Page 10 of A Follow-Through in Faking
“I don’t know what’s making breathing more difficult, the steam or the amount of space your ego takes up,” I tease, and Matteo snorts. “Plus, I’ve seen and had better.” This makes his smile drop, and mine grow.
“Liar,” he mumbles, but I cock a teasing brow at him.
My gaze lifts to the ceiling, thinking about the dinner Cata and I will have tonight. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone so hard during training today. I’m going to need all of my energy for Catalina Sanchez.
“You know what your greatest obstacle will be for the next eight months?” Matteo says, his voice breaking into my thoughts.
“Trying not to stab myself in the eyeball when I’m around Catalina?” Matteo sits back up and wraps his towel aroundhis hips before walking toward me and putting a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re not allowed to have sex with anyone else, Santi, and you sleep with someone new almost daily. How will you survive eight months without your playboy ways?” He’s taunting me, I can see it in the smug gleam in his eyes.
“I’ll focus on my career. It’ll distract me,” I reply, feeling a sense of unease settling in my chest.
“On your career or Cata?” A glare takes over my face, but my asshole of a best friend laughs. “Please, Santiago, you’ve been obsessed with her since you were kids. You always talk about her, dedicate every win to ‘rubbing it in her face,’ and you always get that glimmer in your eyes when her name is mentioned. You don’t hate her, you never have. You love the challenge she gives you.” My lips seal shut at that.
“Are we talking about Catalina?” someone says, and I jump in my seat, my heart skipping several beats.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, my eyes drifting to the crown prince of Monaco.
His Royal Highness Thomas Crovetto.
“I went for a swim and saw you two going into the sauna. I thought I’d join you, see what’s new,” Thomas says as he very gracefully sinks onto the bench next to Matteo, who jumps at the opportunity to tell our friend about my situation with Cata.
Thomas is always so calculated about his movements. I have never seen this man let loose in any way, but I wish he would. We’ve been friends for over five years, and I have yet to see him with a single hair out of place or hear a bad word come out of his mouth. Even around us, his friends, he thinks he has to keep up this façade that’s been ingrained in him since he was a child. I wish he’d be whoever he wants to be with us instead of being who he’s been told he has to be since he was born.
A king.
A leader.
An image.
A pawn.
But there’s no way to allow him to open up when we hardly ever see each other. We talk on the phone, sure, but with his busy schedule and ours, it’s difficult to find time to spend with one another, simply sharing a meal or a conversation.
“Is Catalina the woman you’re in love with but pretend you don’t like?” Thomas asks with his thick Monegasque accent, running a hand through his curls. He’s very tall with a chiseled face, a million muscles, beautiful dark brown skin, and a charming smile that wins over every single person he speaks to. I won’t lie. When we first started hanging out, I had a little bit of a crush on him, but that disappeared quickly.
They all seem to as soon as I start thinking about…her.
“I am not in love with her. What is wrong with you?” I blurt out, and Thomas tilts his head, intrigue in his eyes.
“So defensive,” he states, making atsknoise with his tongue. “Denying your feelings will get you as far as lying. Far enough to think you’ll make it to the finish line, but never close enough to reach it. My father always says, ‘One cannot reach the end when one has taken the wrong path.’”
“What century was your father born in?” Matteo says with a mischievous grin, but one look from Thomas is enough to make him clear his throat and turn serious.
The only way I can describe Thomas’ expression is how I imagine he looks at his brother.
Scoldingly. Warningly. Threateningly.
“All I’m trying to say is that you can deny how you feel to me, to Matteo, to yourself, all you want, but it will not help.” Thomas folds his hands over his lap, his towel snugly hugging his hips to prevent anything from accidentally slipping out. The complete opposite of Matteo, in other words.
“I’m getting irritated with both of you,” I say, wiping the sweat off my forehead. It’s getting even harder to breathe, and it isn’t because of the steam surrounding us. It hasn’t thickened. The only thing that’s changed is the heaviness of the conversation. “How are your royal duties going?”
Thomas smiles knowingly at me but doesn’t force us to continue speaking about my complicated feelings for Catalina.
“They are as they always have been, Santiago. Tiring.” He smiles, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling of the sauna. “But a future king must do as told and never complain.”
“You’re allowed to complain to us, you know?” Matteo chimes in, placing a hand on His Highness’ shoulder. “We will never tell anyone what passes between us.” It’s a promise neither one of us will ever break, but it’s not that easy for Thomas.
