6
Ava
I remained calm all the way until the third floor, but once I was in my room I felt my knees shaking and stomach rolling. I rattled the chain lock into place before throwing myself on the bed with a groan. My lips felt chapped from the rough kiss. It was an amazing, earth-shattering, forget my name kind of kiss.
Everything about it was like the first time. The heat. The fire. The passion.
He could be with me right now. Taking his time to undress me. Rubbing his strong hands across my body. Whispering all the things he wanted to do to me. But I rejected him in the lobby before things were any more out of control.
I closed my eyes. This was an impossible situation.
I knew before I touched down Blaine would be in Rio. The entire world knew he would be here. But I never thought our paths would cross. With ten thousand athletes in the city we never should have run into each other. The odds were in my favor I would never set eyes on that sex machine again.
I wasn’t covering swimming and I knew better than to go near the aquatics center. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could coast through the games without hearing his name every other second.
The Americans hated how Blaine had stolen the spotlight from their team, but it didn’t stop us from covering him on every sports show and news magazine. The world had fallen in love with his good looks and charming grin.
The fact that he had broken every world record and was on course to break his own during the games made the interest in him more intense.
And I was sitting on the biggest story. Blaine Crews needed to swim. And there was nowhere for him to go. No pool. No lap lane. No place for the world’s greatest swimmer.
Someone was going to write it. Why not me?
I sat forward. I knew exactly why. Because thinking about Blaine would only take me back to that night in Sydney.
I had fought it with every cell in my body. The pull to him. The draw that only a man like that had.
After Sydney I refused to contact him. I wasn’t going to be one of his groupies. I knew those types of women. I’d covered enough events as a sports reporter to see the look in their eyes. It was the fame. The conquest of crawling under the sheets with a famous athlete was enough to keep them coming back for another inning, quarter, or half. Their clothes got shorter and their necklines deeper. That wasn’t me.
I never cared about their million-dollar contracts or the endorsements that threw them into the spotlight. I loved the purity of sports—the way they brought people together. How games made people forget their problems. How in a single moment when there was a score on the board people could hug and cheer and unite in something other than anger and hatred. How friendships were born out of the love of the same team. Or how rivalries sprouted up and lasted for years. I loved all those things about sports—not the wealth and the wastefulness. Not the hype over insta-fame.
My father always said I had an eye for talent. I could spot the real deal before the recruiters. But I wasn’t into building teams, or working for sports clubs. I loved writing and reporting. It was as much a part of me as the games.
I stayed out of the way of the players. I didn’t date athletes. I had a policy to not even use their first names. It kept things on a professional level.
I swore I’d never sleep with an athlete. That was until the night I met Blaine.
***
Five weeks ago
National Swimming Trials: Sydney, Australia
I didn’t know I had this many tears in me. I stared at the mirror in the bar bathroom. There was more mascara on my face than remained on my eyelashes. I ran a scratchy paper towel under the faucet and dabbed at the stains on my cheeks. The harder I rubbed, the worse I looked.
Damn it. Who got fired on assignment?
The call came as soon as my drink was delivered. There had to be some kind of irony in that. A victory drink with a side of unemployment. I blotted my face again.
I had only been with Sports Now for six months. Six short, glorious months.
Newspapers were no longer hiring, and online sports outlets were overrun with bloggers and fans flooding the scoring reports. Sports Now was the most relevant sports channel in the country. It was a dream to work there. A dream that blew up in my face on my second day at the swim trials.
They sent me to Australia to cover the Olympic qualifying meets. I was willing to take any beat they gave me as long as I had a job. I didn’t know anything about swimming, but I was ready to study up. If it meant an all-expenses paid trip to the land down under, then it was even better. I couldn’t believe I had this job.
I’d worked my way up through local news. I freelanced with as many national magazines as I could. I put in my time, and finally it came together with this job. The perfect, life-changing job.
I tucked my press badge inside my purse as I crossed the street after the swim finals completed. Two nights in and I felt confident I could deliver the last night of coverage. Most of my broadcasts were for our online audience, but I knew Sports Now was committed to growing that fan base.
I thought about asking my editor, Phil, for a few mainstream events once we made it past the Olympic games next month. I wanted to be in Rio with the crew, but I was also looking ahead to the fall and football. It was my favorite sport. I’d take college or the professional level if it got me on the sidelines.
I had found a pub, or as the locals called it, a boozer, near the swim center, and had just logged on to the wireless to work on my edits for tomorrow’s live shot. By the time my screen blinked to life, I had a beer in my hand and my phone began to ring.
“Hello?”
“Ava, it’s Phil, and Amy’s on the line too.”
“Amy?” I couldn’t form the words fast enough. Amy was in human resources. Something was wrong.
“Hi, Ava.” She sounded sweet on the phone.
“Hi.” I pushed the beer away from me. I had a funny feeling about this phone call. I tried to block out the noise from the raucous crowd in the bar.
The city was buzzing with the excitement from the swim trials. It felt as if the entire world of sports was here to watch history unfold. It was almost electric how intense the energy was around the arena.
It wasn’t my country. And I didn’t know the swimmers like the athletes back home, but I couldn’t help but cheer for Blaine Crews. There was something about the journey he was on as an athlete that pulled everyone in.
Phil cleared his voice. “Look, there’s something we need to talk to you about.”
I knew the time change was a mind fuck but I hadn’t missed any deadlines since I had been here. I did a quick calculation in my head to try to figure out the time in Atlanta. It was close to 8am there.
Everything had been on schedule. I was going to check online to see what kind of hits my last broadcast received. I should have had that information before I took the call.
“What’s going on?” I was cautious.
“Since you left for Sydney, there’s been some restructuring with the company.” Phil paused. I could picture him loosening up the collar on his blue shirt. He always wore blue. “And because of that, we’re going to have to let some of our stringers go.”
“What kind of restructuring?” I was stuck on the wrong part of the explanation.
Amy took over from that point. “Ava, I know this is going to come as a shock, but Sports Now has decided to downsize and focus on the online imprint it has. We can still hold our television market and cut our remote reports. It’s what’s in the best interest of the company.”
“Okay.”
I still hadn’t figured out why they were calling me with a fourteen-hour time change between us to explain something corporate had decided. I had just delivered a kick-ass report on the swim trials to that exact online audience. Then I realized what this was. It was a promotion. Phil wanted more of what I could do for the online viewers. I squealed on the inside, trying to calm my nerves.
“Ava, yo
u are no longer a part of Sports Now.”
I nearly dropped my cell on the varnished table. “What?”
“It’s not personal. You have done an outstanding job while you were with us, but we can’t keep everyone. Human resources decided the fairest approach was to relieve those who were newest to the company.”
I nodded slowly. “I see.”
“I’m going to hop off the line, but Amy will guide you through the exit interview.”
“But I’m in Sydney,” I blurted out. “I’m covering the trials for you.” It was a desperate argument to keep the last shred of a connection to the station.
I didn’t want to lose my job. My dream.
“I think we’ve got that covered now that Crews has set the record.”
“But he’s swimming again tomorrow night!” I didn’t care if everyone in the bar heard me. I had one more assignment in Sydney. Phil couldn’t dismiss me like an intern. I’d paid my dues to get here.
“Thanks for all of your hard work, Ava. Don’t hesitate to ask for a recommendation letter. Best of luck to you. I’ll let Amy handle the rest from here.” There was a garbled exchange on the line and then Amy launched into a rehearsed speech.
I sat in silence while she explained the paperwork I needed to fill out in order to receive a small severance package from the company. My return flight to Atlanta was guaranteed, but for the rest of the trip, if I chose to stay, I was on my own. Sports Now had essentially cut me off and I was on the other side of the world, alone in the southern hemisphere.
When I hung up, I stared into the pint of beer. I grabbed it as the beer sloshed over the side and guzzled until the glass was empty.
I could feel the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I ran to the bathroom before they spilled onto the table’s shiny surface.
I felt hollow and lost. As if everything had been taken from me at once. I didn’t know if I could breathe or even find my way out of the ladies’ room. I splashed another handful of water on my face.
Everything seemed absurd. The thought that I could somehow hold on to a dream job like reporting for Sports Now. The idea that they sent me to Australia because they had big plans for me. All the pictures I had posted on my social media accounts this week of my trip. Shit.
My palm hit the top of my forehead. I didn’t want to think about the embarrassment and humiliation that would come with this job loss.
What in the hell was I going to do? Crawl back to Atlanta unemployed and broke?
I whipped open the door, ready to at least get out of here and head back to the hotel.
That was when I saw him.
That was when Blaine Crews plowed me over in the hallway, knocking me to the floor as his hands scooped around my waist, drawing me to his solid chest.
I looked into dark green eyes.
“You’re…” Words failed me. Everything failed me.
He grinned and the rest of the world fell away.
7
Blaine
I kept my head down on the way back to the village, throwing my hoodie up even though it was scorching hot. The advantage of being inside the Olympic city was the privacy it gave all the athletes. No press. No fans. It was the one place we could all be ourselves. Out here I couldn’t hide. I knew I was one of the most recognizable faces of the games.
In the village, I didn’t have to worry about that bullshit. The other athletes weren’t star-struck. To them, I was just another bloke competing like them.
Some of the athletes were in the zone. They barely spoke to anyone, fearful it would interfere with their concentration before their event.
Then there were the so-called competitors who came to the Olympics to party. I don’t mean any kind of party. I’m talking about the kind you see in American movies, where epic fraternity bashes last for days.
Four years ago, I tried to claim my place on the podium in London. I did what was necessary to cut my time. I fucked when I needed to let off steam. I left the partying to the Germans or the Dutch. Those guys knew how to do it right.
That was one of the things about the village. There were women everywhere. Women who looked like supermodels and had the bodies of athletic goddesses. There were bowls of condoms in the lobbies and in the gym. I heard a report that Rio set a record for ordering the most condoms of any Olympics.
Everyone knew what happened in the village. It was accepted and most of us expected it. It didn’t matter if it was to celebrate a gold medal, or to forget a fourth place finish. There was no judgement.
But as I walked the few blocks toward the high rises, I knew I didn’t want to go back and fuck a soccer star or volleyball player. The only woman I wanted in Rio was Ava.
That kiss was still on my lips. I could feel her tight little ass in my palms. Hear the whimper she made in my ear. Shit. I wanted another taste. And I wanted her.
I knew I had fucked up in Sydney. And now it was costing me.
I waited in line at the security gate to enter the village.
The guard waved me through without making me pass the regular X-ray machine checkpoint. I nodded.
I wiped the sweat from the back of my neck. I glanced across the greenway. There was a volleyball being splashed around in one of the lounging pools. The place looked like something out of a travel brochure. There were palm trees and bright flowers. It didn’t look like the kind of place where the top athletes competed. It looked like a damn singles resort where people met to fuck.
“Blaine! Blaine, come on over. The water’s warm.” The French volleyball players waved and giggled.
“No, thanks,” I hollered. “Getting out of the sun.”
“Aww,” they pouted in unison.
I thought about diving in. I could swim to the other end and have my pick of the team. In less than an hour, one of those girls would be on her back in my bed, but I wasn’t interested. Maybe in London, but not now. I ducked inside and headed toward the elevator, pushing the button for the tenth floor.
I walked in my room, looking for a distraction from the feeling.
I felt caged. I felt trapped. The room was standard. I didn’t receive preferential treatment. I even had a damn roommate from the Australian team. He was out.
I sat on the edge of my bed. Jim was hanging out with the other coaches. I was ready to crawl out of my skin, but it wasn’t from swimming. It was Ava. I pushed off the bed. Like hell I was going to sit here while she was a few blocks away.
I grabbed my keys and slammed the door behind me.
***
5 weeks ago
“Hi there, love.”
“You’re-you—” She spoke in between gasps.
The girl had practically fallen into my arms. I held her tightly against my body, enjoying the feel of her curves. Her long hair fell over her chest, hiding her breasts from my view.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” I wasn’t ready to let her go. She had gorgeous eyes. They sparkled with bits of blue like water.
I set her feet on the floor, giving her a second to regain her balance.
“Blaine Crews.” She straightened her skirt. “What are you doing in a pub?” She shook her head.
“Same as you. Boozing.” I grinned at her wickedly.
“I just saw you swim. Congratulations. It was incredible. Amazing, really.”
“Thanks.” I don’t know why I did it, but I leaned against the wall, planting my hand over her shoulder. She backed up and her blue eyes widened.
“I take it you’re a swim fan?” I asked. I always enjoyed talking swim.
“I’m covering it. Covering you. I mean, the sport. I’m here covering the trials.” She dropped her eyes to the floor. “Shit,” she whispered.
I felt a sudden jolt of disappointment. She wasn’t a fan. She was a reporter. I didn’t like to talk to the press. I thought about making an exception for this pretty girl, though.
“Ahh, one of the American reporters.” Those blokes were as bad as mozzies hanging around the place, but she seemed harm
less.
“Actually, not anymore.”
I cocked my head to the side. “What do you mean by that, love?”
“You don’t want to hear my stupid sad story. I’m sorry. You’re probably celebrating with friends. This is a huge night for you. I’ll let you get back to your group.”
I looked over my shoulder. “No one there. I’m all ears.”
“You’re here alone?” I could tell she didn’t believe me.
“All alone.” I leaned in closer. It wasn’t entirely true. I rarely went anywhere when I wasn’t swarmed by fans.
I never had to pay for another drink for the rest of my life if I didn’t want to.
She wiped at her cheeks and that was when I noticed they glistened. She had been crying when I bumped into her. Shit.
“I’m at a disadvantage. You know who I am. I think it’s only fair you tell me your name.”
“Ava. Ava Gold.”
“Are you here with someone, Ava Gold?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. I traveled by myself for work.”
I felt good. The kind of good after a victory. It wasn’t a small victory. I had just set a world record in the 200-meter freestyle and butterfly. It was an incredible rush. My body surged with powerful adrenaline. I felt like a fucking rock star. And I needed an outlet for all the energy coursing through me.
Over my shoulder was a crowd of rowdy fans who wanted to celebrate with me. But in front of me was a stranger. A beautiful, sexy woman with tears in her eyes and all alone in my country.
“If we keep walking through that door, it’ll take us out the back and no one will know we left.” I smiled, brushing an auburn curl from her forehead.
“And?”
“And I think we both know where things could go from there.”
“You’re serious?”
“Love, I just set the fucking world record in two different strokes. I couldn’t be more serious.”
“Well, I just lost my job. So I don’t know that this is the best time to… to start something.” She had a funny way with her expressions. I liked it. I liked how the words sounded on her tongue.
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