Page 74 of About to Fall

Not because of skating, or pressure, or Renaud’s disappointment. Those were familiar terrors. Well worn grooves my anxiety knew by heart.

This was new.

This was Adrian dissecting cartoon characters with me at midnight. Bringing me coffee before practice without being asked. Stretching beside me on the mats while I told him things I hadn’t told anyone.

This was every wall I’d spent years building coming down one careful piece at a time.

And the terrifying part wasn’t that he was doing it.

It was that I was letting him.

I knew my pattern. Dr. Priya and I had mapped it out in excruciating detail. The way I reached for people when I was hurting, mistook proximity for love, poured myself into someone else because being needed felt safer than being alone.

Théo. Julien.

Each time, I’d told myself it was different.

So the smart thing was to be careful. To take it slow. To not dive into the deep end with another person when I was still learning how to doggy paddle.

But this was Adrian.

Adrian, who called me insufferable like it was a compliment. Adrian, who didn’t flinch when I told him about the pills. Adrian, who made room for me to be something other than perfect and golden and fine.

I didn’t want to be careful.

For the first time in a long time, I wanted something without immediately calculating what it would cost me.

So I closed the distance between us and kissed him.

It was nothing like Osaka. That had been anger and adrenaline and the desperate need to burn something down. This was something that had been building quietly for weeks, all of our time together accumulating like pressure beneath the surface. At the rink we had structure, rules, the safety of routine. But here, in a dim hotel room with his hand on my thigh and the door locked and no one expecting us anywhere, the distance we'd carefully maintained didn't have anywhere to hide.

His hand came up to cup my jaw and I leaned into it, into him, let myself sink into the kiss like I had all the time in the world.

The iPad slid off the pillow and landed somewhere on the floor. Neither of us cared.

I pushed forward, shifting my weight, and then I was on top of him—knees bracketing his hips, hands planted on either side of his head. He looked up at me with a mix of wonder and want, his chest rising and falling faster now.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“This is new.”

“Is it okay?”

“Nicky.” He laughed, breathless. “It’s extremely okay.”

I kissed him again, deeper this time, and felt his hands slide up my back under my shirt. His fingers traced my spine and I shivered. I couldn't help rolling my hips down against his, swallowing the groan he made against my mouth.

“Tell me,” I murmured against his lips, “did you bring your giant box of condoms to Paris?”

Adrian's laugh was husky and delighted. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes, I brought them. Same box from Osaka.” A beat. His voice dropped. “Haven't used any since.”

Heat flooded through me so fast it made me dizzy. Since Osaka. Since me. He hadn't been with anyone since me. My hips rolled down involuntarily and we both groaned at the friction.