For the Win (11 page)

Chapter 27

Rory snores gently from the bed next to mine. Usually I’d be right there in dreamland with him, but I’m unsettled today, anxious, and I can’t sleep. I’m writing in my notebook when I notice a shadow cross the sliver of space beneath my door. It’s not a big deal; people roam the hallways all day and night, working on their own schedules. There are few rules in the dormitories, other than being respectful and the unwritten—but obvious—rule of staying clear of the gymnastics wing because, well, jailbait.

The shadow moves again, back and forth, back and forth until it pauses completely. I wait for a knock—something, but the shadow holds.

“Good grief.” Guessing it’s Allie, I leave my book on the bed and cross the room. “Need something?” I say, swinging the door open. The first thing I notice, besides those big brown eyes, is the number fifteen, faded and peeling.

Melina stands before me, hands balled at her sides.

“Hey,” she says quietly, looking down hall, like she’s checking to see if anyone notices her standing outside my room.

“Hey.”

“I thought you may be asleep.”

“Nah. Not tired for some reason.” Not wanting to wake Rory, I step forward to close the door. She steps back, maintaining the space between us.

“Do you think,” she starts, again balling her hands into tight fists. “Look, I need a ride to the store.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. I know it’s inconvenient but Allie went out to dinner with some of the other girls and I realized I forgot to pick up my prescription and I just won’t have time again until tomorrow night but by then I’ll be off by a day and…” She blinks, probably realizing she’s rambling. Mel never rambles. “So can you?”

I nod. “Sure, let me get my shoes and keys.”

She’s by the stairs when I emerge from my room. We walk out of the dorm and across campus without speaking—not for a lack of desire on my part. I have a hundred things to say to her, but each one seems like a landmine. Unlocking the van, I open the passenger door for her.

“Thanks.” Once she’s inside, I shut the door and make my way to the driver’s side, trying not to stress over the fact Melina is sitting in Sally—the only real home I’ve had in a year.

“You always do that.”

“What?” Cranking the engine, I navigate the car out of the parking lot.

“The polite door gesture. You know, opening the door for me—girls.”

I snort. “You’ve met my mother, right?”

“Your mother’s not here.”

I shrug. I’m not fighting with Melina about whether my being polite is an ingrained habit. Do I open the door for all women? That’s not something I feel like answering.

The training center was built on a huge piece of property far from any and all distractions, so the nearest pharmacy is about fifteen minutes away. Halfway there, Melina turns and looks at the back of the van.

“Huh.”

“What?” I ask, giving her the side-eye.

“Thought it would smell more like patchouli.” She glances at my hair, twisted in a tight bun, then down to my beard.

“Ha ha. Funny.”

“You really slept in here?”

“Every night.”

“Was it comfortable?”

“Actually, it was. Sort of like camping...but with a roof.”

She’s looking at everything. I sense her eyes scanning the photos I have stuck to the walls, the crates filled with supplies. It’s dark, but somehow I feel like she’s seeing me undressed. “Bet it was awkward bringing girls back here.”

“Are you kidding?” I ask. “Girls love my van. They beg to come see it. I mean, who doesn’t want to hook up with a guy who lives in a van?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t even want to know.”

The pharmacy looms ahead, its twenty-four-hour sign glowing against the darkness. I follow Melina into the brightly lit store, letting her have some space while she goes to the back. I don’t know what her prescription is for, but I’m sure it’s none of my business.

Roaming the aisles, I pick up a couple things for myself, a magazine, some Gatorade and then meet Melina back by the door after she’s checked out.

We’re the only ones in the parking lot, footsteps loud on the asphalt. “Got everything?” I ask.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem. Really.”

We’re back on the road when I glance over and see that she’s finally relaxed a little. She tugs at the red frayed cord on her hoodie—my hoodie—and in spite myself I say, “I’m surprised you didn’t burn that.”

Her forehead furrows as she glances down. “It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah.” A pang of nostalgia ghosts through my chest, and I smile a little. “Brings back some memories.”

She cuts me a look from the corner of her eye, but I know her memories match mine. Hot hands and scabby knees. Bruises from games and the thrill of victory. Hungry stomachs matched only by ravenous kisses. Back then, her wearing this hoodie meant something.

“I guess I’m just glad you didn’t see fit to remove me completely from your life,” I admit. So far we’ve managed to avoid talking about our past, but I suspect she thinks about it as much as I do. “You could have, easily. If we weren’t here we might have gone years without seeing one another again—at least outside of Allie.” I gesture to the hoodie. “You could have just thrown all this away and...I don’t know. I’m glad you didn’t.”

Shoving her hands into the wide pocket across the bottom of the sweatshirt, she stares out the window. “I wanted to.”

“Toss it all?”

“Destroy it. All of it. Like, I had visions of throwing it all in a pit and burning everything that reminded me of you into ash. Like a cleansing ceremony or something.”

I swallow. “What stopped you?”

“Allie.”

This surprises me. “She told you not to?”

“No.” She shakes her head, still looking away. “As long as I’m friends with her then there’s no getting away from you. So I had to deal with it. Deal with you no matter how hard it was to see what you were doing to yourself—to us.”

There’s a something in her voice that feels familiar. Anger, for sure. Maybe fear. Exhaustion. She sounds just like my mother did when I woke up in the hospital in Greenville.

Back at the training center, I find a parking place in the packed lot. I spy my sister up ahead, walking back into the residence hall with a group of her teammates.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” I ask, jerking my chin toward the group.

“Eh, I just needed a break.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Her forehead creases, but her voice remains even. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Is Allie okay?”

“Define ‘okay’.”

I settle back against my seat. “Her injury. Her attitude. The stress. Whatever happened with Marcus. Me. The pressure. The journalist following us around…”

“Oh, that.” She sighs. “I think she’s doing okay. I mean, you know Allie. Her foot is definitely bothering her, though, and will probably keep her from having the playing time she wants and deserves.”

“What about the rest of it?”

“She’s strong, Julian. An Olympian. She’s pretty excited about just experiencing everything in Rio.”

That’s true. She’s always bounced back quicker than I have. “Right.”

We get out of the car, meeting up by the front bumper. “You’re welcome to come hang out in Sally whenever you want...sleep...eat...just get away from it all.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Thanks?”

“It’s peaceful. Just close the door, pop open the windows, and take a deep breath.”

“Is that what you tell all the girls to get them in the back of your van?”

I smile because, for once, she’s smiling at me. “I know you expect me to say yes, but I can’t. There were no girls.”

“Sure.”

“Not one, Mel. Not since I got sick.”

She narrows her eyes like she’s trying to read my mind or catch me in a lie, but my conscience is clean. Just like my health these days. I pocket Sally’s keys and start back to the dorm. It’s late and waking up tomorrow is going to suck, but as I look over my shoulder and see Melina following close behind I know it was worth it.

Reporter
: You’ve got five days before the end of training. What happens next?

Julian
: We’ll go home for a week to rest, pack, visit with our families.

Reporter
: Will you and Allie both go home?

Julian
: Yeah. We’ll go see our mom. She’s pretty excited about all of this.

Reporter
: I can imagine.

Julian
: Actually, you probably can’t.

Reporter
: What do you mean?

Julian:
Well, our mom was in college when she got pregnant. She was only 19. Having one baby and finishing school would have been hard enough, but she had two.

Reporter
: Did she finish?

Julian
: Eventually. My dad wasn’t around, but my grandparents stepped in so she got her degree. She got a job and we found a nice apartment...but then I got sick and it really threw us off for a while.

Reporter
: Sounds like she had it tough.

Julian
: She did, but she never complained and she always pushed us to do our best. Or better than. *
laughs
* That’s why she was so pissed when I messed up at Clemson. We’d all worked way too hard for me to blow it like that.

Reporter
: Do you think she’s proud of you?

Julian
: It doesn’t matter. We’re proud of her.

Chapter 28

“What’s it like?” Rory stands by his locker, rolling deodorant over his armpit. He looks at Mendez. “The Village?”

Mendez and Bryant played on the 2012 team; if anyone has experience with the Olympics and what to expect, it would be them.

“Awesome,” Bryant says.

“Insane,” Mendez adds, with a smirk.

“It’s great. There’s an amazing energy that rolls through, being with so many other elite athletes. Sort of like this, but with the actual competitiveness of the games.” Johnson walks by with a towel slung low on his hips, a tattoo of the Olympic rings peeking out from under the fabric. It’s tradition, one way of showing membership to such an elite club.

“I hear there are a lot of parties,” Rory says.

I tug my shirt over my head and sit on the bench, eager to hear any specifics. I may as well have a sign on my forehead that blinks the word ‘Noob’.

“You know what they say.” Bryant’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“What?” I ask.

“What happens in the Village stays in the Village.”

Rory’s jaw hangs. “It can’t be that crazy. I mean, everyone has to compete.”

Mendez shrugs. “Some events are over early on, so the athletes stick around and party. Others just need to blow off steam.”

“I heard they have a standing order of over a hundred thousand condoms,” Bryant adds. “Just for the Village.”

“No shit?” I’m impressed. And, frankly, a little apprehensive. “They just hand them out?”

“Yeah.” Bryant finishes dressing and flashes the gold band on his left ring finger. “Unfortunately I’ll have to sit this year out, but you guys have at it—you know, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the games.”

“How do you balance it?” Rory asks. I already know the answer for myself: I don’t.

But Mendez gives a cocky grin. “Just like everything else. You either focus until the games are over, abstain like Bryant, or dive in and figure it out. Personally, I’m a big fan of the pregame fuck. Gets the nerves out and damn, once you see these women…well. You know. You’ve been around these girls the last couple of weeks. It’s that times thousands, each one just as hot as the other.”

“And some crazier than you could imagine.” Bryant nods knowingly. “I thought college was wild. Fuck no. Frat parties have nothing on this.”

I think about Melina and the girls on the team. Their hard bodies, cut and ready. The stamina and focus. Combined with the adrenaline of competing, the gold medals and unlimited access…I swallow.

Mendez peers down at me. “What’s that look for?”

Johnson laughs. “I think he just realized his sister is going to be there.”

“And his ex,” Rory adds, non-helpfully.

Dom struts into the room, although I notice the way his hip catches from an old injury. “Anderson’s benched from any sort of partying until the games are over.” He cuts me a look. “Not that we’ll need you on the field...but still. You’re not going to fuck it up for the whole team by going off on a bender.”

I squelch my irritation, as well as the urge to tell him to fuck off, and shrug. Bryant gives me a grin. “We can hang together. With Pollard. He’s married and a Mormon.”

“Sounds great,” I say, with false enthusiasm.

I shove my stuff into my bag and stand, leaving the others to tell Rory the rest of the sordid details. If I’m going to survive next month, I’m going to need a serious game plan.