Page 51 of A Gold Medal in Love

“No, I’ll answer. I’m just surprised. I prayed for you to win gold, of course,” They tell me matter-of-factly.

I’m shocked into silence, but I don’t know what I expected. Why would I think any differently? Blake spends all their fucking time taking care of me, the little mess, scratching her way to gold. I don’t know how to love them back the way they deserve, but… maybe I could be a little less difficult.

Eventually, I’m going to have to ovary up and have the fucking eating conversation. For now, though, I snuggle deeper into their body and find their hand with mine.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

BLAKE

Olympics Day13

Monday, February 16, 2026

After my celebratory shotgun post semi-final win, I head to the makeshift studio where Imani is doing her latest interview. I’m all hopped up on a fresh win and the prospect of facing my best friend Charlie in the final on Thursday. In another reality, Charlie and I are trading insults and psyching each other out at the pub, but in this one, both of us have our hands full with… well, let’s face it: both of us are head over heels for the women we’ve met in Milan. I just don’t know what either of us is going to do about it.

That seems like a tomorrow problem.

For now, I’m going to see if I can scoot over to the interview in time to pump Imani up/calm her nerves before she puts on the mic pack.

Unfortunately, I do a bang-up (facetious) job of sneaking onto set, and by the time I have my pretty girl in my sights, she’s under the glaring lights.

I hear her laugh delicately, and I smile in response. That’s a fake laugh, for sure, but it’s a convincing one. I’m sure no oneknows how plastic it is except for me. I guess she didn’t need a pep talk after all.

Seeing her coach, I make a beeline and step in front of him.

“Excuse me!” He whispers harshly. “I am monitoring my athlete. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh, my apologies. I’m Blake Floquet, Imani’s roommate,” I introduce myself, holding out a hand to shake his.

In a move mirroring the first time I met my favorite ice queen, the coach glances down at my proffered palm and snorts in disgust. “I’m aware of who you are, Ms. Floquet.” Then he brings an arm up and tries to move me bodily out of his view.

I hold my position easily. I’ve got a lot of muscle on this guy—good fucking luck to him. “It’s Mx., thanks. We need to talk about Imani. I need your help,” I correct and then begin my explanation of why I’m bothering him.

Coach rolls his eyes. “I could not give less of a shit. Stop wasting my time.”

“Allow me to rephrase.Imanineeds your help,” I pivot in my phrasing.

“Of course she does. That’s quite literally my job. Now, if you’ll move out of my fucking way.” The coach clenches his fists in frustration.

Like this guy is going to fucking punch me. I wish a motherfucker would.

“I think Imani has a problem,” I try, undeterred.

“No shit. I can’t get her to interview properly or to land a fucking triple axel. Who are you telling?” Coach asks in a bored tone.

“Have you not noticed how little she eats, how much water she drinks, how she obsesses over her weight, and how much she practices?” I continue, unwilling to let this guy steamroll me. If I don’t let my father do it, I’m certainly not going to let this small-dicked piece of shit do it.

“Listen. It’s… Blake, right?” He begins, and I’m immediately suspicious of his tone. “I understand you’ve gotten a little attached to her. Women like you… I get it. But Imani is under strict supervision. A highly trained team monitors all of her intake and output.” The coach pats my shoulder with fake affection, and I inwardly grin that he has to reach up to do it.

I could kill him. The misgendering and lesbophobia are nothing I haven’t experienced before; I can handle it. But this man is knowingly assisting Imani in the destruction of her mind, body, and spirit, and that is something I cannot abide.

Taking his wrist that is still resting on my body in my hand, I apply pressure to it. I can’t say I crush it, because I’m sure that with the amount of rage I have riding my body at this juncture, I might actually make powder of his bones. But I do apply just enough strength to make him wince in pain. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again. Got it?” I accompany the words with a face I’ve only blessed a few souls with, but I know how unhinged my demonic smile looks, because he tries to back away in fear. “Iwillget Imani the help she needs. If you won’t help me, then you’renotgoing to stand in my way.”

The coach glares at me, but says nothing.

Releasing his clammy limb, I brush my hands down the thighs of my pants as though I can erase his germs from my skin, then I move away from him to watch Imani finish her interview.