Chapter 19 #2
After all that, he says, “Shit, dude.”
I chew my bottom lip. “I don’t think I’ve actually said sorry yet.”
“No, I mean—apology accepted.” He shakes his head like he’s trying to shake off double vision. “That’s like… a lot.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Nah, sounds like you’ve been tortured enough. What do they call that?”
“Karma?” Alex offers while leaning against the wall on the edge of our little secrets circle.
“Contrapasso?” These last few months have definitely been their own special circle of hell.
He responds with a resounding, “Just-deserts is what I was thinking.” He rests his head on the base of the bed. “So, are you and Coach going to make up?”
“Can we please call him Christos?”
Terrence and Alex ask, “Why?”
“He’s still Coach to me,” Terrence points out.
Meanwhile, Alex argues, “I still think you’re into authority figures.”
She couldn’t be more wrong, but we are not getting into that in front of Terrence of all people.
“I don’t know if we’re going to work. The sneaking around sucked.”
“Yeah,” Terrence shrugs. “But I was the only one who noticed and now that I know, I could help cover for you.” I’m shocked by the offer, which he notices, adding, “I don’t see what the big deal is.
He’s not your coach, or a teacher, or anything.
Worst he would do if you broke up is ban you from the rink. ”
“Which he won’t,” I say. “I already tried giving him the key back and he refused.”
“See, he’s a good guy. Why should anyone get in the way of that?”
I can almost hear Alex’s eye roll from across the room. “Because he’s still an adult with more influence?”
Terrence and I turn to Alex, who scoffs.
“Oh like you won’t have to deal with this forever. So long as you two are together people will think it’s weird.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re being petty since your silver-daddy relationship didn’t pan out.”
She twirls a strand of hair. “Maybe. Or maybe you should listen to your friend who has more experience. Come on, Roderick, you’re smart, do the math. When you’re twenty-five he’ll be, what, forty?”
“Thirty-nine,” I correct. Even if that’s not the point.
“Yeah, but lots of relationships have age gaps,” Terrence argues. “My dad is like ten years older than my mom.”
Alex counts off on her fingers. “He’s still a coach. At your college. Who will forever be a decade older.”
I’m not sure how to argue with that, but I don’t have to with Terrence here.
“Rod’s also about to be an Olympic champion.
He’s got way more heft to throw around than Coach.
Not literal heft. Social capital? Point is, he’s not your average twenty-one-year-old college student.
” It is a sound argument but he has to keep talking.
“And sounds like you’ve dipped into the sugar jar too. ”
Alex sneers. “Excuse me?”
I almost jump forward to physically get between them. “Alex is trying to help, same as you. Ultimately, it’s my decision. So both of you, drop it.”
I glance between them. Alex’s shoulders up around her ears while Terrence is unfazed.
We lock eyes, his drifting up to my hairline. “What’s up with the hair?”
“I wanted to dye it pink for a long time.”
“Aren’t the judges like…” He lifts up a pinky and his voice follows, jumping to a higher register. “Oh, the scandal, deduct ten points.”
“No. Kinda. But I don’t care.”
His face screws with confusion, leaning as if he’s checking to make sure I’m the real Roderick and not some evil clone. Which would explain a lot. Alex’s shoulders settle, now watching me with a considerate expression.
“I’m getting gold on my own terms. As me. Not a softened version of me that I think nine judges will prefer. Especially not when the whole world will be watching. I’m going to have people love me and hate me in equal measure. Let them obsess over something genuine.”
Terrence claps once. Twice. A round of applause that rivals a full hockey rink. I start to roll my eyes when he pulls me into a hug.
“You’re the fucking coolest dude.”
My vision blurs. This stupid jock has me all in my feelings. He lets me go but keeps a hand on my shoulder. Alex kneels down, joining us on the floor.
“Eat your heart out, Steele.” She gives me a hug as well. Still squeezing me, she whines. “I’m so pissed I won’t be there!” Then fake, or maybe not fake, cries in my ear.
“Maybe you can keep Terrence company, since he’s got plenty of free time.”
“Yeah.” He flops onto the floor. “I’m suspended from hockey for the rest of the season.”
It’s far from breaking news, but it still makes my chest ache.“That sucks, man.”
He shrugs, raising his hands to cradle the back of his head. “So did that fresh-shit rookie. No loss there, I’d rather get booted from hockey for a fight than unsportsmanlike conduct.”
“More time for ragers?” I offer.
Terrence shoots back up.
“Beer Olympics in your honor?” He snaps and points at Alex. “Alexandra, you in? You could be the torchbearer.”
Alex’s crocodile tears cease. “What like, beerpong?”
“Beerpong, relay, dizzybat, boozeball, thunderstruck, all the classics. You know any Russian drinking games we could add?”
She stares at him, mystified. “I… don’t know what most of those are.”
“You wanna find out? Party at Rho-House tonight.”
She hisses in my ear, “I don’t know what that means.”
“Frat party. You should go.” If anyone deserves to get wasted off beer and sticky juice cocktails, its Alex. “You’ll watch out for her, yeah?”
“Leroy is on drunk duty. So, she'll be in perfect hands.”
Alex perks up. “The cute Devil hockey player?”
Terrence grins. “I think you mean, the major hottie two way forward? And yes, he’ll be there Rod, you in?”
“Pass.”
“Had to offer.” He gets up and offers me a hand, yanking me up off the floor followed by a stiff but good-natured slap on the back.
I return the gesture with a tap on his shoulder. “No more secrets between us?”
“I dunno…” A goofy smile stretches across his lips. Even before he says anything, I know what’s going on. “You’re not the only guy who has been getting tail.”
Despite his cool front, I know Terrence can’t help but fall for his hookups.
“You slut. Who?” I’ll find out soon enough, either when Terrence finally gets the girl to agree to be his girlfriend or when he comes home heartbroken. He’s been through enough this year, so I’m hoping for the former.
“I’ll tell you later. We’re not exclusive or anything. Actually, we’re pretty open.” A bit of information that is definitely not intended for me.
Alex eyes up Terrence like a shark smelling blood in the water.
I’m forcing myself to be okay with this. Not like I can stand here and judge my best friend's sex lives. Even if it feels like weird friendship-incest. Terrence, my bro-y big brother and Alex, my cunty sister. Maybe they’re soulmates. Now that would be some real divine punishment.
Terrence and Alex bail to go do god knows what.
The streetlamps right outside the dorm flicker on.
I return to the bathroom, deciding to style my hair despite having nowhere to go.
It’s actually nice, finding darker and lighter strands of pink as I preen.
It’s hard to remember why I waited for so long in the first place.
My phone buzzes with a reminder to do an hour of studying. I hit snooze, like I did with the last alarm to remind me to go practice in the dance studio. Maybe tomorrow I’ll regret taking a day off. Or the regret will hit me right when I’m mid-jump in Milan.
I’m confident that when I’m too old to skate, or dance, or have secret love affairs, I won’t look back on today with regret.
I’m not sure if it’s this revelation or the new hair or if it’s my nature to push my luck—but I leave my dorm room.
The cold night air is invigorating as I run to my car.
It’s like I blink and find myself on Christos’ street, parking my car right in front of his house.
The lights are on and his car is in the driveway.
Nothing blocks the inside light from spilling onto the porch, so I could still drive away without anyone the wiser.
I knock on the door and wait. I knock a second time, snooping in the window, trying to spot Christos making dinner or watching TV. He’s impossible to miss, but the living room is empty.
“Christos?” I call and knock again.
Maybe he’s showering. Or maybe he spotted my car and is hiding upstairs.
He offered me time to think. Typical selfish me, I didn’t offer him the same. But he has so much to think about. Maybe without the adrenaline of a bloody nose, he realized we won’t work. That he cares more about his job and team or that I am too young for him.
I’d respect his decision. I’d have to.
Even if he breaks my heart, Christos Samaras is a good man.
I bang on the door to be sure he can hear me over the shower or his headphones or whatever and step back waiting for the door to swing open. The cold is getting to me and I sniffle, my bottom lip trembling. Fuck—maybe I am too immature. Too selfish. Too much.
My head thunks against the door, the hollow sound oddly satisfying.
“Roderick?”
Christos is standing on the sidewalk with a pair of binoculars around his neck. I stare at him dumbfounded.
“I didn’t recognize you with the hair…”
If it wasn’t obvious that I was on the verge of tears, my breathy and broken voice does. “Where you—” I swallow, tasting salt in my mouth.
He looks up the length of the sidewalk. “There’s a trail not far from here. Supposed to be nicer in the spring, but I needed to clear my head.”
I nod, hoping the motion will shake the last of my tears away. “Did you see any good birds?”
He chuckles, putting one foot on the porch step but keeping his distance. “Lots of chickadees, nothing too exciting but it was a nice walk.” He takes another step, finally standing on the porch, blocking my exit.
“I told Terrence about us.”
He nods. “What did he say?”
“Shit, dude.” I sniffle. “Um, he’s actually weirdly supportive.”
“Jonas doesn’t believe me.”
That finally breaks the cloud of sadness hanging over me. “Why not?”
“Thinks you're too good for me.”
“He’s wrong.”
We stand there, in the cold, watching each other’s foggy breaths. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Finally he asks me, “Do you want to come inside?”