Page 37 of Powder
“Let’s leave that worry for tomorrow,” he replied and so I let it go. He lifted his head from my shoulder, his eyes lazy and heavy lidded, and stole a kiss. “I don’t want anything upsetting to slip into this night. I only want us to be happy and desperately in love.”
I cupped his cheek. He was warm. “That’s easy for me. I’m so crazy in love with you that I don’t know up from down.”
His mouth found mine again, the kiss slow and searching. If we’d not been in public, I was sure he would have climbed out of his chair to straddle me. Something I would be fully down for back in our suite by the canal.
“I love you too, so damn much. We’ll work it out. I promise. Somehow, we’ll be together.”
Our lips met again. Then once more. I fed him pizza. We laughed. We sang in Italian even though we didn’t speak the language. We sipped more wine. We whispered and touched. I fell more in love with him with every glance. If we could sit here for the rest of our lives, listening to the stories of lovers past, eating and drinking, and just being I would want for nothing.
But, we had lives to return to. Lives that were far apart and hidden in the shadows of uncertainty. As they say in Italy if they are roses they will bloom.
Milan sparkled outside the window, the city glowing in celebration. Somewhere out there people were still clinkingglasses and shouting in a dozen languages, chasing the high of Olympic history. Inside, in the soft hush of a hotel suite, it was just us.
EIGHTEEN
Tian
Jack was sprawledacross the bed, hair damp from the shower, still faintly flushed from too much kissing. He looked at me as I’d hung the moon, which was ridiculous because I was just a guy who threw himself off ramps with a board strapped to his feet.
“You ever think about what comes next?” he asked me, out of nowhere.
I froze halfway through pulling a T-shirt over my head. “Next?”
“Yeah. After this. After the Olympics, after the season. You and me.” His voice cracked a little, as if the question weighed more than the medals on the dresser.
I sat down beside him, brushing my fingers over the Railers hoodie he’d tossed onto a chair earlier, the one I’d stolen more than once. “I try not to. If I think too hard, it feels impossible. You’re tied to Harrisburg. I’m always moving. We’re…” I trailed off.
Jack’s hand slid over mine, squeezing. “We’re stubborn enough to make it work.”
I stared at him, at the scar along his jaw, at the way his eyes didn’t move away. And I thought about that night at the rinkwhen he pressed his hand to the glass and grinned at me as if the world couldn’t touch us. I thought about pizza in Milan, grease dripping onto napkins while he teased me about how much I could eat.
And suddenly it didn’t feel impossible anymore. It felt inevitable.
The day we left Italy—Jack to Pennsylvania and me to Colorado—was the worst. We’d both been flying high off our medals, and the beautiful time we’d had just the two of us, and splitting apart ripped a hole right through me. Since then, I’d done nothing but miss him, and spent a lot of time at my parents’ place, trying to ground myself. I was here again tonight, ready to sit down and watch the Railers game with Dad, who was as big a Railers supporter now as he was NY, something about supporting the man in my life—I loved him for it.
I’d spent the last thirty minutes slumped on the sofa, the scent of food wafting my way, staring at my phone. He’d be getting ready now, only an hour out from the puck dropping, so I decided I wouldn’t message him other than the good luck I’d sent him when I’d woken up this morning in my decidedly lonely bed. I must have gone into a deep, dark daze when my cell vibrated because it shocked me so much, I ended up nearly throwing it off my lap.
Jack: Hey you
Tian: Hey you!
Jack: Sitting in my cubby, thinking of you
Tian: Sitting on Mom and Dad’s sofa, thinking of you. Getting dinner, then watching the Railers game.
Jack: I’ll make it a good one for you.
Tian: Big crowd?
Jack: Sold out. They’re doing a presentation before puck drop, all about the gold medal. I’ll be out there feeling stupid but grinning like an idiot.
God, I wish I could have been there, but I’d had two sponsor meetings today, and two more tomorrow—it seemed everyone wanted a piece of my silver medal-winning ways.
Tian: I wish I could be there.
Jack: I wish you were here. I miss you.
Tian: I miss you more. Break a stick for me.
