But if I were a better boyfriend, I’d have the bracelet for her to kiss—for at least one heat. Knowing I’m about to reach her empty-handed is a gut-punch.
Sulli is shaking out her arms. Swim cap on, she wears a Team USA knee-length, bodyskin swimsuit. She said she doesn’t care about the bracelet, but Sulli is superstitious—and I’m praying this won’t fuck her concentration.
“It’s alright.” Loren’s words hang in the air, and for a dumb moment, I think they’re meant for me. His hand is on Ryke’s shoulder, comforting his brother. “She’s going to win without an ugly bracelet.”
Ryke shoots him a look. “Daisy made it for her.”
“Still stand by what I said.” Lo flashes a dry smile.
I need to be with Akara. “Thanks for your help,” I tell Ryke quickly. Before he can say anything, I rush down the stairs. Skipping a few.
“Slut!” some prick yells.
I immediately stop dead.
Awkward chatter melds with the normal commotion, and I see Connor and Lo restraining Ryke from barreling down the stairs towards a lower row.
Where is this prick?
“Sullivan’s a SLUT!”
Found him. He has his hands cupped around his mouth. A shit-eating grin. He can’t be older than sixteen, seventeen. His friends snicker, but the people around him drill nastier looks.
Comms crackle in my ear. “Price to Banks…ignore hecklers. Keep moving.”
I don’t work for Price.
But we’re all supposed to work together at the Summer Games. Teamwork. It might as well be the fire burning the Olympic torch, and I’d be an idiot to snuff it out.
I keep moving.
“Sluuuuut!”
I grit my teeth. He’s not loud enough to disturb the swimmers, but people shift uncomfortably in his section of the stands.
“She takes two dicks up the butt! Sluuut—”
“Hey!”
I whip my head back and upward. Ryke isn’t the first one to yell.
It was Sulli’s sister.
Winona Meadows hurries out of her row. Faster than Ryke can stop her. “Nona!” he warns. Greer shifts quickly out of his row. Attempting to keep pace with Winona.
Ryke is right behind Greer.
Like a bullet, Winona whizzes fast into the stairs between the sections. I’m further down. Watching as she descends and barrels towards this teenager. “You think you’re so cool?! You think you’re so funny?!”
He’s laughing.
I see hell in slow-motion. The girl—the girl with the high-bun who was recording me—she sticks her foot into the aisle. No other bodyguard has this vantage but me.
“WINONA!” I yell at the top of my lungs. Thinking she’ll stop.
She’ll slow.
She doesn’t.
She’s a fucking Meadows.
I race up the steep, concrete stairs just as Winona’s foot catches on the girl’s ankle. She falls forward. Face-first towards the hard cement lip of the stair.
My muscles scream as I run faster. Harder, and I drop, pounding my knees against concrete to catch Winona under the arms, before her face smashes into cement.
“Oh my God!”
Shrieking.
“Is she okay?!”
People are on their feet. People are crowding the aisle. Crowding us.
I have Winona tucked against me. Her head digging against my abs in an awkward position. But I hesitate to move her right away. She takes shallow, shocked breaths. “Banks?”
“You didn’t hit your head,” I tell her.
“Is she okay?” people ask me repeatedly. “Don’t move her,” someone else says.
“She’s fine. Can you give her some space?” I jerk my head, signaling the good Samaritans to take a seat.
Winona breathes more uneven, realizing how close she came to eating the stairs. She could’ve broken her nose, knocked out her teeth, somersaulted until she was concussed, cracked her head wide open.
“Your legs alright? Think you can move?”
“I…” She shifts her head up. “Yeah—”
“Winona!” Ryke has reached his daughter. So has Daisy and their bodyguards. I feel the heat of Wylie, Greer, and Price, and despite me being Winona’s sister’s boyfriend—Price has the fucking nerve to whisper to me, “We have this, Banks.”
I’m glaring every which way. But I don’t leave.
I help Winona to her feet. And my knees sear and roar in pain. She’s fisting my shirt like I’m the railing.
“You could’ve killed her, you troll!” Kinney is yelling at the girl who tripped Winona. Lo and Lily are speaking fast to their daughter, and Vada is being talked into staying seated by her parents.
Audrey is pointing at the tripper and speaking to her mom. Ben is in a heated argument with his dad. And the only one who’s left unrestrained isn’t even famous.
“Feel good about that viral video?” Jesse Highland, the shaggy-haired surfer boy, has entered the stairs. Camera at his side, he shouts down to the tripper. “Delete it.”
She huffs, looking uncertain. “I don’t have to do anything you say.”
“Jesse,” another camera operator snaps. “Get back here. Now.”
He doesn’t move.
The camera operator whisper-sneers, “Do you want to lose your job?”
Winona watches as Jesse considers this. “It’s okay, Jesse.” She lets go of my shirt, and with quaking arms, she clasps her mom’s hand.
Jesse reluctantly backs away, and when I turn to the pool, my pulse skips.
Swimmers are already on their blocks. But they’re watching the stands. Watching us.
Sulli saw her sister free-fall and almost face-plant.
Hell, millions of TV viewers probably saw the drama, but I’m more concerned about Sulli’s focus. Her goals.
Goggles over her eyes, I know she’s staring at me.
And I tug my ear twice.
She intakes a big breath.
We came up with signals during the Olympics—the three of us—knowing there’d be moments where we couldn’t talk.
In fucking hindsight, we should’ve made up a signal for everything’s okay.
But I default to the ear-tug.
Which simply means, I love you.
Her earlobe peeks from her swim cap. And she does a quick tug.
Now I breathe stronger, and with sore knees, I try not to limp as I resume my course to the pool. To Akara. He’s forcing himself not to shift a muscle and come to my fuckin’ rescue. I almost smile. Arms crossed, he’s gripping the hell out of his biceps.
Officials instruct ten swimmers to recommence the heat. They assume the starting position. Arms arched over the knees and about to grasp the front edge of the platform.
“Take your mark,” the starter commands, causing the stadium to fall hushed.
I reach the last few rows.
Expecting a beep next.
Instead, there’s a splash.
Everyone gasps.
My heart lurches to my throat at the sight of a false start.
17
AKARA KITSUWON
The false start is brutal, and I’m wincing.
I should pad-lock any reactions until Sulli’s heat is over. Be totally cool and emotionless like Price is hoping the head of Kitsuwon Securities will be. Like press isn’t expecting me to be. They’re waiting to spin a camera on my face so they can tether together a dramatic storyline between me and Banks and Sulli.