiling as you’re saying that… terrifies me,” he said as he looked over at her, less terrified by her driving and more alarmed by just how quickly he could feel himself starting to like her.
“That’s kind of the effect I was going for,” she said with a gleam in her eyes.
For a few moments, they just sat in comfortable silence. Zeke hadn’t really got the chance to walk around the Village—he’d spent most of his time in Athens so far at the gym or in practice sessions. But as Olivia drove them, he looked up at all the different venues and training facilities, noting the similarities between this Village and the ones he’d gotten to know in Tokyo and Rio. Then, once he was sure she was too focused on the road ahead to pay attention to him, he looked over at Olivia. She seemed completely at ease behind the wheel. She had an air of effortless confidence about her. And despite the fact that she was covered in mud and wearing a garishly bright volunteer uniform, she was still as pretty as the very first time he’d seen her. Her lips were glazed with a dewy layer of gloss that glimmered in the sunlight as she smiled into the distance. Her long, intricate braids were pulled back into a ponytail. One curl was threatening to break loose, but it gave him an unobstructed view of the delicate way her lashes framed her warm, brown, determined eyes. She was gently tapping the steering wheel as if playing along to a song he couldn’t hear, and while her expression was far away, the smile on her lips made it clear she was happy wherever she was in her imagination. Then she took a sharp turn to avoid a puddle on the ground and almost drove them into the Karate Center.
“It’s not me, it’s the buggy,” she muttered as she pressed down on the brakes and then started driving again. “And the rain last night,” she added.
“Is that why you’re covered in mud?” he teased.
“If you’re not careful, next time I will drive you into a puddle,” she warned.
“Killing a national hero wouldn’t look great on your CV, Olivia,” he joked.
“No, it probably wouldn’t. And your fan club of teenage girls and middle-aged men would probably dox me too,” she nodded.
“Oh, they’d do way more than just that. They’d make true-crime podcasts and write fan fiction about how you started plotting this the second we met,” he said.
“And then you’d have no choice but to come back to earth as a ghost to read fan fiction about your own murder,” she said. “But you already do that, don’t you, Zeke? Read fan fiction about yourself.”
They were both silent for a second as Zeke opened and closed his mouth.
“I knew it,” she laughed as she glanced over at him.
“In my defense, the fanfic writers know how to tell a good story,” he said, shrugging off his embarrassment. He’d accidentally stumbled across a link to a website called AO3 while reading through his mentions and found a whole trove of dubiously written but gripping fan fiction about himself. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but whenever he got bored, he read through new posts tagged with his name and found himself engrossed in spelling-mistake-littered epics about fictional versions of himself in increasingly imaginative scenarios.
“Why can I imagine you just sitting in bed, reading erotica about yourself while giggling and kicking your feet—” she teased.
“Giggling and kicking my feet? Stop it,” he said, rubbing the side of his head. He was mortified.
“Waiting up late every single night to see if a new chapter has been added to one of those smutty one-hundred-and-thirty-chapter fan-fiction series.” She clearly loved watching him squirm.
“You’re ridiculous,” he said, trying not to let his face betray him.
“What’s your favorite genre?” she said wickedly. “Do you like fluffy fic where you’re the dream boyfriend? Or are you more into those mafia stories? Do you like the ones where you’re not famous, or are you more of a plot what plot kind of guy?” she asked, delighted to have found something to hold over him. Zeke should never have booked a buggy. Walking for half an hour and being late would have been much less stressful than this ordeal of a journey.
“First of all, I don’t know what any of those things are. Secondly, isn’t it a little bit misogynistic to make fun of a genre mostly written by young women, Olivia?”
“I’m not making fun of them, I’m making fun of you,” she said. “And remember, I’m doing you a favor. I could leave you stranded at any—” But before she could finish her sentence, the golf buggy hurtled down another hill, skidded into a puddle, and sent a huge splash of mud and water into the air. They came to a sharp stop as he and Olivia threw their arms up in fear.
Olivia turned the buggy off, took the keys out, and looked over at him in shock. He didn’t need a mirror to know what she was staring at. Zeke’s white-red-and-blue uniform was completely soaked. He could feel the splatters all over his face, and as he reached up to touch the top of his head, he felt sticky mud beginning to seep into his brand-new trim. Olivia, on the other hand, had somehow managed to escape this puddle unscathed because of the angle they’d crashed at.
Zeke was supposed to be at the stadium for a big-time TV interview with the BBC. He was already twenty minutes late, and now his outfit was completely ruined. He jumped out of the buggy and tried to shake the mud off his shirt, but his running shoes plunged straight into a puddle and came out coated in a perfectly thick layer of mud.
Zeke looked at Olivia, and then Olivia looked at Zeke. He tilted his head to the side, and she bit her lip. He saw a wave of emotions cross over her face. Shock and then guilt and then worry and then her lips started to tremble. She covered her mouth with her hands, and her eyes began to water. He was about to tell her that it was okay and he wasn’t upset with her, but he was completely misguided. Olivia wasn’t about to cry.
She did everything she could to try to hold back, but the impulse was too strong. So she let out a belly-aching, shoulder-shaking, full-body laugh. Her eyes scrunched up, and the laughter poured out of her like a warm bright light. The joy on her face was infectious, and soon enough he was laughing too. An uncontrollable laugh that left tears on his face and his whole body feeling a little lighter.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” said Zeke, shaking his head.
“I am… so… sorry… I… mean… it,” she said between breaths of laughter. Zeke tried to squeeze the muddy water out of his shirt.
“If this was your payback for the green juice…” he said, wiping his eyes.
“I would never!” said Olivia, pausing her laughter. “If I wanted revenge, I’d have to be creative with it,” she said as if she was defending her honor. Zeke noticed the way the sun-kissed glow of her deep-brown skin glistened under the light of the bright Greek morning.
“I’d expect nothing less than expert-level revenge from you,” said Zeke.
“Don’t worry, I can pay for your dry cleaning,” said Olivia. “I’ll get it all pressed and folded too. My treat.”
Zeke was wet, muddy, and about to get into so much trouble with Coach Adam. But when he looked at Olivia, he realized that he’d end up soaked to the skin with mud everyday if it meant he’d get to see her again.