Page 54 of A Gold Medal in Love

We trade places at the gate, and I wait, guards off, as the items thrown onto the ice in her honor and admiration are collected. When the floor is clear, I skate out onto the ice and wave at the audience.

The last interview followed by firing Coach unlocked something in me. I’m all smiles and warmth, but inside, I set the intention that this is for all the Americans who voted for Mamala. Everyone else can fuck off. But for those people, I’m going to pour all of myself into this so I can stand on that platform.

For once, I empty my mind of every browser tab. I don’t worry about the impending conversation with Blake; I push the world’s prejudices to tomorrow’s to-do list. I’m unconcerned with who will coach me now that I’ve fired Lowell, and I don’t give a shit about diet or exercise. I don’t even fuck with the intrusive thoughts that try to pile in and tell me I’m not Good Enough™.

I begin my routine, and I simply… get lost. I execute every spin and jump with admirable technique and precision. My dance is full of the passion and artistic expression that viewers have come to associate with an Imani Gray performance.

I exist for this, one with my skates. I feel the rhythm as only I can, completely outmatched by my competitors. I live in every movement, being born anew and dying in dramatic agony on every flick of my wrist and angle of my foot. I am nothing; I am eternal.

I’m locked in. I haven’t just overexercised for nothing; every moment on this ice has been leading me to these two final skates, beginning here with the short program.

And before I know it, I’m in final position. I come back to my surroundings, finding my way out of the unreality I had dissolved in. The first thing I feel is the lights bearing down on me. My body is covered in diamonds of sweat that sparkle off mybrown skin. I zero in on Blake, and it looks like they’re crying openly and whooping wildly like they’re an extra onJersey Shore. And the crowd? The crowd isscreamingas they bequeath me a standing ovation.

I keep my smile plastered on my face as I wave and skate off the ice, picking up a teddy bear along the way. When I make my way to Blake, I try to talk, but it comes out through the smile that can’t move. “Did I just…?”

“Become the second American, and seventh Olympian of all time to land a triple axel in the games?!” They burst with excitement.

I cock my head, the smile still stuck. “Uh-huh, yeah, that.”

“Can I hug you?” Blake checks.

“Please, Sir,” I respond, unmoving.

Their arms wrap around me, and then I’m being picked up. Blake holds me impossibly tight as their tears drip down onto my bun. A litany ofCupcakecomes from their mouth, and I’m not sure they mean for it to come out at all, nevertheless whispered so lovingly.

“I can’t move. I can barely breathe,” I warn them as I begin to float from my balloon back to Earth.

“Shall I carry you like the Queen you are?” Blake laughs in offering.

“I think maybe you should put me down?” I hesitate, not actually wanting to leave the cocoon of their muscular body.

“Of course, Cupcake,” They reply easily, setting me down gently.

“Grab my guards,” I tell Blake dazedly, wandering over to the kiss and cry.

“On it.” They follow me and sit next to me, handing me a Gatorade.

The action jolts me out of my haze. “This is full-calorie,” I hiss, turning to glare at them.

“Weird how that’s on purpose,” Blake deadpans.

“Don’t start with me right now,” I grind out.

Their voice goes impossibly low. “We are in front of cameras, waiting for your score. So I firmly suggest you just this once don’t put up a whole fucking fight about it and get the bare minimum of calorie restoration inside your body.”

I give Blake my most scathing look. “I’m going to drink this, but if you think I’m going to stop bratting when I do, you’re in for a shock.”

“Now why would I ever think you’d stop bratting?” Blake drawls, smirking.

“Because you’re a brat tamer; you get off on putting me in my place,” I scoff.

“You and I both know there’s no taming you, and I wouldn’t want to. Why would I want to pen in someone so wonderfully wild?” Blake purrs seductively.

I turn away and gulp the Gatorade down. When I still feel their eyes on me, I cap the bottle and turn back. “Stop looking at me like that,” I snap. “You’re fueling the rumors.”

Blake looks at me like they’re one second away from tearing all my clothes off and fucking me in full view of anyone who happens to be in the vicinity. The problem is, I want them to. And I don’t want them toeverstop looking at me like that.

The announcement we’ve been waiting for interrupts our argument, and we both turn toward the board to watch my scores arrive. I just yelled at Blake for their PDA, but my hand flies to their thigh to grip it in frantic suspense.