Page 4 of A Gold Medal in Love
“I don’t even know why I try with you,” she sighs. “Stop showboating, or I’ll make you carry my luggage.”
“Too bad I don’t have a service sub around here to do it for us.” I look around the airport. “Speaking of which, you think they’ll have those same fucked up beds they had in Paris to ‘prevent them from fucking?’”
“Not like it would stop you from finding strange. It sure wouldn’t have stopped you then, and it won’t stop you now.” She rolls her eyes.
“You know I love to fuck bitches up against the wall,” I laugh, proving her point.
“Oh, hey, speaking of showboating.” She curls her lips.
“I refuse to apologize for being a good time.” I elbow her in her side.
“Look, our bags. I am saved from the remainder of this conversation.” She walks up to the carousel.
After we get to the village, we split up to meet our respective coaches.
Coach Petras is a no-nonsense butch who spent years on the U.S. team and finally got the opportunity to get into professional hockey when she was tapped to coach in the PWHL. She’s a tall, white, short-haired brunette who is logical, thorough, and still manages to be compassionate when one of her team members is going through rough shit—whether it’s professional or personal. Since this is not my first Olympics experience, I’ve worked with her before, and I’m excited for the opportunity to work with her again. Not only does she always have my back as a queer woman, she also never misses an opportunity to correct someone when they misgender me. Every time we get a new member of the team, she makes sure an icebreaker is stating pronouns, so there’s no awkwardness when I tell people I’m they/them.
I pretty much came out of the womb as a lesbian. Not that we’re any better than Purple Heart Lesbians, but I’m a Gold Star. Being with women always seemed like a no-brainer. What was a more complicated journey for me was accepting my gender. Coming from a family where pro hockey was always going to be my destiny, I was afraid to push the envelope even further than being gay. Locker rooms were hard enough, you know? Homophobia in sports is declining, but transphobia is still pretty intense. It took a lot of therapy for me to be comfortable being out as nonbinary, even after CJ Jackson paved the road for folks like me.
Luckily, I’ve never had any players in the PWHL make overt comments about it, but sometimes the microaggressions get under my skin. It’s part of why Charlie and I get on so well. She uses female pronouns, but she doesn’t use her full name. If someone doesn’t use our chosen names, I get a little extra.
“Floquet, here’s your room key.” Coach interrupts my musing by handing me a room key.
“Coo coo coo, now I can continue bothering Charlie. Most excellent,” I chortle.
“Uh, Floquet, you’re not with Lajoie this year.” Coach winces.
“What? Why the fuck not?” I bluster, folding my arms.
“New person in charge. They wanted athletes from the same country to room together.” Coach shrugs. “I know it sucks, but I’m sure you two can survive.” She pats my shoulder.
I throw my head back and groan. “Yeah, all right. What member of the team do I get to torture instead?”
She flips her clipboard around, pages through some papers, and looks up at me straight-faced. “Gray,” she utters.
I screw my face up in confusion. “Gray? The fuck are they? Did we tap someone who isn’t in the league?”
“Imani Gray, figure-skater,” Coach elaborates.
“Ex-squeeze me? I’m not even with a hockey player?” I gasp dramatically. “Coach, you can’t do this to me.”
“You’ll be fine,” she deadpans. “Just be…” She gestures up and down my body. “Your normal chaotic self.”
“Wait just a goddamn second.” I throw a hand up. “Is this the figure skater who is known for being a complete ice queen? And no, I do not mean that she’s at the top of her sport, even though I have actually heard that she is. I mean it in a derogatory way—like she’s unapproachable, unfriendly, and downright hostile.ThatImani Gray?”
“So she needs some media training. Maybe you can be a good influence. Everyone knows you’re a media darling. You’re like Peeta Mellark level on charming the audience,” she reminds me.
“I thinkHunger Gamesis an apt comparison in this case. She’s not just a Katniss Everdeen, she may be worse even than that,” I grimace. “And you want me to room with that woman? She’ll find me so aggravating, she’ll kill me in my sleep.”
“Now, now. You’ve never met a player you couldn’t win over. Isn’t that your claim to fame?” Coach tries to pep me up.
“Actually, my real claim to fame is—” I begin.
“Floquet, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to hear about your sex life?” Coach cuts me off.
“So, actually, kink and sex are not necessarily intertwined, and—” I immediately begin soapboxing.
“Floquet,” Coach interrupts me with a sterner voice. “Can you pretend you’re in a corporate environment and just shut the fuck up once in a while?”