Page 12 of Powder
To fill the silence, I admitted something myself. “It’s lonely out there sometimes. People think all the travel and sponsors are glamorous. They don’t see the airports at three a.m. or the hotels where you don’t know anyone. Feels like I’m always moving, never home.”
“You’re young enough to thrive on it, Tian,” he said quietly. “I’m just… gah… old.”
“You’re not old,” I shot back, brushing my thumb over his cheek. “You just hit your prime earlier than I did, and now you get to think about what’s next.”
“I don’t know what’s next,” he admitted. “I have two years left on my contract, and I… do I even have that in me? Some mornings I wonder.” He let out a shaky laugh. “And then I think, fuck yes I do. It’s just—it takes more work now. More time to keep up. More energy to see things through.”
“Do you think we’ll see each other after this?” The words came out halting, my throat dry. My palms were damp, and I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Part of me wanted to bite the question back, afraid of hearing no, afraid of seeing pity on his face. But I needed to know, even if the answer gutted me. “Would you want to? I mean, I could visit Harrisburg, and when you play Denver you could look me up… y’know.” Jeez, I couldn’t even put it into words.
“Part of me wants to,” Jack murmured. “But we can’t.”
“We can’t?”
“We said we’d have the two weeks; it’s for the best.”
I wanted to argue; I thought I saw hesitation in his expression. Maybe he wanted to argue with himself, but then I nodded, my chest tight. “I get that.”
His gaze went soft for a moment, but then he shook his head. “I mean, what even would it look like back in the real world? It wouldn’t be bike rides and sunsets and dancing, it would be… ships passing in the night.” He frowned at his analogy, and it made me smile.
“I know.”
“That’s why this can’t go anywhere, Tian. Look, I’m not trying to be negative, and I don’t want to sound miserable, but I need to be honest. I have to go back and work hard on myself—my body, my game. And you’re so close to making Team USA, you’re at the top of your game.”
“From your lips,” I muttered.
“You can’t let yourself get distracted, not now. I needed this reset with you, but when the season starts, it’s everything. And I know you’ll be just as busy, chasing comps and medals. We’d barely see each other. That’s not fair to either of us.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his reasoning was sound. He wasn’t pushing me away because he didn’t care; he was trying to be realistic. Still, it stung.
I swallowed hard, my voice cracking as I blurted, eyes fixed anywhere but on him too desperate and too raw to hold it back, “It’s lonely out there sometimes. Even with all the travel, all the sponsorship perks… it’s lonely. It’d be nice to have a friend that?—”
Jack cut in quickly, almost too quickly. “—that what? Meets up every so often to hook up, then leaves?”
The words hit me like a punch. I flinched, hurt sharp in my chest. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean… shit.”
There was regret in his eyes, but the damage was done. My throat worked around words I couldn’t quite form, the air heavy between us.
“I get it,” I said, even if every part of me hated agreeing.
I curled into his side, pressing my face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He wrapped an arm around me, his lips brushing the top of my hair, and I kissed the warm skin at his throat. We clung to each other as if we could stop the night from ending. But underneath the sweetness of the kisses and the warmth of his embrace, I knew the truth—that when morning came, we’d be heading in different directions, pretending it was all okay.
The next morning,I woke first and spent the longest time staring at Jack’s face, weighing everything in my head—gold medals and glory on one side, the man in front of me on the other. My mind spun through possible futures: standing on Olympic podiums, sponsors cheering my name, or walking away from everything I’d battled through to build a life with him. Neither path was easy, and the ache in my chest told me both mattered more than I wanted to admit. The early sun filtered through the gauzy curtains at the windows, laying shadows across his skin, catching on the rough stubble of his jaw. There was utter peace in his expression as he slept, the kind that made my chest ache with wanting to freeze this moment forever. wondering if the chance at Olympic gold, at success, was worth more than this.
More than what?
My rational side kicked in—I absolutely hated my rational side. We’d shared sex and connection filled with fun and laughter, capturing idyllic moments that weren’t part of normal life. Yet here I was, making it seem like more than it could everbe, and I knew I was blowing it out of proportion. I knew what we needed to do.
My parents had sacrificed so much to get me to the level I was at—early mornings driving me to the slopes, scraping together money for equipment and travel, holding their breath every time I fell hard and got back up again. I’d given up everything to be here too: friendships, normal school life, a chance at anything resembling stability. And now I was lying here thinking what? That a two-week fling, however perfect, was worth more than all of that? The thought twisted in my gut, made me feel selfish and reckless, but also desperate because some small, dangerous part of me whispered maybe it was.
I wanted this.
I couldn’t have this.
I shouldn’t want this.
Jack stirred, then woke and smiled at me, the smile wavering as the realization of the end of this hit him as hard as it hit me.
“Shower?” he asked. We brushed our teeth, kissed between mouthfuls of toothpaste, held hands, touched every chance we got, as if we could make up for all the time we were about to lose.
