Page 66 of About to Fall

“Uh, yeah.”

“Me too.”

Julien and another junior skater, Carter, were leaving as we approached. There was that awkward eye contact, the kind that made my skin prickle with discomfort. Julien gave me a small smile, tentative and a little sad. I nodded. Kept walking.

Adrian and I were alone, and when the door swung shut behind us, he turned toward me with a raised brow.

“Which one?” He picked up a resistance band and started stretching his lats.

“Which one?” I repeated.

“Which one did you fuck?”

“Pardon?”

“Please, Nicky. That was so cringe, I got blasted with secondhand embarrassment. Don't tell me it was the baby faced one. He looks like he still has a bedtime.”

“I don't kiss and tell.”

“Hmm.” He grabbed a set of dumbbells and settled onto a bench like we did this all the time. Like we were friends. “I could tell when you and Théo started fucking too. You really wear your emotions on your sleeve, Nicky. You should work on that.”

“Fuck off, Zhao.” I moved to the cable machine, putting distance between us. “Like you haven't slept with other skaters. You brought a gigantic box of condoms to Osaka.”

“Actually, no.” He started his reps, casual as anything. “You're the first. I don't shit where I skate. I just like to be prepared. Good little boy scout, that's me.”

I snorted. “I've seen you all over The Spill with other skaters. Müller. Reynolds.”

Adrian paused mid-rep, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Have you been stalking me, Nicky?”

“It's called being aware of the competition.”

“Uh huh. Well, for your information, Müller was interested in my best friend. Reynolds is just a friend. Imagine that.”

“Hard to imagine anyone willingly spending time with you.”

“You're here.” He set down the dumbbells and, right on schedule, peeled off his tank top. Because of course he did.

I kept my eyes fixed on the cable machine. Adjusted the weight. Did not look at the serpent tattoo curling around his hip. Did not think about tracing it with my tongue.

“Not willingly. What is your game, Zhao?”

“No game. I’m just working out.”

“You know what I mean.” I turned to face him fully. “You've never wanted to train together before. What's with the sudden interest in being gym buddies?”

He shrugged, picking up a heavier set of dumbbells. “We're both probably going to the Olympics. Yes, we're fighting for our own medals, but it's still Canada against the world, right? Shouldn't we get along for the sake of our motherland?”

“So you want us to get along… in the name of patriotism?”

“What can I say? My love for Mother Canada runs deep. I bleed maple syrup.”

“Do you actually believe your own bullshit?”

He laughed—genuine, surprised—and I found myself biting back a smile despite myself. Adrian had that effect. The ability to make you laugh when you were actively trying to stay annoyed with him.

“Fine. You want the truth?” He sat up, forearms resting on his thighs, dumbbells abandoned on the floor. “You skated scared in Osaka. I watched you hold back on every jump, every transition. You were clenched so tightly, you forgot you can do this shit in your sleep.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”