Page 21 of Let the Games Begin
“Yeah, and in those three minutes, you’ve driven recklessly to scare meandthrown me to the ground,” he said.
“First of all, I didn’tthrowyou to the ground.”
“Sorry, no, you’re right—you didn’t throw me to the ground, youpinnedme to the ground,” he said with a smirk.
“If I’d wanted topinyou to the ground, you would have known it, and I wouldn’t have done it like that.”
“Howwouldyou have done it, then?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow, challenging her.
“Well, first of all I would’ve…” Her voice trailed off as she thought about it. She glanced over at Zeke, and they locked eyes for a fraction of a second. For a moment the heat in Athens felt a little bit hotter. But Olivia tore her eyes away from him before the atmosphere could get any more charged than it already was. She returned her focus to the road. The slightly flustered look on her face confirmed that she’d felt that sharp pulse of attraction too.
“I would feel a lot safer if you slowed down; I don’t want to die like this,” he said after a pause.
“I don’t know,Olympic athlete killed in freak golf buggy accidentkind of feels like a pretty good headline to go out on.”
“The fact that you’re smiling as you’re saying that… terrifies me,” he said as he looked over at her, less terrified by her driving and more alarmed by just how quickly he could feel himself starting to like her.
“That’s kind of the effect I was going for,” she said with a gleam in her eyes.
For a few moments, they just sat in comfortable silence. Zeke hadn’t really got the chance to walk around the Village—he’d spent most of his time in Athens so far at the gym or in practice sessions. But as Olivia drove them, he looked up at all the different venues and training facilities, noting the similarities between this Village and the ones he’d gotten to know in Tokyo and Rio. Then, once he was sure she was too focused on the road ahead to pay attention to him, he looked over at Olivia. She seemed completely at ease behind the wheel. She had an air of effortless confidence about her. And despite thefact that she was covered in mud and wearing a garishly bright volunteer uniform, she was still as pretty as the very first time he’d seen her. Her lips were glazed with a dewy layer of gloss that glimmered in the sunlight as she smiled into the distance. Her long, intricate braids were pulled back into a ponytail. One curl was threatening to break loose, but it gave him an unobstructed view of the delicate way her lashes framed her warm, brown, determined eyes. She was gently tapping the steering wheel as if playing along to a song he couldn’t hear, and while her expression was far away, the smile on her lips made it clear she was happy wherever she was in her imagination. Then she took a sharp turn to avoid a puddle on the ground and almost drove them into the Karate Center.
“It’s not me, it’s the buggy,” she muttered as she pressed down on the brakes and then started driving again. “And the rain last night,” she added.
“Is that why you’re covered in mud?” he teased.
“If you’re not careful, next time Iwilldrive you into a puddle,” she warned.
“Killing a national hero wouldn’t lookgreaton your CV, Olivia,” he joked.
“No, it probably wouldn’t. And your fan club of teenage girls and middle-aged men would probably dox me too,” she nodded.
“Oh, they’d do way more than just that. They’d make true-crime podcasts and write fan fiction about how you started plotting this the second we met,” he said.
“And then you’d have no choice but to come back to earth as a ghost to read fan fiction about your own murder,” she said.“But you already do that, don’t you, Zeke? Read fan fiction about yourself.”
They were both silent for a second as Zeke opened and closed his mouth.
“I knew it,” she laughed as she glanced over at him.
“In my defense, the fanfic writers know how to tell a good story,” he said, shrugging off his embarrassment. He’d accidentally stumbled across a link to a website called AO3 while reading through his mentions and found a whole trove of dubiously written but gripping fan fiction about himself. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but whenever he got bored, he read through new posts tagged with his name and found himself engrossed in spelling-mistake-littered epics about fictional versions of himself in increasingly imaginative scenarios.
“Why can I imagine you just sitting in bed, reading erotica about yourself while giggling and kicking your feet—” she teased.
“Giggling and kicking my feet?Stop it,” he said, rubbing the side of his head. He was mortified.
“Waiting up lateevery single nightto see if a new chapter has been added to one of those smutty one-hundred-and-thirty-chapter fan-fiction series.” She clearly loved watching him squirm.
“You’re ridiculous,” he said, trying not to let his face betray him.
“What’s your favorite genre?” she said wickedly. “Do you like fluffy fic where you’re the dream boyfriend? Or are you more into those mafia stories? Do you like the ones where you’re not famous, or are you more of aplot what plotkind of guy?” sheasked, delighted to have found something to hold over him. Zeke should never have booked a buggy. Walking for half an hour and being late would have been much less stressful than this ordeal of a journey.
“First of all, I don’t know what any of those things are. Secondly, isn’t it a little bit misogynistic to make fun of a genre mostly written by young women, Olivia?”
“I’m not making fun of them, I’m making fun of you,” she said. “And remember, I’m doing you a favor. I could leave you stranded at any—” But before she could finish her sentence, the golf buggy hurtled down another hill, skidded into a puddle, and sent a huge splash of mud and water into the air. They came to a sharp stop as he and Olivia threw their arms up in fear.
Olivia turned the buggy off, took the keys out, and looked over at him in shock. He didn’t need a mirror to know what she was staring at. Zeke’s white-red-and-blue uniform was completely soaked. He could feel the splatters all over his face, and as he reached up to touch the top of his head, he felt sticky mud beginning to seep into his brand-new trim. Olivia, on the other hand, had somehow managed to escape this puddle unscathed because of the angle they’d crashed at.
Zeke was supposed to be at the stadium for a big-time TV interview with the BBC. He was already twenty minutes late, and now his outfit was completely ruined. He jumped out of the buggy and tried to shake the mud off his shirt, but his running shoes plunged straight into a puddle and came out coated in a perfectly thick layer of mud.
