The Cheng was a vault named for a (male) Chinese gymnast. “Are you joking?”
“Is that crazy?”
“Has any woman ever even done a Cheng?”
“Simone Biles.”
Jake frowned. He worried for his little sister sometimes. He appreciated Chelsea’s adoration of Simone Biles—had there ever been a better female gymnast?—but he also worried about Chelsea under-rotating and breaking her neck. “Modified how?”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Don’t you pay attention in practice? Dad and I changed the landing. It ends with a layout so that I’m more likely to land on my feet.”
“Sorry, Chels, but I also have medals to win. I don’t sit in rapt attention whenever you’re in the gym.” It came out sounding more bitter than he intended, but at the same time, Chelsea sometimes forgot the world didn’t revolve around her. She might have been the best gymnast in the world—male or female—right then, but even if she was only the best gymnast in their family, she could acknowledge that Jake was also competing.
“Oh.” Chelsea shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
Jake took a deep breath. “Just be safe, all right. Don’t break any bones.”
“I can do the vault. I’ve landed it in practice a hundred times. I’ve just never done it at a meet, so it’s still a little bit of a question mark. But if I feel like it’s not gonna happen, I won’t try it.”
“Okay.”
They ate in companionable silence for a few moments. Jake looked around. He didn’t recognize anyone in the cafeteria, and no one was sitting close enough to overhear, so he said, “You ever think about life after gymnastics?”
Chelsea pointed a fork at him. “Shut your damn mouth.”
“No, I’m serious. You’ve probably got another Olympics in you, but I don’t. I’m going to have to do something else with my life.”
“You could coach.”
“I might do that, actually. I like working with little kids.”
Chelsea grinned. “Grooming the elite gymnasts of tomorrow.”
Jake nodded, but the reality was that he genuinely enjoyed being around children. He didn’t necessarily want to groom young gymnasts into the life he’d led. He didn’t really wish his grueling gymnastics schedule on anyone. But the kids were often just happy to be there, and Jake liked their unbridled enthusiasm. It was a lot of fun to tumble on the big mats. Jake sometimes forgot that gymnastics was supposed to be fun, but those kids reminded him. So coaching was a strong possibility. “But I wasn’t just talking about a job. What about family?”
Chelsea shrugged. She was only nineteen; she probably didn’t care much about starting a family yet. “I’ll date when I retire.”
“Yeah. But that’s what I mean. I dunno. Mom and Dad keep saying they’re okay with the gay thing, but what do you think they would do if I brought a boyfriend home?”
Chelsea narrowed her eyes at Jake and put her fork down. “Do you… you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”
“No. But I… well, I’ve met a guy here in Madrid. I mentioned him to Mom, actually. She seemed happy for me.”
“You met a guy!”
Jake waved his hands. “Shut up. There are ears everywhere. And I don’t even think it has the potential to go anywhere. Maybe we’ll hook up a couple of times before we fly back to our separate lives, and that’s it. But I keep imagining introducing him to Dad, and Dad losing his mind.”
“Romance is distraction!” Chelsea said in a good imitation of Valentin’s Russian accent.
“Well, that. But… I don’t know. I never felt like he was totally comfortable with having a gay son.”
“Dad loves you.” Chelsea waved a hand dismissively and then picked her fork back up. “I wouldn’t worry about it. And he never has to know about your Olympic fling.” She ate a bite of egg. “Who is it? Someone I know?”
“Retired athlete doing commentary for TBC.”
“Ooh. Is it Sam Norton? He’s dreamy. I didn’t know he was gay.”
“I don’t think he is. Also, this guy I… well, he’s not a gymnast.”
“I do know him, don’t I? That’s why you won’t tell me.”
Jake trusted Chelsea, but he suddenly felt nervous, afraid she’d judge him. His stomach flipped over. But he swallowed and said, “You know that figure skater, Christopher Caldwell?”
Chelsea’s eyes went wide. “You’re hooking up with Christopher Caldwell?” she whisper-shouted.
“No. Not hooking up. Yet. We’ve run into each other a few times and I like him, but that’s it so far. But I think we might hook up. He likes me back.”
“Okay.” Chelsea tilted her head as if she were trying to solve a math problem. “He’s kind of over-the-top, don’t you think? He interviewed a few of the women’s gymnastics team members a few days ago, and he was wearing a sheer white shirt with feathers on around the collar. In certain lighting, you could see his nipples. It was a lot of look.”
“I mean, yeah, he dresses a little strangely, but he’s really sexy and he… he gets me. He knows what it’s like to have all that expectation on your shoulders and then to let everyone down. Do you have any idea what I’ve gone through? To be labeled the best gymnast in your generation and then to fail? Repeatedly?”
Chelsea went pale. “Come on.” Her voice was soft.
“Sorry. It’s just that he understands that. He was in the same position I was at the last Olympics. In the same position I could still be in, because I could still fall off something at the all-around.”
“You won’t. You can do this.”
“I know… I’m just saying.” He hadn’t intended to make Chelsea feel bad, though it was clear she did now. He sighed. “It’s nice having someone to talk to who knows how all this feels. Can you guess how many people there are in the whole world who get that? It’s a minuscule number.”
Chelsea frowned. “Just be careful, Jakey.”
“I will be. But I’m not even saying that, like, I’m gonna marry the guy. He’ll probably lose my number once he gets back to New York.”
“You’ve exchanged phone numbers?”
“We’ve been… texting.”
Chelsea shook her head. Jake didn’t like that she was being judgmental, but he could also already hear the entire coaching staff of USA Gymnastics yelling at him for even thinking about sex when the Olympic all-around title was on the line. And Jake was most definitely thinking about what sex would be like with Topher.
Still, he said, “It’s nothing. Forget it. I’m just saying, someday, I’d like to get married, which means someday, I’ll have to introduce a man to Dad, and I don’t know how he’ll react.”
“I think he’d be okay with it, but I honestly don’t know either.” Chelsea polished off her breakfast sandwich. “Eat the toast.”
Jake laughed. “Thanks, lil sis. You’re so helpful.”
“You know, Georgia has a boyfriend back in Houston who she’s been texting with nonstop, and Dad keeps confiscating her phone.”
“But, see, it is possible to date and be an elite gymnast.”
“I mean, it’s possible. For Georgia.”
“Not for you?”
She waved a hand and nudged the plate of toast closer to Jake. “I have medals to win.”
“Well, you can check Olympic team gold off your list.”
“Yup. But I’m just getting started.”
TOPHER SPENT the morning recording introductions to some of the pieces he’d done so far, and when Joanna approached him to ask if there were any events he’d like to see that day during the hole in his schedule, he maybe got a little overexcited when he said, “Men’s gymnastics.”
Joanna seemed unfazed. “If I get you a ticket in the TBC section, can you do some stuff on social media for us? Short videos, photos, that kind of thing?”
“Absolutely.”
On his way to the venue, Topher texted Natalie, and she told him to come to the press area. He slid into the TBC staging area, grateful for the mag
ic of his press pass, and found Natalie chatting with Chelsea Mirakovitch.
Chelsea and Jake were unmistakably related; they had the same coloring, the same slightly pointed nose, the same arch to their eyebrows. Chelsea was like a miniature version of Jake, maybe five feet tall on her tiptoes, her features delicate where Jake’s were harder and more masculine. As Topher approached, Natalie said something that made Chelsea laugh, and the sound rang out over the din of conversation in the room.
“Oh, hey, Topher, let me introduce you to Chelsea.”
Topher held out his hand, and Chelsea gave it a squeeze. He couldn’t help but think about how this was the sister of the man he currently most desired. But he smiled and said, “Nice to see you again,” because he’d actually met her a few days before at a women’s gymnastics press event.
“Nice to see you too.”
Topher smiled at Chelsea. “Do you plan to watch the competition today?”
“Yes, part of it. Not from the stands, though. My father thinks watching from the stands will make it look like I’m not training every possible minute. I tried to argue that it showed confidence, but he thinks I need to intimidate the competition. So I came down here to see if I could watch the TBC feed.”
“What do you think of your brother’s chances?”
“Good, if he doesn’t blow it.”
Topher stepped back, surprised. Did no one in Jake’s family actually have faith in him?
“Sorry, that was harsh,” Chelsea said. “He has it in him to win gold, but he gets so nervous in competition that it makes him tighten up, and he makes mistakes.”
“He looked great in the team competition,” said Natalie. “You’d never know he was nervous.”
“I mean, I want him to win the gold medal. We had breakfast this morning, and he said he felt good.” She gave Topher a once-over. “This outfit seems… subdued for you.”
Topher looked down at his outfit. He had changed at the International Broadcast Center after filming his bits that morning, hoping to blend into the crowd better at the venue. But, still being himself, he wore a blue T-shirt with silver stars on it and a pair of charcoal gray trousers with red pinstripes—like a deconstructed American flag. He’d combed his hair away from his face into a pompadour atop his head and worn ruby earrings. “I can’t wear hot pink every day.”
Chelsea gave him an odd look he couldn’t interpret. Then she said, “There’s still, like, an hour before the competition really starts, right? What time is it?”
Natalie pointed to the wall clock. Chelsea excused herself and stepped away to fiddle with her phone. Topher hoped she was wishing her brother good luck.
Topher turned to Natalie. “So, I had an idea, if I can get access to some of TBC’s archival footage. I want to pitch it to Joanna. Tell me what you think of it.”
“Shoot,” said Natalie.
“Before the women’s all-around, I think it might be interesting to do, like, a brief history of the sport. I was Googling stuff last night. Did you know that women’s gymnastics is relatively new? I saw this video of the first women’s gymnastics competition in the Olympics in the 1952 Games, and it was just, like, women twirling batons with pompoms on them.”
“I know. I think that would be fun. Look up Larisa Latynina. She was the pioneer of women’s gymnastics as we know it, and she was dominant. She was the most decorated Olympian of all time until Michael Phelps broke her medal record. Then look up Věra Čáslavská. And Ludmilla Tourischeva, another Russian gymnast. She’s legendary in part because she did a routine once that was so powerful that after her dismount, the bars collapsed behind her, and she didn’t even blink. The clip is online. It’s amazing.”
Topher laughed. “You should write all these names down for me.”
Natalie pulled out her phone and started writing a text, probably sending him the names of all these gymnasts. She talked as she typed. “Even Nadia Comaneci won her perfect tens with skills we don’t even do anymore. The sport is so different. In the old days, it was a lot of prancing around and looking pretty. Now you need real strength to win championships. Chelsea may look tiny, but she’s built like a tank. Hell, Chelsea’s doing men’s skills on some of the apparatuses.”
“Really?”
“When you got here, we were bemoaning the fact that there are a handful of moves called the Mirakovitch on different apparatuses. I think two are named for Valentin and one is for Jake. Chelsea wants a move named after her too, but how many Mirakovitch moves can there be?”
Topher couldn’t even fathom what living with these people would be like. “I’m starting to think that whole family is insane.”
Natalie shrugged. “I think the trick today will be for Jake to compete against everyone else and not himself. And if he’s at the top of his game, his main competition is Hosuke from Japan, one of the few men in the whole competition who is legit good at every apparatus. But Hosuke had knee reconstruction surgery at the end of last season and may not be one hundred percent.”
“Oh. Okay, I’ll look for him. But what about—?” Topher’s phone chirped in his pocket. “Hang on.”
He pulled out the phone and saw a text from Jake: Go to the men’s room just outside the press area.
Well, Jesus. “Be right back,” he told Natalie. “Gotta take a call.”
How did Jake even know Topher was here? Topher’s heart pounded as he slipped out of the press room and walked to the men’s room down the hall.
Nearly as soon as he entered the room, Jake pushed him against the door and flipped the lock. Then he kissed the bejesus out of Topher.
“Um. Hi,” Topher managed to get out when they came up for air.
“Hello.”
“Other men may need to use bathrooms, you know.”
“I know, but this was the best I could do.” Jake panted. The look in his eyes was hungry. “Chelsea texted me that you were here, so I snuck out of practice. I have to be back in, like, thirty seconds, but… I have not been able to stop thinking about you since last night.”
Topher felt dizzy, not believing what was happening. “Uh, Jake? It’s not that I don’t want to see you—because I definitely do, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either—but you have to be on the floor in an hour. And you’re competing for an Olympic medal. What in the name of Michelle Kwan are you doing here?”
Jake took a step back. “So, okay, you know how everyone’s always like, ‘No distractions during competition. You must focus on your sport.’ Well, it occurred to me that a little distraction might be good for me. I tend to get in my own head during competition, and that’s when I fuck up. But if I have something else to focus on, that might keep me from overthinking things. And….”
Jake kissed Topher again, and Topher was grateful that his body responded quickly, because he was having trouble getting his heart and mind to catch up.
“You are a welcome distraction,” Jake concluded.
“Um, okay.”
“I had to see you. Are you here to cover the all-around?”
“No, I have a ticket to watch so I can make dumb videos for the TBC social media accounts. This is all a very, very lucky coincidence that I happened to be in the press area at a moment when you could get away. Very lucky.”
Topher finally gave in and kissed Jake, pulling him into his arms and running his hands over the smooth skin of Jake’s back, down to his ass. He felt Jake grow hard against him; Jake’s warm-up pants were not enough of a barrier to leave anything to the imagination. Topher could probably rip those pants right off and have Jake right here. No one would miss Topher… but someone might miss Jake.
“We can’t do this here,” Topher whispered.
“I know, but….” Then Jake kissed Topher again.
Topher pulled away. “No, really. If we keep going, I won’t want to stop, and things could get messy. We’ll have to answer questions neither of us is ready to answer.”
Jake sighed and stepped away. He took a deep breath. �
�You’re right.”
“To be clear, if you didn’t have to compete in”—Topher looked at his watch—“fifty-three minutes, I’d keep this going, but you have to get ready. I will not be the reason you don’t take full advantage of this opportunity. And you promised to win a medal for me, you may recall.”
Jake looked at the floor for a moment, his chest rising and falling with his slowing breaths. “You won’t be the reason I don’t win. There’s nothing I want more than this medal. I just… I couldn’t miss the opportunity to speak to you for a few moments either.”
Topher leaned against the door and looked Jake up and down. His sandy brown hair was disheveled, not gelled into place yet. He wore a white T-shirt that seemed glued to his body; it said Miracle Gymnastics Houston across the front. His black warm-up pants were slung low on his hips. Jake’s body was… something else. He might have been short, but his body was powerful, and he still managed to have long arms and graceful fingers. Topher could easily picture those fingers wrapped around his….
“Tell you what,” Topher said after clearing his throat. “You owe me an interview.”
“That was a pretense so we could see each other again. Just so you know.”
Topher grinned. “I do know. Forget the interview for now. Here’s all I want from you.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “You better say good loving.”
“Sweetheart. We barely know each other and already we’re like this.” Topher gestured between his temple and Jake’s. “But no, actually. Look, I had my opportunity to win gold and I blew it. I was never a great quad jumper, but I landed them in practice well enough that I could put at least one in every program and then make up the points with my artistic score. But then all these skaters came up behind me who could get those artistic points and land four quad jumps in a program. And they’d made it look easy. It’s like gymnastics, I guess. Each year, new skaters try new tricks that no one has ever landed in competition before.”
“Sounds right.”
“I fell in my long program. Shit like that happens. It’s sports. Nothing is a given. There are athletes warming up for today who have been doing skills you’ve never even thought about, skills no one has ever done in competition before.”
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