Chapter 24 Drew #2
Drew hadn’t known Ari very long, but he’d spent enough time taking photos of people to figure out how they were feeling.
She was joking around as she studied the menu, pointing out all the sports-inspired drink names.
But she kept tapping her foot against the floor and had rolled and unrolled the sleeves of her red sweater at least three times in the last minute.
He wanted to ask her about it but let her warm up first. They went back and forth on the menu until she ordered the Alpine Ski Almond, and he ordered the Bobsled Banoffee Pie.
Their hot chocolates arrived in tall glass mugs on a tray dusted to look like a thin layer of snow.
She told him that she was supposed to be on a processed sugar ban as part of her training diet, but this was too delicious to refuse.
It wasn’t until she had her hands wrapped around her mug that she finally looked content.
“So, what happened today?” he asked casually.
“Nothing,” she said, sipping her chocolate.
“We won’t know each other anymore in two weeks, remember?”
“So, this is a safe space?” she laughed.
“Exactly. Just listening, no judgment.”
She shook her head and smiled, dipping her spoon into the mug to taste the almond flakes scattered across the top before opening up.
“The team bombed at our game yesterday, so all the girls hate me. Well, they don’t hate me, they just think I have no idea how to be a good captain,” she admitted, putting her cup down and holding her head in her hands. “And honestly, they’re right. I just don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
He wanted to reassure her, but from what he knew about Ari, his words wouldn’t be enough. She was the type of person who needed to believe something for herself.
“What makes you think that?” he asked instead.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, putting up her hands.
“Being captain, especially at the Olympics, is a life-changing opportunity. I’m grateful that Coach picked me for the job.
But since taking it, everything’s changed.
My friends are hanging out without me; and instead of trying to do my best, I feel like I’m constantly trying to prove myself.
And I think they’re starting to realize that I’m not going to become the person they need me to be,” she said, slightly panicked.
“Have they said that?” Drew asked gently, hating how much of an effect it was having on her.
“No, but I can feel it.”
Ari paused for a moment and looked up at the wooden beams on the ceiling, closing her hands around her hot chocolate.
He’d noticed her doing that a lot. Zoning out of their conversations for a moment and silently thinking things through by herself.
Drew recognized it because he did it all the time.
Processed his thoughts and emotions alone.
He watched as she fidgeted in her chair for a moment and stretched her legs out, trying to get comfortable.
“My legs ache. I think the cold is getting to my bones,” she said, fidgeting around.
“Come over here,” he said. “There’s plenty of space.” She let him take her calves into his hands so they could rest on his lap, then smiled as she got comfortable against the side of the couch.
“Ari, they’re your friends. Do you really think they’ll be disappointed that you can’t do everything perfectly all the time?” he asked, returning to their conversation as he rested his hands on her knees. It felt comfortable and familiar. Like they’d done this a dozen times before.
“Kind of, but more than that, I’ll be disappointed,” she said, looking over at him, her voice soft.
“It was so hard for us to get to the Olympics that I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive myself if I become the reason why we don’t make it.
Plus, my friend Yasmeen’s trying to book us into a spa day the weekend after the finals, so they’ll be gutted if we end up having to catch an early flight home,” she said wryly.
She was trying to lighten things up, but Drew stayed right there.
“You put a lot of pressure on yourself.” It was an observation, not a question.
“You don’t become great by treating yourself with kid gloves,” she said. There was a slight note of defensiveness in her voice. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far without that pressure.”
“But?” he asked, leaving the door open for her to keep going.
She looked over at him, studying his face for a moment, a response on the tip of her tongue.
But then she glanced over at the door. Something she saw there made her shake her head.
Drew glanced over and saw a group of Team GB athletes who’d just walked into the bar.
Ari slid her legs off his lap and shuffled over to his side of the couch, moving closer until they were seated shoulder to shoulder.
Drew sat up, remembering why they were there.
“Snowboarders?” he asked, scanning the group for Harrison.
“No, bobsledders. But everyone knows each other. I saw him earlier, actually,” she admitted.
Drew raised an eyebrow. “Nothing interesting, just Harrison being Harrison.” She shrugged.
The look on her face made it clear there was more to it than that, but she’d moved on, redirecting her energy to shuffling over toward him.
He instinctively put his hand against the back of the sofa and smiled when she wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Fake boyfriend, remember?” she said, reminding him why they’d come to Schokoladenzeit in the first place. One of the bobsledders glanced over. Ari took it as a cue to move even closer to him. Inching forward until their legs touched.
“Actually, I was looking into the science behind romance yesterday. For the sake of our fake relationship,” she said, like it was a regular thing to do. “And I saw this video talking about why seats are arranged side by side outside old French restaurants instead of across from each other.”
“And why is that?” he asked, amused to hear her findings.
“Well, according to the video, it’s more romantic,” she explained, casually placing a hand on his leg.
“Apparently, people hold back on being themselves when they’re seated face-to-face with somebody, because it feels like being on display.
But when you’re sitting next to someone, you’re quicker to break that barrier and more likely to open up. ”
“That explains New Year’s,” he said, recalling how quick he’d been to relax around her.
“The shots my teammates convinced me to drink probably helped.”
“And the premidnight dread sealed the deal.” He smiled. “What else did your video say?”
“That this seating arrangement is perfect for making us look like we’re really together. Because sitting side by side makes a date feel more intimate.” She shrugged.
“Oh, really?” he asked, looking over at her.
“Well, there isn’t a table standing between us.” She said it as if she was telling him a secret. “So, there’s nothing in the way of you casually leaning over to hold my hand, stroke my leg, or kiss me.”
They held each other’s gaze.
“Not that I want you to touch my leg, hold my hand, or kiss me,” she backtracked.
“I could if you wanted me to.”
“Just to test out the research.” She smiled.
“Anything in the name of science.” He nodded. “I aced my AP Chemistry classes, so I take these things very seriously.”
“So, in your scientific opinion, how would we make it absolutely clear to the rest of the room that we’re together?” she said, looking over at the athletes in matching uniforms.
“Well, I could lean over,” he said, until their heads were just a few inches apart.
“You could.” She didn’t flinch.
“And whisper something in your ear,” he said, doing exactly that, smiling as he noticed her bite her lip and then quickly regain her composure.
“Then what?” she asked, daring him to go on.
“I could tuck your hair back,” he said, wrapping a curl around his fingers, slowly sliding it behind her ear, and tracing his finger down the side of her face before gently stroking the tip of her chin.
The tension between them thickened into a hum.
He glanced down at her lips, wanting to close the space between them. But he knew he couldn’t.
“If we wanted to make it absolutely clear,” she said casually, “I could put my hand on your leg.” She gently laid her palm on his thigh and drew a tiny circle with her thumb. The touch sent a shiver up his spine.
“And then I could run my fingers over the stubble on your chin,” she said, gently tracing the tips of her fingers across his skin and casually setting a trail of nerve endings alight as her fingers swept over his cheeks and then up to his bottom lip.
“Then what?” she asked. There was a twinkle in her eyes; she enjoyed the game as much as he did.
“I could kiss you.”
He let the answer float in the air for a second. Felt his heartbeat quicken. Noticed her attention flicker down to his lips for a moment before returning his gaze. Their faces were just a few centimeters apart. Close enough to touch.
“But we’re not outside a French restaurant,” she whispered.
“And this isn’t a real date.”
Yet there they were, sitting thigh to thigh on the sofa, an unmistakable spark threatening to take them past the point of no return.
But they couldn’t go against the rules. So, Drew leaned back, reached for a menu, and broke the spell.
This couldn’t go anywhere, so there was no point in letting it start. Right?