Chapter Thirty-Seven
The amount of fanfare at the Vox Telecom Milan building made it feel like the main drag of the Met Gala, paparazzi and all.
Team USA was gathered in our red, white, and blue glory for the sponsored kickoff dinner before the Games began, which meant
that the room was filled with gorgeous athletes trying hard to tamp down the urge to cut loose and party.
Some of us were doing a better job than others, seeing as the men’s hockey team was strategizing to find a way to turn the
Olympic Rings ice sculpture into a shot luge.
“Are we going to be forced to listen to smooth jazz the whole night?” Erica leaned close to me and shouted over the sax. “Because
this is torture.”
“I saw a DJ setting up by the dance floor,” Kayla said. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a chance to shake that ass.”
All I cared about was trying to spot Ben in the crowd. I hadn’t seen him since Nizza Monferrato and our texting had dwindled
to an acceptable but still a little concerning level. I kept reminding myself that this was what I wanted, what we’d agreed to, but I still had flashbacks to
the way things had ended up last time.
But nothing was the same as last time, in all the best possible ways.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to find a smiling woman with a press badge around her neck.
“Hi, Quinn! I’m Lucia with The Score and we’re hoping to chat with you and the rest of your teammates. Just some quick sound bites about the event tonight.”
It made sense that they were the only press on-site since CineBinge and Vox Telecom were under the same parent company. I’d
heard the word “synergy” more times than I could count during the evening’s opening speech.
“Yay!” Kayla said. “I look extra-cute tonight.”
“Same,” Erica said, doing a double shoulder hitch and pose. “I’m ready.”
Lucia laughed. “Perfect. Keep that energy. We’re set up right over here, follow me, please.”
I immediately spotted Kim among the people gathered around the branded step and repeat, watching snowboarders answer questions.
I scanned the rest of the crew and finally found Ben toward the back, arms crossed and forehead furrowed.
The crowds and noise and lights fell away while I studied him. I knew without a doubt that I was looking at Ben being benched.
The interview action was all up near the step and repeat, where the snowboard team was currently trying to make a human pyramid.
Kim was right at the edge of it next to correspondent Maizey Liu, along with a camera crew I didn’t recognize. No Neil and
Hailey.
“Excuse me for a sec,” I said to Erica, and she nodded without looking at me, totally focused on snowboarder Kyle Hobbs.
I fought for control of my body as I got closer to Ben, because we were in a public space surrounded by a billion phones.
The narrative about the two of us had a life of its own, but I wasn’t about to add new chapters by getting cozy with him.
If anyone was watching all they’d see was a friendly drive-by at a socially acceptable distance apart.
He was so locked on to the action that he didn’t see me approach or notice when I paused next to him. I was almost afraid
to interrupt his hardcore staring.
“Hey you,” I finally said.
He jumped. “Oh, hey!”
His expression immediately relaxed into the Ben I’d become oh so familiar with, as if seeing me was the antidote to whatever
poison his body was processing.
Ben moved a half step closer to me but maintained the buffer. “You look fucking amazing,” he said quietly.
I ran my hand down the front of my cobalt velvet dress. “This old thing?”
The corner of his mouth tugged up. I knew exactly what his devilish expression meant.
“How’s it going?” I jutted my chin toward the action.
His smile disappeared. “I wouldn’t know. They’ve got me riding the pine.”
My stomach clenched. So my theory was correct.
“Any clue why? Because your episode is doing great. People love it.”
“Our episode,” he corrected me. “And I’m not sure. But it’s fine, don’t worry about me. All good. Maybe Maizey was feeling left
out or something?”
His reassurances sounded genuine but the cloud of frustration remained.
“Ben . . .” I began. I glanced around and moved closer to him. “It’s me. You don’t have to fake it. What’s going on?”
He locked on to me, his eyes stormy. “Quinn, everything is fine, I promise. This setup is our final one for the night. I’m not hungry so I’m probably going to head out before they start serving dinner. You need to focus on the event and have fun. Drink it in. It’s for you.”
“Eh,” I tipped my head back and forth. “It sort of feels like it’s for our host, not us. Everything is branded.” I pointed to the table of Vox Telecom water bottles behind him.
There was a fine line between celebrating the athletes and making us props in their content, and while I was honored beyond
belief to be at the Games, it felt like the dinner had been born in a boardroom.
“I’m leaving with you.”
“Quinn, no,” he insisted. “Stay.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to be here. I’m overstimulated. I’ll just say I need to rest, and we can hang out.”
He sighed warily, because it wasn’t what we’d agreed to.
“C’mon,” I said, poking him in his stomach, which was unsurprisingly rock hard. “Let’s play hooky. Isn’t that sort of your
brand?”
I could’ve sworn I saw tension flash across his face. “I haven’t been that guy in a long time.”
I’d accidentally discovered a pain point. I backtracked. “Sorry, you’re right. Correspondent Ben is nothing but professional.”
“Hey, Quinn? We’re ready,” someone called out, and the crowd in front of us turned around to stare at me.
“Please wait for me,” I whispered. “Don’t leave until I’m done.”
He nodded and I walked up to the step and repeat to join the entire team of skaters in front of the cameras. I played along
during the silly Q&A session, keeping one eye on Ben to make sure that he didn’t try to sneak away.
I could sense his unhappiness despite the wall of people between us. The dim lighting didn’t hide the furrow between his eyebrows.
“Do you mind if I head out?” I asked Erica and Kayla as we were herded away from the cameras. “I’m just not feeling this tonight.”
“Aw, are you sick?” Kayla asked, frowning at me.
I shook my head. “I’m tired, that’s all. I could use a couple of hours of quiet.”
With Ben.
“Okay. I’m staying here until they kick me out, so enjoy the alone time,” Erica said.
“Same,” Kayla echoed. “This is the last fun I’m having until it’s all over.”
“Enjoy. Make smart choices,” I cautioned, staying true to my chaperone roots.
I caught up to Ben in the lobby that was so tricked out with red, white, and blue that it felt like a political rally.
“Ready?” I asked. “They know you’re leaving?”
“They do. But you’re not.”
He fixed me with a glare that made me wonder if something had shifted between us. Instead of answering I walked to the coat
check and handed over my ticket, staring at him with a “try me” expression. I made a show of putting my coat on and buttoning
it all the way up while he watched.
“Let’s go,” I said, striding past him as fast as my stilettos would allow.
My hand was on the door when he caught up.
“I carpooled with them so I was planning to walk back to my hotel.” He nodded toward my feet. “Those aren’t walking shoes.”
I pursed my lips at him. “Every jump I land puts pressure on me that’s five times my body weight. On one leg. So I think I can handle a few blocks in Louboutins. Anyway, my toes no longer have feeling.”
“Hey, at one point I wanted to shave off my pinkie toes because of the pinching, so I get it.” He paused. “But are you sure you want to leave?”
I answered by pushing open the door and pirouetting out. I’d dressed for a “cab to curb” night, forgoing a hat and gloves
to be cute. Now I was going to pay the price, but it was worth it.
Ben caught up to me and I finally saw a smile.
The quiet night felt like the perfect antidote to the energy of the party. I hadn’t had much time to sightsee other than our
side quest to the countryside, so I craned my neck to take in the beautiful moonlit architecture all around us. It was a place
where medieval, lace-front churches coexisted with glass skyscrapers.
“What’s the vibe with the crew?” I asked as we fell in step. “Is it going well?”
“Definitely,” he answered a little too quickly. “The coverage has been phenomenal.”
I smacked my forehead. “Oh my god, I’ve been meaning to ask you where Neil and Hailey are! I thought they were coming too.”
“Things change all the time in production,” he said, staring at his feet as we walked. “Just like we experienced with your
show. I haven’t connected with them in a bit but I’m pretty sure they were reassigned.”
“Bummer,” I said. “It seemed like they were excited to come.”
“It’s a tough business,” he answered with a shrug.
The streets turned to cobblestones as we walked through a more crowded part of town. One of the busy restaurants had a speaker mounted outside that was playing a lovely piano song with a woman singing in Italian. I paused to listen.
“It’s a waltz,” I said.
I started swaying, and when it coaxed a smile from Ben I got a little more dramatic. He glanced around.
“You realize that if any of the people in these restaurants look out they’ll see you.”
“Let ’em,” I said, amping up the performance even more. “What’s the saying? Dance like no one’s watching?”
I one-two-three-ed by Ben, hoping to jolly him out of whatever had parked a black cloud over his head. It felt like a role
reversal, but I owed it to him. He’d spent his time with me regulating everything to help keep me sane and happy, and now
it was my turn.
“Come on,” I held out my hand. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Ben looked around again. “Fine,” he sighed. “But we’re doing it my way.”
He reached out and grabbed my hand, then pulled me to him while simultaneously walking backward toward the shadows of the
buildings.
He took me into his arms and paused, I assumed to find the beat before he started twirling me about. But instead of launching
into movement he pulled me tightly to his body and barely shifted his weight.
“Like this,” he whispered in my ear.
He swayed, slow as molasses but somehow still in time to the music. I’d expected a big, dramatic waltz like the one he’d done
with Justin, but our version was intimate. Just for the two of us clenched together and hardly moving in the dimly lit alley.
I rested my cheek on his shoulder and let him lead, the thick wool of my coat and his puffy down parka a chaperone between our bodies.
The only skin-to-skin contact was our raised hands, but it was enough.
I could still feel the rise and fall of his chest, and the pressure of his palm pressed against my lower back.
I closed my eyes, blocking out the cold weaving around my bare legs.
“Hey,” he said in my ear.
I raised my head to find him watching me hungrily, doing that thing that rendered every human he came in contact with lulled
and powerless to resist him.
I wasn’t sure who kissed whom, all that mattered was that it was happening. Our dance slowed so that we could both focus on
how it felt to finally kiss again. He let go of my hand to gently grasp the nape of my neck, and when I closed my eyes to
savor the sensation I saw fireworks. Ben pushed against the wall and pinned me there. We kissed for I don’t know how long.
It struck me how effortless we were together. How our body parts slotted together perfectly, like we belonged tangled up in each other’s arms. Each new
touch felt choreographed and surprising at the same time,
It took effort but we finally pulled apart, each breathless and pink cheeked.
“Come to my place,” I whispered. “Kayla and Erica won’t be home for hours. Please.”
“Quinn, you know that’s not a good idea. The agreem—”
I went up on my tiptoes to kiss the words from his mouth and I swore I could feel his resistance faltering.
“Abstinence,” he muttered against my mouth. “Before you compete. It’s important.”
The way he kissed me made me doubt he believed it.
“Debunked lore,” I countered and nipped his bottom lip. “There’s no scientific evidence that it has an impact.”
“But . . .” He kissed each eyelid then traced lower. “The cardboard bed . . .”
My head dropped back to give him more access to my neck. “I’m sure you tested them in Switzerland.”
He pulled away abruptly, flustered but incredulous. “I’ll have you know that I had zero sex in Switzerland.”
I eyeballed him. Was it possible that he believed the abstinence hype, or was he just trying to convince me he didn’t man-whore
it up, considering we spent the night together?
It didn’t matter now.
“Then let’s go test that cardboard,” I whispered.