Page 32 of Back Outside Edge

“Hey, I'm the one who gets to decide what my best moments are.” He leans down and brushes our lips together, then rolls away. I don't realize the face I'm making until he looks back at me. Laughs and taps my mouth with his finger. “Don't pout.”

“I'm not pouting. I don't pout.”

“Tell that to your lips.” He replaces his finger with his mouth for another light kiss. “That was amazing, Stefan. Thank you.”

Was it though? How could it have been amazing for him? For me, yes, but for him? “Are you sure you don't want me to…” The words trail off again. Why am I incapable of saying the words?

“I'm sure.” His hand slides down my chest and out of my shirt. I miss it immediately. "Also, we could be interrupted at any moment."

What is he—oh, fuck. I've forgotten where we are, what's happening around us.

And more fuck. Was this just a way to distract me? Nothing more than a diversion to occupy me in the darkness? "Did you just do that to keep me from freaking out?"

He laughs, rolling back into me to kiss me again, hot, deep, but brief. "Come on." With a single movement, he's on his feet, a hand held out to help me up. "I can't believe I rolled around on that floor."

Letting him pull me up, I look down at the floor in question. My brain is still mostly offline, but yeah, ok. He's right. It's far from clean. When he stoops down to pick up his phone, his face dips into the light, and I watch it for clues.

Nothing but his usual cheerful smile. While I'm feeling everything.

As soon as we get out of this elevator, he'll be leaving, and I'm not sure I'm ok with that.

I don't want him to go. I really, really don't want him to go. Not just because that was the most incredible orgasm I've ever had. But because Evan—I want to spend time with him, all the time. Way more time than I have available to spend with somebody else. Even if it's in a stuck elevator. So maybe it's best he's leaving, because that realization is more terrifying than being stuck in that fucking elevator.

Chapter 14

Evan

April

Calgary, Canada

The world doesn’t stop, even if I feel like I left a piece of myself in Frankfurt. It keeps moving, faster and faster as the trimester draws to a close.

Something's off, though I couldn't explain why. Everything should be perfect. I’m the nation's hero; I'm keeping my grades high enough to pass; I go to the occasional party or go bar-hopping with friends. Gabby has me on a limited training schedule during the off season, so I have more energy than usual.

Any other time, the excess of energy would go into hook-ups after my nights out. I have ample opportunities, given my newfound status as campus celebrity, but every time someone starts to flirt with me, I'm not interested. It makes no sense. I’m not a player, but I’m not a monk, either. I should be taking advantage of my results at Worlds, enjoying my fifteen minutes of fame. No matter how much I try to convince myself, though, I’m just not that into anyone.

My ridiculous brain keeps going back to the perfect moment with Stefan when I made him come in an elevator, with nothing but a bite and a few moments of dry humping. I have never in my life felt so powerful, so satisfied, and I can’t let go of how much the memory turns me on.

Nobody else seems worth pursuing, which is more than a little terrifying. Stefan was a fling, an enticing bit of fun while we were stuck together. I can’t keep thinking about him, keep remembering the shock and awe on his face when he came. I don’t do relationships; I can’t do relationships. Not again, and absolutely not with another skater.

We haven’t spoken since I left our room in a rush to catch my taxi, and that’s fine. It’s good, for the best.

But I can’t stop thinking about him.

It's enough to drive a man crazy.

I'm in the middle of finals, and Gabby and I have been arguing about next season’s music choices for the past two weeks, when I finally break and text him.

It's because of the quad loop; I need it if I want to continue to advance, and I'm not getting it on my own. Gabby, though an excellent coach, can't figure out what's wrong with my technique. Quads are new enough they're not in her repertoire yet, and while we managed to figure out the toe loop and Salchow, on this one, we're stuck.

I land it sometimes, almost half the time, even, but that's not enough. A fifty percent success rate on a good day is not going to win me Nationals, and I'm determined to do so. If this last season has proved anything to me, it's that I can beat Alexandre, that I should be the national champion. If anyone deserves one of those two slots I gained us for the Olympics, it's me.

After yet another frustrating couple hours of practice, I don’t go to the library for the study group I should be attending before my last final. Instead, I go back to my apartment, sit down on my ratty, worn brown couch with the multicolored throw Mama made me, take out my phone, and scroll way back to my text thread with Stefan.

Me

Hey.