Page 16 of A Gold Medal in Love

Me: Well, come decompress here. With me

Charlie: Blake, I promise that you can have a beer without me. It’s entirely possible for you.

Me: Pfft. I know that. I’m worried about YOU, sugar tits

Charlie: *eye roll emoji* I’m fine. You know we both beat everyone soundly. I just need to zen out. Today was so much.

I think back to the dazzling lights and booming sounds of the opening ceremony we just left. Yikes. It was a lot for me, too, but mostly I was trying to pay attention and be as still as possible to “represent America in the manner which it deserves.”

First of all, America is a mess right now. America doesn’t even deserve the medals we are going to give to her. She needs to be put in the corner for real. Which, I suppose, she is, being on the UN human rights watchlist. I can’t decide if it’s fortunate or unfortunate that we were allowed to compete and not banned like Russia. Money talks, and it has a lot of bad things to say with its bloody currency.

I snap back from my digression when the bartender puts my beer down in front of me. I offer him a winning smile, tip a gulp back, and continue texting Char.

Me: Yeah, it was really cool, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there

Charlie: You? A squirrel? Color me shocked.

Me: Wow, Char, you’re so funny. Come be a comedienne in person

Charlie: My obnoxious roommate is off doing who fucking cares what, so I’m going to enjoy my room for as long as I have it.

Me: What if I begged you?

Charlie: The great Dominant, on their knees for me? Hm.

Charlie: …still no. You have other friends, you know.

Me: Yes, but I love you the best!

The message shows as read, but no dots that precede an incoming message pop up on my screen. I try to goad Charlie one last time.

Me: Okay, heard. Enjoy your FLING *music emoji* *red heart emoji* *two girls emoji* *orange heart emoji* *white heart emoji* *pink heart emoji*

Sighing, I put my phone on the counter and direct my attention to the various screens with their Olympics coverage.Drinking my delicious beverage from the gods, I start bopping my head along to the songs playing for the figure skating short programs. I’m not even thinking about Imani until suddenly she fills the screen in a little pink number that has me salivating.

But then, I’m no longer focused on how fuckhot she looks. Her performance is sheer art. I know jack about figure skating or dancing, but this woman is delivering something that should win her team gold. Shit, I’ll give her a medal of my own if she doesn’t receive her flowers from the committee. To someone who knows nothing of this sport but knows how to command the ice on a pair of skates, she looks like she has it all: charm, artistry, and technicality. Her jumps are flawless, her dancing is magnificent, and the whole time she skates, she graces the audience with a smile I’ve never seen on her face.

Imani Gray was born to figure skate, and I’m lucky enough to be alive to see it. Holy shit, this bitch sleeps two feet away from me.

I watch it all fall apart as soon as an interviewer approaches her post-performance.

“Imani, can you tell me what was happening between your coach and you during the kiss and cry?” The same man from yesterday grins into his microphone.

“I thought I made it clear I’d be taking no more questions from you?” She glares into his eyes, another camera angle situated right behind the man’s back for the best viewpoint.

He laughs awkwardly. “Surely, a little disagreement between colleagues is nothing to end a relationship over?”

She leans over and speaks into the microphone that he’s placed under her chin. “You don’t deserve to be in the same airspace as I do; nevertheless, be called a colleague. That’s enough questions for today.”

With that, she turns away, tutu flouncing, giving the interviewer her back.

Another camera tries to press into her from the front, but she grimaces and flashes a double bird before it quickly goes dark, and the screen picks back up on the man.

He straightens his tie and tries to regain his composure. “As usual, such a beautiful performance from such an ugly person. We are left to wonder if Olympian Gray saves her romance only for the ice. Vote in the poll by texting the number below…”

I sigh into my empty stein and pull out my phone. I have got to help her with these assholes before it wrecks her career, and in the meantime, she can keep me company. A little eye candy never hurt anyone, right? Right.

I’m sipping my brewski when Imani walks through the door in what we were required to wear for the opening ceremony. She makes the standard Team USA sponsored by Polo Ralph Lauren look fucking adorable. The patriotic country club chic linen pants and blazer combo look perfectly placed on her buttoned-up self.