LATER, THEY lay panting in each other’s arms.
“Amazing,” Topher said. “Even better than last time, but with less mystery.”
Jake tightened his arm around Topher. “There’s plenty of mystery. We’re just starting to get to know each other.”
Topher shot Jake a crooked smile. “Aw. We’ve gotten to know each other quite well, I’d say. You’re toppy and athletic and are in the middle of what I have to assume is one of the most incredible weeks of your life, bum ankle notwithstanding.”
“Sure, but I don’t know a lot of things about you. How do you like your coffee? What kinds of books do you like to read? What’s your favorite TV show?”
Topher looked up toward the ceiling as if he was thinking about Jake’s questions. “Well. Light and sweet. Old romance novels. RuPaul’s Drag Race. I’m such a superfan of that last one I got to be a guest judge last season.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah, I had to film a segment in which I taught the queens how to walk more gracefully. Also, I blended right in there, as you can probably imagine. What about you? Coffee? Books? TV?”
“Just milk. Literary thrillers. And I like trashy reality TV.”
“Really?”
“I love the Kardashians. Don’t tell anyone.”
Topher laughed. He put his arms more firmly around Jake’s shoulders and kissed his forehead. “I won’t. This delights me.”
“I don’t watch a lot of TV, and when I do, I’m so tired that I just want something fun and unchallenging.”
“I met Kim at Fashion Week last year. She knew who I was, and I almost died right there.”
Jake felt himself drifting off to sleep. He pressed his ear against Topher’s chest and listened to the thump of his heart for a moment.
“We haven’t talked about it, but you really did something amazing yesterday,” Topher said. “You’ve got a lot more hardware.”
Jake held Topher close. “So people keep telling me. I still don’t entirely believe it.”
Topher rolled over to look at Jake. “You’re leaving the Olympics with a wrecked ankle. How does that feel?”
Jake grinned. “I have no regrets.”
Topher laughed. “I left my last Olympics with a huge bruise on my hip from where I hit the ice when I missed that quad jump, thus not winning a medal. I had a lot of regrets.” He ran a hand down Jake’s torso, taking stock of the muscles there. “So how do you feel about… everything? The competition and whatnot.”
“It hasn’t sunk in yet,” Jake said, “that I actually pulled it off, I mean. I can’t wrap my head around it. I spent most of my party last night thinking that I didn’t need my foot in order to have sex with you.”
Topher leaned over and kissed Jake’s nose. “That’s the spirit.”
“I mean, I should have celebrated more maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that I was standing in the locker room before the high bar final and I’d had it. I knew if I didn’t do everything in my power to get that medal, I’d regret it, and I wouldn’t let anyone stop me. I’ve probably damaged my foot and ankle permanently, but I don’t even care, because I did it. So that’s where I am mentally right now.”
Topher admired that. He kissed Jake’s forehead. “You’re pretty awesome, you know that.”
Jake smiled. “You’re great too. You… you live the way you want to now. You express yourself unapologetically. I really admire that.”
“Thanks, but this is your moment.” Topher appreciated how Jake saw him, that he didn’t expect Topher to be anything but who he was. But he also wanted Jake to feel his victory.
Topher was touched that Jake had decided to sneak over here so they could be together. He lay back down beside Jake, and Jake grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Topher took in the whole picture of them together, their bodies stripped naked save for the wrap on Jake’s foot, a reminder that he’d sacrificed something for his medal the day before. Topher admired Jake, admired the strength it took to stumble like he did but still get up and win a medal.
He cared about Jake too. He cared that Jake hurt, that Jake had excelled, that Jake was here and sexually satisfied. He cared about how Jake felt, about what he thought. He cared about Jake, period.
It was an odd thing to realize in the context of their recent sexual encounter. Topher had compartmentalized their encounters in the “hot sex” box, but there was clearly more here than that. He and Jake understood each other, had many similar experiences in their histories, cared about each other.
This would be hard to walk away from.
He rolled over onto Jake, and Jake immediately put his arms around Topher. Jake sighed happily.
“How’s the leg?” Topher asked.
“What leg?”
Topher laughed. “No, seriously. How do you feel?”
“I feel great. A good orgasm is just what the doctor ordered. I think if I had a few more, I’d be all healed in no time.”
“That’s the painkillers talking, big guy.”
“Mmm. I could fall asleep here. Should I?”
“I won’t kick you out. But you’re right, someone will probably notice if you do.”
Jake sighed. “The crutches complicate everything. I can’t just walk out of here when I want to. I can still say I was here to see my parents if I get out by midnight. I think it’ll look fishy if I stay later than that, not that anyone would likely ask.”
“Well, you never know. You are the most famous gymnast in the world right now.”
“What time is it?”
“Uh… twenty-two-something. That’s, what, after ten?”
“Yeah. Good. Time to squeeze in another orgasm. Or three.”
“Three?”
“I won a gold medal with a sprained ankle yesterday. Anything is possible.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Day 9
THE ARTISTIC gymnastics competition had ended; the Palacio Vistalegre was being turned over for rhythmic gymnastics, Chelsea recorded another interview for TBC, and most of the team and coaching staff was packing up to fly home within the next twenty-four hours.
Jake’s flight home wasn’t for another eight days; he’d wanted to stick around for the Closing Ceremony and soak up as much Olympic spirit as he could, given that this was likely his last one. He had tickets to a few events, and he hoped to squeeze in some sightseeing. And he definitely hoped to spend more time in bed with Topher. In fact, he had big plans to move to Topher’s hotel just as soon as his parents were out of his hair.
But first he had to survive a team meeting in a conference room somewhere in the bowels of the Palacio, where Viktor and Valentin gave what seemed like a grim postmortem considering the USA Gymnastics team had brought home more medals than they ever had before.
Then again, in all of Jake’s twenty-six years of life, he’d rarely seen Valentin smile.
With very little emotion, Viktor wrapped up the meeting by saying, “We are proud of both teams. You did good. Take a few weeks to celebrate. Practice resumes in September.”
Some pep talk.
When that nightmare at last ended, Valentin walked over to Jake and said, “Your mother and I will be on plane tonight.”
Jake nodded. USA Gymnastics had chartered a flight home that was open to whoever wanted to take it. Jake had chosen to spend his well-earned endorsement money on a flight without everyone else on it. “Is Chelsea going with you, or did she decide to stay?”
“Don’t know. Chelsea!”
Chelsea had been flirting with young Paul. She patted his shoulder before trotting over to talk to Valentin. Paul’s face turned the brightest crimson, and he sheepishly ducked out of the room.
“You come home with us?” Valentin asked.
“I’m staying for Closing Ceremony,” Chelsea said, her tone all, “get with the program, Dad.” “I told you that, like, six times. I’m in the running to be the flag bearer.”
“Where you stay?”
“Olympic Villag
e.” Then she glanced at Jake. She probably knew Jake was planning to move to the hotel, but she also probably sensed that Jake didn’t want this to be public knowledge, so she stopped talking.
“Good. Any other girls stay?”
“Jessica, Ashley, and Danielle. I won’t be alone, Dad.”
“I worry, is all.”
“I’m also nineteen. So technically, I’m an adult.”
Valentin turned to Jake. “You keep eyes on her, da?”
“Of course.”
Valentin didn’t seem terribly satisfied with that, but instead he said, “Have lunch with me and Mama today before we get on plane.” It wasn’t a request.
They ironed out plans and Valentin departed. Jake lingered, steeling himself for going outside on his crutches, so he and Chelsea ended up leaving together. It took longer to move out of the building than it would have if he’d had the use of both feet, but Chelsea slowed to his pace and walked beside him.
“You are moving to a hotel, aren’t you?” Chelsea said as they walked toward the exit.
“That was the plan, yes.” He told her which one.
She nodded. “Are you staying with your new boyfriend?”
“He’s not—no. I’ve got my own room. Which you can’t share with me.”
“Ugh, no. I’d rather fall off the balance beam. The girls and I were talking about calling around to hotels to see if they have any vacancies and then all sharing a room. I don’t want to spend the next week in the athlete dorms. It’s so loud and crazy there. I’ve got track athletes on either side of me, and they’ve been doing sprints in the hallway outside my door. I almost got trampled when I left this morning. No, thank you.”
“I guess that will make it easier to follow Dad’s orders to keep an eye on you.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “I’m an adult.”
“Barely.”
Chelsea pushed open the door on the way out of the athlete entrance and held it open for Jake. They were almost to the designated spot where the shuttlebus would pick them up when all of a sudden, what seemed like a hundred flashes went off in front of him.
“Jake! Chelsea! How does it feel to be gold medalists?”
Fortunately a bus pulled up right then. Jake said nothing, but Chelsea waved before pushing through the crowd to reach the bus.
“This is my life now, isn’t it?” Chelsea said.
“This is both our lives. What have we done?”
“Well, I didn’t tear any ligaments before triumphantly winning a gold medal at my last event, so my story’s not as good as yours, but I did medal in every event final.”
Jake decided not to hear the note of bitterness in her voice. They could share the spotlight. Or she could have all of it, because Jake had no desire to talk to the press. He propelled himself over to the bus and Chelsea helped him board.
An hour later Jake and Chelsea were on their way out of the Athlete Village to get a cab to the restaurant Valentin had chosen for lunch when, once again, a slew of cameras showed up to take their picture. They made Jake tremendously uneasy, but he reasoned this was one more reason to move to the hotel. There were so many people that there wasn’t room for the cab to pull up to the curb, and a security guard yelled at everyone to get out of the road… in three languages.
The Olympics sure were an experience.
They seemed to have shaken off their tail by the time they got to the restaurant. Lunch mostly involved Lana Mirakovitch gushing over how well her children had performed in the Games and Valentin admonishing them to behave during the rest of their time in Madrid. It felt so routine and normal—although the food was spectacular and Jake ate until he thought he might burst, despite Valentin saying “You want to eat that?” three or four times in a tone that said, “You want to be fat?”—that Jake had almost forgotten he and Chelsea were celebrities.
As soon as they exited the restaurant, the cameras were back. And now there were reporters. Dozens of flashes exploded in Jake’s face. He’d posed for plenty of photos in the lead-up to the Olympics, but he didn’t like being ambushed like this.
Valentin had clearly been planning some kind of grand goodbye even though they’d all see each other again in a matter of days, but all the reporters and paparazzi outside the restaurant waylaid those plans. “Come to hotel,” Lana said as she pushed through the mob to hail a cab.
So they all piled into the cab and took it to the hotel, which was, of course, full of media company staff from various countries.
No one really bothered them as they cut through the lobby to the elevators, at least. Maybe there were rules about talking to athletes or staff inside the hotel.
But this was really bad. If that many reporters were following Jake and Chelsea around, they were bound to catch Jake in a compromising position. It didn’t dampen his desire for Topher at all, and he still intended to move into the hotel, but it was giving him second thoughts. What would happen if some paparazzo caught Jake and Topher together? What would happen if Jake got outed publicly?
Jake had no answers to these questions.
But God, last night had been amazing. It would have been a crime not to sleep with Topher again. As much as possible.
He mulled that over as he settled into a chair in the corner of his parents’ room and propped his foot up on an ottoman. This room was much bigger than Topher’s, so there was room for Chelsea to sit too, as she rattled off the list of events she wanted to see that week. Jake sat while they all made small talk, tuning them out and getting lost in his own thoughts.
“I’m worried about the press,” Jake said as he watched his parents pack the rest of their things.
“I said to be careful,” said Valentin.
“That’s… not even a little helpful, Dad.”
“Why you worry?” Lana asked.
Jake switched to Russian because he figured it would make everything easier. Both of his parents understood English perfectly fine but were generally more comfortable conversing in Russian. They’d even encouraged their children to speak English as often as possible when they’d been young. But a perk of being bilingual was that as adults, Jake and Chelsea could switch back and forth with relative ease. Now Jake said, “If the press is following me around, they might find out things we don’t want them to know.”
Both of Jake’s parents stopped what they were doing and stared at him. “Such as?” asked Valentin in Russian.
“What happens if they find out I’m gay?”
“We will manage,” said Valentin.
“It’s fine, Jakob,” said Lana. “We love you no matter what. And your friends do too.”
Jake smiled at that. “I know. Thank you. I love you too, Mom.”
“The media could still cook up a scandal,” Chelsea said, carrying on the conversation in Russian, “or catch Jake with the guy he’s been making eyes at in Madrid.”
“Thanks, sis,” Jake said in English.
“I told you to stay away from him,” said Valentin.
“It’s not how Chelsea is making it sound,” said Jake, returning to Russian.
“There’s no reason for your private life to be public,” said Valentin.
“I agree with you. I don’t want anything private to be public. But you saw those reporters.”
“Are you dating someone, Jakob?” Lana asked. “That boy you told me about?”
“Not… really. It doesn’t matter. We were just… having a little fun before going back home. He lives in New York. There’s no future in it.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” said Valentin.
“I wouldn’t.” Jake let out a breath. “I don’t want the press to find out about my private life, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have one, does it? I have a week off in Madrid. I don’t want to spend all of it hiding.”
Valentin went back to folding up his T-shirts. “Be careful,” he repeated.
Jake rolled his eyes. Topher wasn’t in the hotel, which Jake was able to ascertain with a few covert text mes
sages. He was busy at the broadcast center. He probably would be most days, so Jake could go see some diving or track events and no one would be any the wiser. But still, the hotel was crawling with press. With American media, more to the point. All it would take was for that gossipy reporter from Hollywood Tonight to catch them and everything would be out there.
Jake adjusted his weight in the chair, grunting as he moved his ankle. His pain meds were wearing off, and it throbbed uncomfortably. As he shifted, all three sets of eyes in the room looked his way. Valentin wore a concerned expression as he looked over at Jake’s foot.
In Russian, Valentin said, “I know you’re thinking about retiring. We talked some at lunch yesterday but didn’t decide anything.”
“Do I have to decide anything right now?”
“No. But I’ve been thinking about it.”
“What do you think I should do?”
There was a long pause. Then Valentin said, “In 1989, I broke my wrist falling from high bar. The X-rays showed I had a hairline fracture in my radius too, that had probably been there for a long time. And the arthritis in my knees was starting. And I realized that my body was falling apart. I think… I think maybe you know something about that.”
Jake looked at his foot. “I do know something about that.”
“The ligament will heal, but the next injury may not. I worry about you hurting yourself permanently.”
Well. Jake’s heart swelled a little; Valentin did care after all. He knew deep down that Valentin cared about him, loved him even, but he was so used to working for that love that these rare moments of affection still felt odd.
“It’s not easy being your son,” Jake said quietly.
“I know.”
“I wanted to be what you wanted me to be.”
“I know. But I know what it’s like to be a gymnast with the weight of expectation on my shoulders, and I know I don’t make things easy. But you are the greatest gymnast in the world, and you are also my son, and I want you to be safe more than I want you to win another medal. We can talk about another season when you get home, but if you want to announce your retirement, I will accept it.”
Stick the Landing Page 22