Page 33 of Off the Edge

I stared at the floor.

Numb.

Everything was cold—the room, my body, my soul.

My phone lay on the bed. Who would I call? I didn’t have anyone who would understand. Nobody could help me. There was only Cam, and now I didn’t even have him.

I folded my arms around myself, slid to the floor, and tucked my legs into my chest. I let the tears come alone in my room, where nobody could see. I wouldn’t be meeting Cam at nine p.m. Not this night, not ever. Not if he wanted to skate and win.

I dragged my hand down my face, collecting the wetness, and dropped my head back against the wall hard enough that it hurt.

The choice was impossible. To love him would be to ruin him.

No, not impossible. In truth, I had no choice at all.

TWELVE

CAMDEN

Ren didn’t show for our meeting outside the skate sharpener’s, and he didn’t answer my texts asking where he was. I walked back to my apartment through the snow and the quiet, and tried not to get too hung up on what his silence meant. Maybe his phone had died, or maybe the team had needed him for some last-minute changes to the opening ceremony. His no-show didn’t have to mean anything.

I sent him a silly text later that night, wishing him good luck for the opening ceremony tomorrow, and told him good night.

When I woke up the next morning, he hadn’t opened the message.

What if he’d derailed again?

If he had, he’d have texted me. Unless he’d derailed because of me? That didn’t sound like him. He’d had almost two years to get over realizing he kinda had a thing for guys, assuming he didn’t know before we’d met. A few rushed kisses in a taxi and an empty office weren’t going to tip him over the edge now, when we’d done a lot more explicit things on the run-up to the Meridian.

Breakfast in the cafeteria again. The atmosphere on opening ceremony morning was wired. Teams wore their official uniforms. The whole place buzzed with color and noise. I caught a glimpse of Ren with Team GB, but a lot of folks were trading Olympic enamel pins between me and him. There was no chance I could cross the room to him in my red and white clothes and make bumping into him look casual.

“How many pins do you have?” Zoe asked, returning to our table from a trade.

“I dunno. A couple?” I’d gotten a USA one from the chatty USA team on the first day. They’d felt sorry for me when I’d told them I had no idea trading pins was such a huge part of the Olympics subculture.

“That’s not enough. Here.” She gave me the official Olympic pin, with the classic rings.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, your lack of pins is making me look bad. We’re supposed to be partners, Cam.”

I laughed.

“Kinda exciting, huh?” She beamed. “The big day!”

“Yeah.” I tucked my new pin into my pocket. When I looked up, toward where Team GB had been, they’d moved on somewhere. I couldn’t see them in the crowd. It was fine. Today was a lot of waiting around until the big event at the stadium, then more waiting around after. There was no way I could miss Ren for the entire day. Once he saw me, and I saw his smile, I’d feel better about being ditched with no explanation.

THIRTEEN

REN

The opening ceremony day was meant to be light and loose, so practice on the ice was all flexibility and easy routines, nothing that could cause an injury at this late stage. I went through the motions, performing as I was supposed to. And didn’t feel any of it.

It was just the excitement of the day, the distraction of the ceremony later. I thrived on predictable routine, on staying busy. Today would be the opposite of that. It was normal to feel . . . off.

I swept over the rink, swapping blade edges, running easy twizzles, power crossovers, anything to keep my mind on the ice and off Camden.

I’d seen him at breakfast. Briefly. Chatting with his partner, probably about trading pins. Everyone swapped pins during their free time. I had several, and some I’d brought with me, given to me by my father from previous Winter Games.