Page 4 of Full Split
Sid sighs and rubs his temples. "I think Pruitt should start coming after hours. Avoid the attention. It's distracting the others, and dangerous for him."
My stomach twists. "Hold on—"I'm right fucking here.Why is he talking about me like I'm a problem to be managed? "I didn't do anything wrong."
"Of course not," Wyatt says. He lifts his hand to my shoulder but thinks better of it. His face is tight with something like sympathy, which makes it worse. I can't stand to be pitied. "It's to keep you safe. Weston and I will join you, of course. It might be nice to practice without so many people around." He's trying, but I don't like it.
Sid nods and continues, barely acknowledging me. "You still have the key, yes?"
"Considering you haven't changed the locks since I was a teenager, yes."
"Good. You can supervise."
"Yeah," Wyatt says. "I've got it." He cuts his eyes over to me, clearly signaling Sid to get his head out of his ass and actually talk directly to me rather than over my head.
Big, burly Sid has enough hair to pass as a teddy bear, but he’s not built for emotions or grace. "I am sorry, Niles. It is truly not your fault."
"How do we know they're here for me? They could be here to photograph the great Alexei Sidorov. Olympic gold medalist training the next wave of greatness," I say with a flourish.
He rolls his eyes and scoffs but finally looks directly at me. There's anger in his eyes, but it’s not directed at me. The pity, on the other hand… I hate it. I hate being perceived as weak or singled out for being different. It's bullshit.
Sid thumps me on the back. "Get out of my gym before the next headlines are aboutthe great Alexei Sidorovbreaking some paparazzo's nose."
I throw up a half-salute, mostly to cover the sting in my throat and behind my eyes, before walking towards the locker room.
A weight drapes itself over my shoulders. Wyatt's arm. He's trying to comfort me on instinct. I should shake it off, but I don't.
Instead, I lean into him, just for a second, and forget everything else. The press. The awkwardness of constantly having an audience about something that has nothing to do with my talent or skill. The stares of every other athlete.
I soak up his warmth, basking in his breath near my ear and the way his chest rises and falls when I let my cheek rest there.
Then I look up. Right into his eyes. Dark, unreadable hazel eyes boring into me.
My lips feel dry, and I lick them without thinking. His eyes drop to the movement and the small hallway leading to the changing room is suddenly filled with awareness. It's thick and electric.
But Wyatt pulls back like he’s been shocked and clears his throat.
"Grab your bag," he says. "I'll grab Weston and we'll go for an early lunch."
And just like that, he's gone again, leaving tension and confusion in his wake.
CHAPTER 2
WYATT
This is wrong. It's so wrong.
I'm trying not to notice him. God knows I'm trying. But ever since that night I picked him up, and he said those things, I can't help it. I'm seeing Niles in a way I never have or ever wanted to. In a way I never considered I'd look at my son's best friend, a kid I've known since kindergarten tumbling class.
That's the thing, though. He's not a kid. I've known that for a while now, but to know a thing and to really notice it are two different animals. And for better or worse… I'm noticing. I hate myself for it, but I'm fucking noticing and I don't want to. I want to stop. I need to stop.
Every time I catch my eyes tracking him across the gym, I consider gouging them out. Not having eyes would be better than the fucked-up thoughts that creep up on me when my guard is down.
Focus, Wyatt. Focus.
Niles and Weston are at the high bar. Weston is on the side mats, stretching while he takes a water break, while Niles jumps up and grabs onto the bar, taking some easy test swings untilhe notices me watching. His lips quirk up at the sides, and then he's flying. Every move is effortless, combining sharp control and impossible height. It's apparent from the start that he's not working through his routine for the upcoming competition, but that's not too surprising. This is how it always goes with these two. They start off easy enough, warming up, working on their routines as they should. But it never takes long for them to get restless or competitive, especially when there's no one else around. What starts as a simple practice quickly ramps up into chaos.
Weston whoops and calls out, egging Niles on.Here we go.
I know the moment Niles is about to try something he shouldn't.
