Chapter Three #4
Alexo’s words ring in my head. That’s what he called this opportunity. His security blanket.
Everything about him feels inadvertently familiar, and I’m right back where I was years ago, losing my mind and desperate for Seb to ground me.
I don’t want to need Seb. I worked hard to not need him, and he’s got Thio now. He moved on and healed and he’s healthy, happy.
But this thing with Alexo is consuming me already, and I have months of interacting with him coming my way.
How do I function when every single thing about him seems like it was made to call to me?
It’s not his fault, and I can’t make it his problem, and gods damn it, I haven’t been this unhinged in years.
I come to a stop in the middle of the track, planting my forearms on top of my head, phone loose in one hand, and breathe.
This is just a setback. I knew I’d struggle with the lawsuit ending; my therapist and I have spent the past few months preparing for expected stumbles and pain. I knew I’d struggle with Urzoth, too, even if that went a bit differently than I’d intended.
A setback doesn’t mean all my years of striving to be better vanish. I can choose how I go forward from here.
And I choose to go forward as the person I want to be, not with the ghosts I’m running from.
I lower my phone and switch to a different contact, hit call, and hold it up to my ear.
“Hey, Mom,” I say as soon as it connects.
“Orok!” she exclaims. I smile; it’s involuntary. Seb used to tease me for what a momma’s boy I am.
My smile wavers. I’d planned to call her tonight. To tell her I’d renounced Urzoth.
“How are you?” she asks. “Are you at practice?”
“In a bit. I wanted to, uh, tell you something.”
Silence hangs. Even without being able to see her, I can feel her expression, that brief lip twist that signifies she’s worried I’m going to talk about the lawsuit.
Seb specifically stopped teasing me about being a momma’s boy once he realized that I’m only a momma’s boy if we avoid certain topics. For a while, it was Seb himself and his inappropriately weak influence on me. For the past four years, it’s been the lawsuit.
When the news came through yesterday that we won, I texted her about it. Didn’t call.
My parents both left the message on read.
I don’t let the silence hang for long. “I met someone.”
Because if this thing between me and Alexo is meant to look real, I’d absolutely tell my mother about it.
I ignore the twinge in my stomach at the reminder that this is a lie.
She sucks in a breath. It sounds more relieved than excited. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Do I know them?”
“Him. And no. Well, maybe? Have you or dad been on any pro rawball sites since last night? I wanted to tell you before it started getting too spread around.”
There’s a pause, a muffled conversation I can’t hear, and my mom returns with, “No, we haven’t been online in a bit, but we will now. What are we looking for?”
Great. I pinch the skin over my nose. “There was an … incident. I got into a bit of a situation at a bar, and—”
“A situation?” Her interest piques.
Just say it. All at once. “A guy was being rude to someone and I intervened, and the person I stepped in for ended up being—”
“Orok! A fight? How did you stop that man? How brutal was it? What did Urzoth call you to do?”
“It didn’t escalate to that, but—”
“You didn’t even need to fight him? Oh, I’m so proud of you! This is what Urzoth’s strength is best used for—asserting dominance so all around know your might without you even needing to display it. Strong as stone.”
“Hard as rock,” I say automatically, then wince. “But anyway—the man I saved is who I’m seeing now. And the rawball tabloids are running with it, so I wanted to tell you before you saw anything. Keep you in the loop.”
“Behind-the-scenes information?” There’s a smile in her voice.
I echo it. “Yeah. Behind the scenes.”
“Well, thank you. Will we get to meet him soon?”
My parents live a few hours from Philly, but if Alexo and I are meant to keep up this charade all season, they’ll definitely cross paths.
“Yeah. I mean, if things work out. His name’s Alexo.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re happy. And I’m glad you’re using your position and fame to bring light to Urzoth. We’ll pray for you and Alexo.”
Back to squeezing the skin over my nose. “Thanks, Mom. I gotta get to practice.”
“We love you.”
She hangs up, and I hold there, phone to my ear, pinching the shit out of my nose to stem the headache pulsing behind my forehead.
A tap on my shoulder has me vaulting a foot in the air.
Marlow stands on the track behind me, outfitted for a run.
“Gods, Darian’s right,” I groan. “You do need a bell.”
“I feed off your terror,” she says, her ring translating. But she’s grinning, looking almost conspiratorial, and she shimmies back and forth before signing, “So, you’ve got a new boyfriend?”
I scowl and pocket my phone. “How’d you even—”
“I can read lips. The subtitle earrings just make my life easier. You and the guy from the bar? You were shitfaced last night; there’s no way you took him home. What happened?”
My mouth opens.
Uh.
What did happen?
“Turns out he works here.” I wave at HQ, behind Marlow.
“It’s a bit early to say we’re dating, but the sites figured us out, and he did agree to see me, so we’re taking it slow, but …
um. Yeah. Not much to tell yet. Kind of boring, really, but I wanted to tell my mom before she saw something and erupted, ya know?
Moms. And stuff. They can be. Ya know. Ya know? ”
Oh my gods.
Did the publicity people brief us on a cover story? They might’ve while I was comatose in Roesia’s office. Super helpful right now. I’m doing great.
Marlow blinks at me, her confused gaze going from my eyes to my lips and back again like she’s not entirely sure she understood me right.
“Okaaaaay,” she says, making sure to sign it in a long, drawn-out, disbelieving way I do not appreciate.
I shove the side of her head. “Race you?”
“Well, that’s not fair to you. Choke on my dust, tank.” And she bolts up the track.
I hurry after her, focusing on her taunting, on the heat of the sun, on the upcoming practice.
On anything else, literally anything else, other than Alexo. Or Seb. Or Urzoth.
Or Alexo.
Mostly Alexo.
Fuck my life.