Page 43 of Let the Games Begin
“Without a doubt,” said Valentina, “but I might not. So, if this is it, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than in this gross, smelly alleyway with the two of you. This feels like the pinnacle. Everything else is just an abundance of—” Valentina was a Texan girl from a Mexican Catholic family, and so she was always ready to give a speech about gratitude. But before she could finish her sentence, two men with big cameras rounded the corner and started running toward them.
“We have to go, right now!” Zeke pushed his friends ahead of him, running until they reached a quiet residential street. When they could no longer see or hear the paparazzi, it dawned on Zeke that they were in a foreign city and none of them knew how to get home.
Haruki was in the middle of trying to convince them to knock on a random door and pray that the people on the other side weren’t psychotic serial killers, when Zeke had an idea.
“I think I know someone who can help,” he said.
He knew exactly one person who was living in Athens city center, and, even though his phone was about to die, it was worth a shot. He realized it would mean explaining things to Haruki sooner than he’d planned to, but at that point there was no other choice. So he opened his phone and clicked the call button. It felt like each ring took longer to come around than the last, but just when he was about to give up hope, the person on the other end of the call picked up.
“I know I should’ve called you sooner, trust me. And I know it’s the middle of the night and you’re off the clock. But for the third and final time,I promise, can I ask you a favor?”
Ten minutes later, he heard the sound of someone humming Dolly Parton’s “Nine to Five” and saw the silhouette of a woman carrying two bags of what smelled like souvlaki. She walked toward them and took off her headphones. Olivia was wearing a yellow sundress with her braids down. There was a glint of curiosity in her eyes.
“I already know what you’re going to say,” said Zeke. He held his arms up in surrender.
“You’ve made up some pretty bad excuses to see me, butHelp I’m being chased by the paparazzi and have no way to go hometakes it to a whole new level, Zeke.”
“You’re right, I was just looking for an excuse to call you.”
For a moment Zeke felt like they were the only people on that street, the only people in the whole world. But then he remembered they weren’t alone.
“Hi, I’m Valentina,” his friend said, putting her hand out.
“Hey! I’m Olivia. Congratulations on your big win! Me andmy housemate watched it and you were incredible,” said Olivia, smiling excitedly as they shook hands.
“Olivia? Hey!” said Haruki with a grin. He looked at Olivia and then at Zeke, confusion slowly starting to drift across his face. Guilt began to creep up Zeke’s body.
“Haruki!” said Olivia, turning to him. She said his name with a casual cheerfulness that Zeke had never witnessed before. In fact, now that he thought about it, she was looking up at Haruki like he was the literal sun.
“I didn’t think I was going to see you untilBend It Like Beckham,” she said. Zeke looked back and forth between them. They seemed to have such an easy familiarity. Zeke was in distress. He wasn’t usually the jealous type but there he was, head spinning at the suddenly very real possibility that Olivia might like Haruki back. The shock must have been evident on his face because Valentina was looking at him strangely. She raised an eyebrow.
“Wait, where was my invite?” Valentina said, joking as the three of them began a conversation of their own. Zeke looked on, but he wasn’t focused on the interaction itself; he was focused on Olivia, on how different she was with Haruki and Valentina.
Then the realization hit him. Olivia had the same expression on her face as the people who stopped him in the street to take a picture. Olivia wasn’t madly in love with Haruki—at least, he hoped she wasn’t. And she wasn’t just putting on a whole new persona for Valentina—Olivia was afan. He realized that she was completely starstruck, nervously asking questions and nodding attentively at everything they said.
“Why do I get the sense that you’re nice to everyone except for me?” asked Zeke.
“Because nobody else insults my driving or finds new reasons to bother me at my place of work every day,” said Olivia, teasing him without missing a beat.
“I didn’t realize you knew each other?” said Haruki, looking back and forth, trying to connect the dots.
“Unfortunately,” said Olivia, the look she gave Zeke betraying her. He wanted to smile back, but then he caught Haruki’s eye. This was about to get complicated.
“Okay, well, I really hate to interrupt whateverthisis, because, honestly, I’m fascinated,” said Valentina, “but we really need to get out of here.” She nodded over at a small crowd that had followed them out of the club. They seemed harmless, but they had their phones out and Zeke could see that at least one of them had a professional camera. The paparazzi always descended on a city as soon as the Olympics came to town. And a good photo of Zeke and Valentina, while the internet was still speculating about their relationship status, could go viral in minutes. But Zeke and Haruki really couldn’t afford to get photographed partying less than a week before their finals. Again.
Olivia looked at the three of them and then over at the man with the camera.
“I live a ten-minute walk away, you can come up if you need somewhere to hide out?” she said.
“Are you just offering so you can have something to hold over me?” Zeke said, quietly enough that only she could hear him.
“I don’t need something to hold over you.” She paused. “I know you’ll keep coming back.”
36Olivia
EARLY HOURS OF THE MORNING, DAY SIX OF THE 2024 OLYMPICS
When Olivia had walked out of the apartment that evening to buy a late-night takeaway, the most exciting thing she’d expected to find was a new item on the menu at her and Aditi’s favorite Greek restaurant. What she didn’t expect was to get a call from Zeke just after midnight on her way home. But there she was, shepherding three of the world’s most famous athletes up seven flights of stairs to her front door.
