Chapter 13 #2
“What kind of something?”
“Anything. Something I don’t know.”
I think about it.
“I used to listen to ABBA before competitions. Specifically Dancing Queen. Every single time.”
He laughs. “That’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Something more - I don’t know - classical. Serious.”
“Oh, the program was very serious. That’s exactly why I needed ABBA.”
He laughs again and pulls me closer and I let him.
“Your turn.”
A pause.
“I’ve never told anyone how scared I am about not getting scouted,” he says. “Not Chen. Not Zane. Not anyone.”
I lift my head and look at him in the dark.
“Thank you again. For the stairwell.”
I put my head back down on his chest.
“ABBA,” I say. “Next time you’re spiraling.”
He laughs, and I feel it through his chest.
We lie there a while longer, easy and content, and I’m almost asleep when his hand stills on my arm and he says, very casually.
“So.”
“So,” I say.
A pause.
“I’m not tired,” he says.
I lift my head and look at him.
He watches me with an expression of complete innocence that fools nobody.
“You’re unbelievable,” I say.
“You’ve mentioned that. Couple of times. In the last hour.”
I laugh before I can stop it and he grins. I push myself up and look down at him in the dark and think:
Yeah.
Okay.
One more time.
MATEO
She pushes me onto my back and straddles me, and I watch her roll a fresh condom down my length with fingers that are surprisingly sure. Then she positions herself over me and sinks down slowly, and the look on her face - eyes closed, lips parted - is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You feel amazing,” I breathe.
She starts to move.
Slow at first, rolling her hips in a way that makes me grip her thighs. Then faster, finding a rhythm that works for both of us, her hands braced on my chest, her hair falling around her face like a curtain.
“Quiet,” she reminds me, and I almost laugh because she’s the one making sounds now - little gasps, bitten-off moans, the occasional whispered fuck in Swedish that I don’t understand but feel in my bones.
“I’m close,” I warn her.
“Good.”
She rides me harder, and I watch her come undone above me - her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent cry, her body clenching around mine. The sight of it pushes me over the edge, and I come with my hands on her hips and my eyes on her face.
She collapses onto my chest.
We lie there for a long time, breathing together, the sweat cooling on our skin. Her heartbeat matches mine. I can feel it through her ribs, through her breasts pressed against me, through every place where our bodies touch.
“That was-” she starts.
“Yeah.”
“I was going to say reckless.”
“It was that too.”
She lifts her head and looks at me. The moon has shifted, casting different shadows across her face, and whatever she sees in my expression makes her smile - small, almost shy, nothing like the composed woman who stood on the ice and told me my standard wasn’t high enough.
“We can’t do this again.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“After tonight-”
“Elida.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “We can talk about it in the morning. Okay? Just… let me stay here tonight.”
She nods, her cheek against my chest, and I pull the blanket over us both.
ELIDA
I wake before dawn.
He’s asleep beside me, his arm heavy across my waist, his breathing deep and even. I watch him for a minute - the dark sweep of his lashes, the slight parting of his lips, the way his hand curls toward me even in sleep like he’s holding onto something.
I should wake him and kick him out before anyone wakes up and notices he’s not there. That’s the sensible thing. That’s the professional thing. That’s what I promised myself I would do.
Instead, I lie there, memorizing him.
When his eyes open, I don’t look away.
“Hey,” he says, voice rough with sleep.
“Hey.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Some.”
He pulls me closer, and I go willingly, my body slotting against his like it belongs there. His hand traces idle patterns on my back, and I close my eyes and let myself pretend, for a minute, that this is simple.
“What time is it?” I ask.
He checks his phone. “Seven forty.”
“Bus is at nine.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of us moves.
“Last night-” I start.
“Was good,” he says simply. Not pressuring it. Not making it into something that needs resolving at seven forty in a Marriott in Ridgewood.
There are footsteps in the corridor outside - loud, multiple, voices I recognize, Barrett’s laugh carries through the door like a foghorn and we both freeze.
The footsteps pass.
We exhale at exactly the same moment.
Then we’re both laughing, quietly, faces close.
“You should go.”
He looks at me for a moment. Like he wants to say something and is deciding whether to.
“Okay,” he says.
He sits up and finds his things in the grey light, unhurried. I sit up too and pull the sheet around me and watch him.
At the door he turns.
“Elida.”
“Go,” I say. Softly.
He gives me one last long look.
Then he goes.
I lie back in the empty bed and listen to his footsteps fade down the corridor.
MATEO
I make it back to my room without running into anyone, which is either luck or the universe deciding to give me one thing for free.
I shower and pack. Then I sit on the edge of my bed for a moment.
Last night.
I press my hands together. There’s no coherent plan for what comes next - I can’t find one, and I’m not sure I want one.
I’m already thinking about the bus and sitting near her after what we just did - whether that’s going to be survivable.
It’s going to be fine.
I grab my bag.
It’s going to be absolutely fine.