35. Zeke
EARLY HOURS OF THE MORNING, DAY SIX OF THE 2024 OLYMPICS
“Look at you two, reconciling, planning your future together,” said Haruki, returning with a mojito for Valentina and two icy glasses of water for himself and Zeke. Zeke shook his head, and Valentina dragged them both to the center of the dance floor. Moving their bodies in time to the music amid a group of people they didn’t know, but who were just as happy to be there as they were. The room was dimly lit by brightly colored lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Everyone looked beautiful, the way that people did when their faces were filled with joy. Their bodies appeared golden under the warm lights of the dance floor, and Zeke felt a lightness that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Zeke was easygoing, but he was far from carefree. There was always something on his mind, whether it was thinking about the past or trying to predict the future. But as they danced that night, all that mattered to him was his friends and the music.
However, something shifted in the air as soon as a stranger came over to ask Haruki for a picture. The bars and clubs they’d been to earlier on in the night were boring in the way that clubs that were exclusive with their guest lists were. They’d been surrounded by people who were used to being in the same room as celebrities. And while exclusive places like that were dull, the people who spent their nights there knew what it was like to feel hunted and so they never pulled their cameras out. Cassiopeia, on the other hand, was a small under-the-radar spot filled with normal Athenians. But the thing about partying in normal places was that it was only a matter of time before someone took a photo and caused a scene.
It was Valentina who noticed it first, looking startled as a bunch of new people suddenly walked into the club. Haruki’s face clouded over as he asked a random guy to stop recording a video of him in the middle of the dance floor. Zeke grimaced when a group of people began asking him about what life was like in the Village. The three of them grabbed each other and tried to subtly leave. But they were greeted by a small crowd of photographers who immediately started asking questions and taking photos. So, they ran back into the club and sweet-talked the bartender into letting them use the back door. They fled into the closest alleyway to hide from the paparazzi who had descended on Athens at the start of the summer and were now trying to find them.
It was a long, dark alleyway, lit only by the faint glow of the club’s windows and a distant lamppost on another road. In the dim light, Zeke saw his friends both as they actually were and as how the world saw them. He saw Haruki, the boyish, enthusiastic, endlessly supportive friend. But he could also see him as the heartthrob swimmer whose bare-chested shoots sent the internet into chaos. He saw Valentina as the thoughtful, deeply compassionate person she was. But he could also see her as the elegant, otherworldly gymnast who graced magazine covers and made onlookers stop in their tracks. He wanted to stay in that moment because he could feel things changing. They were all in their early twenties, but in sports terms they were on their way to retirement. Zeke could feel how close they were getting to not seeing each other every four years in an Olympic Village or at international competitions. He knew they’d stay in touch, but, outside of the world they’d found each other in, it wouldn’t be the same. He tried his best to just soak in the moment.
“We’re going to get in so much trouble,” said Haruki. Valentina tried to call a taxi, but she didn’t have service. Haruki tried to send a text to one of his coaches, but he’d spent so much time recording Valentina’s competition and taking photos of the three of them that his battery was dead. Zeke’s phone was on 4 percent.
Technically, athletes were allowed to leave the Village. But high-profile athletes weren’t supposed to go into the city without one of the official Olympic security guards. The guards weren’t just there to look after them and protect them from overenthusiastic fans, they also came with the kind of authority that stopped the paparazzi from taking photos of them. If they’d left the Village with a guard, the guard would have driven them to wherever they wanted to go in a secure armored vehicle that could pick them up at a moment’s notice and stop them from getting stranded in a random alleyway.
The three of them had got into a lot of trouble when they’d gone out to do karaoke during the Tokyo Games. Not because they weren’t allowed to go out but because the paparazzi had caught them walking out of a club looking incredibly messy just a few days before all three of them were supposed to be taking part in the biggest competitions of their lives. Last time, their late-night adventures ended with them being grounded by their coaches for the rest of the Games. They couldn’t afford to be put on Village house arrest again.
“This could be my last Olympics,” said Valentina quietly.
“Don’t say that,” said Haruki firmly.
“I’m not being pessimistic, I’m being realistic,” said Valentina. “I’m turning twenty-five. By the time the next Olympics happen I’ll be almost twenty-nine, basically geriatric by gymnastics standards.”
“You could still out-jump all those sixteen-year-olds,” said Zeke.
“Without a doubt,” said Valentina, “but I might not. So, if this is it, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than in this gross, smelly alleyway with the two of you. This feels like the pinnacle. Everything else is just an abundance of—” Valentina was a Texan girl from a Mexican Catholic family, and so she was always ready to give a speech about gratitude. But before she could finish her sentence, two men with big cameras rounded the corner and started running toward them.
“We have to go, right now!” Zeke pushed his friends ahead of him, running until they reached a quiet residential street. When they could no longer see or hear the paparazzi, it dawned on Zeke that they were in a foreign city and none of them knew how to get home.
Haruki was in the middle of trying to convince them to knock on a random door and pray that the people on the other side weren’t psychotic serial killers, when Zeke had an idea.
“I think I know someone who can help,” he said.
He knew exactly one person who was living in Athens city center, and, even though his phone was about to die, it was worth a shot. He realized it would mean explaining things to Haruki sooner than he’d planned to, but at that point there was no other choice. So he opened his phone and clicked the call button. It felt like each ring took longer to come around than the last, but just when he was about to give up hope, the person on the other end of the call picked up.
“I know I should’ve called you sooner, trust me. And I know it’s the middle of the night and you’re off the clock. But for the third and final time, I promise, can I ask you a favor?”
Ten minutes later, he heard the sound of someone humming Dolly Parton’s “Nine to Five” and saw the silhouette of a woman carrying two bags of what smelled like souvlaki. She walked toward them and took off her headphones. Olivia was wearing a yellow sundress with her braids down. There was a glint of curiosity in her eyes.
“I already know what you’re going to say,” said Zeke. He held his arms up in surrender.
“You’ve made up some pretty bad excuses to see me, but Help I’m being chased by the paparazzi and have no way to go home takes it to a whole new level, Zeke.”
“You’re right, I was just looking for an excuse to call you.”
For a moment Zeke felt like they were the only people on that street, the only people in the whole world. But then he remembered they weren’t alone.
“Hi, I’m Valentina,” his friend said, putting her hand out.
“Hey! I’m Olivia. Congratulations on your big win! Me and my housemate watched it and you were incredible,” said Olivia, smiling excitedly as they shook hands.
“Olivia? Hey!” said Haruki with a grin. He looked at Olivia and then at Zeke, confusion slowly starting to drift across his face. Guilt began to creep up Zeke’s body.
“Haruki!” said Olivia, turning to him. She said his name with a casual cheerfulness that Zeke had never witnessed before. In fact, now that he thought about it, she was looking up at Haruki like he was the literal sun.
“I didn’t think I was going to see you until Bend It Like Beckham,” she said. Zeke looked back and forth between them. They seemed to have such an easy familiarity. Zeke was in distress. He wasn’t usually the jealous type but there he was, head spinning at the suddenly very real possibility that Olivia might like Haruki back. The shock must have been evident on his face because Valentina was looking at him strangely. She raised an eyebrow.
“Wait, where was my invite?” Valentina said, joking as the three of them began a conversation of their own. Zeke looked on, but he wasn’t focused on the interaction itself; he was focused on Olivia, on how different she was with Haruki and Valentina.
Then the realization hit him. Olivia had the same expression on her face as the people who stopped him in the street to take a picture. Olivia wasn’t madly in love with Haruki—at least, he hoped she wasn’t. And she wasn’t just putting on a whole new persona for Valentina—Olivia was a fan. He realized that she was completely starstruck, nervously asking questions and nodding attentively at everything they said.
“Why do I get the sense that you’re nice to everyone except for me?” asked Zeke.
“Because nobody else insults my driving or finds new reasons to bother me at my place of work every day,” said Olivia, teasing him without missing a beat.
“I didn’t realize you knew each other?” said Haruki, looking back and forth, trying to connect the dots.
“Unfortunately,” said Olivia, the look she gave Zeke betraying her. He wanted to smile back, but then he caught Haruki’s eye. This was about to get complicated.
“Okay, well, I really hate to interrupt whatever this is, because, honestly, I’m fascinated,” said Valentina, “but we really need to get out of here.” She nodded over at a small crowd that had followed them out of the club. They seemed harmless, but they had their phones out and Zeke could see that at least one of them had a professional camera. The paparazzi always descended on a city as soon as the Olympics came to town. And a good photo of Zeke and Valentina, while the internet was still speculating about their relationship status, could go viral in minutes. But Zeke and Haruki really couldn’t afford to get photographed partying less than a week before their finals. Again.
Olivia looked at the three of them and then over at the man with the camera.
“I live a ten-minute walk away, you can come up if you need somewhere to hide out?” she said.
“Are you just offering so you can have something to hold over me?” Zeke said, quietly enough that only she could hear him.
“I don’t need something to hold over you.” She paused. “I know you’ll keep coming back.”