He regards me with a considering look as if my boring aspirations are way more interesting than the majestic ocean right outside his door. “This sounds like, how you say, dream job for you.”
“I mean, I hope so. But I’m not great at pitching myself,” I admit. “A lot of athletes either think they have so much money it’s never going to run out. Or that they don’t make enough to pay someone else to manage their funds. Plus, there are a lot of horror stories about Black stars being swindled out of their earnings by unscrupulous money managers. You kind of can’t blame them for being wary of trusting someone else to put them on a plan and handle their hard-earned money. It took me years to finally convince my brother to let me manage his finances.”
Cheslav looks at me with such admiration that I find my face heating with embarrassment. “So, you are the reason he is not completely in the poorhouse despite his poor gambling decisions?”
“Pretty much,” I admit. “Like I said, I really love accounting. Cheerleading was fun. But this feels like my life goal.”
Cheslav looks down at his hands curled over the balcony’s wooden railing. “It must be nice to have a life goal beyond your original dream.”
This morning, I was shoving him away, but this afternoon…
I cover his hand with mine. “I’m sorry your last season happened during the pandemic. That must be very hard for you.”
He stiffens, but then he takes an audible breath and relaxes his shoulders. “I will tell you now, what I should have said the morning I received the call about our hockey season being put on pause. It is hard. So hard, I do not want to talk about it.”
I nod, wondering if I would have felt the same way if it hadn’t been so imperative that I find the next thing to sustain myself after I realized I wasn’t going any further as a cheerleader. That gives me an idea.
“The act of figuring out what came next really helped with my transition. You don’t have to go into your family’s business just because that’s what’s expected of you. Maybe while we’re quarantining together, you can use that time to come up with a new life goal. Something you want.”
He tosses me an almost smile. I can tell that it’s hard for him to be in this conversation with me. He’s not the kind of guy who talks about his feelings. At least not easily.
But he’s trying, I note. He’s trying for me.
“Let me show you rest of house,” he says instead of responding to my suggestion. Then without waiting for me to answer, he reverses the hold on our hands and pulls me back inside.
So no, we’re not exactly communicating at one-hundred percent. But that conversation feels like a good start.
Maybe Cheslav’s plan isn’t so crazy, after all.
Chapter Sixteen
“No! No! You’re crazy if you think I’m going to do that!” I yell after Cheslav comes into my room and pulls the covers off me the next morning.
Cheslav tugs at my wrist. “Come, krasotka. It is only few miles.”
“A few miles in the sand!” I respond. “And I’m not a runner.”
“Not yet, no,” he answers. “How about one mile, and we slowly increase?”
“But why, though?” I whine. “I just want to stay here, eat breakfast, and get to studying.”
“No breakfast, no study until you run with me.”
What kind of cruel beast…?
“Then I’ll starve and fail the CPA,” I answer, pulling the covers back over my head.
I feel the bed depress beside me with his weight. “You want me to leave you alone while you study, but we must spend time together so that I can convince you to become my wife.”
“Can’t we just talk or something? Get to know each other like that?” I ask, my voice still foggy with sleep.
“Nyet. Exercise is something I must do every morning. Or else my mind is not right.”
I lower the covers with an, “Aha! You never exercised once during our four days together.”
“Da, I did. But it was different kind of exercise.” His eyes darken with bitterness. “The kind you say is off limits because it is not good way to get to know each other. But if you remember, this kind of exercise is how I always woke you up.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “So you’re saying we either exercise or we fuck in the mornings. No compromise?”
“Yes, that is exact meaning of my words,” he answers without any shame whatsoever. “No compromise. Not on this.”
Uggghhhhh!
And that’s how I come to find myself on the beach, jogging beside Cheslav.
“So you do this, every morning?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the fact that I’m out here, jogging at the butt crack of dawn.
“Da, usually in home gym. Then, hour or two of strength training before practice or game day.”
