“So why did you want to see me yesterday?” I slapped my thigh hard to break myself loose of the memory of Lana sitting on top of Hunter. It was all I could think about. I couldn’t sleep, eat, or function—just play that moment on repeat.
Junsu pinched his temple from his spot by the door, then shook his head, realizing I’d asked him a question. “What?”
What was wrong with him?
“I asked why you wanted to see me straight after I landed yesterday. Why you asked me to come to your office,” I repeated slowly.
“Oh. Because I had time to train Lana those days you were gone. She very good, Sailor. I worry for your chances.”
I smiled tightly. Junsu had kind of sucked at the whole-mental preparation part recently. It felt like no one around me wanted me in the Olympics. Everybody thought I’d sacrificed my life for the cause. This was the last straw.
“I’m good too. I’ll be fine.”
“A trial with a selection panel will be here the day after tomorrow.” He dropped the mother of all bombs at my feet, letting it detonate in my face. I knew it was going to happen sometime soon, but in two days?
The other two members of the Olympic team had won their spots based on their national rankings. Lana and I were competing for the individual spot on the team. The selection panel would be the deciding factor between us.
“When did you learn about this?” I shot to my feet.
“Over the weekend.” He fingered a bow that hung on his wall, the bow he had used when he won the gold medal all those years ago.
I thought about the word. Bow. I didn’t want to bow to anyone. This was why I’d mastered the instrument in the first place.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were busy in photoshoot,” he accused, letting the last word twist out of his mouth like it was made of nails and broken glass.
I wanted to scream in his face, grab his shoulders, shake him, and throw the responsibility for this mess at his door. How dare he keep this from me? I’d have stayed and practiced more had I known.
“Try next Olympics,” Junsu said softly, his voice below a whisper. His entire face crinkled, like a ball of tissue left in someone’s coat pocket the entire winter. “Five years, Sailor. You still so young.”
Oh, but my soul, I wanted to reply. It’d seen so many things. It was so old, so well worn and practiced in disappointment.
I stormed past him, my shoulder brushing his on my way out. I was a huntress, made for big, glorious things. A sailor crossing oceans, conquering foreign seas.
I was going to meet Lana and see our battle through, even if it brought me to Hades.
And if I failed, at least I’d know I tried. Fought. At least I’d know I was a Brennan.
The morning before the day of my face-off with Lana, Mom woke me up the way she had when I was a kid.
She brushed my hair away from my face, her fingers cold against my hot cheeks.
She kissed my temple, whispering into my ear, “I called you Sailor because I wanted you to see the world, to visit continents, to cross oceans and seas. In ancient times, sailors used to tattoo sparrows on their skin before leaving the docks. It brought them luck, you see. And since my name is Sparrow, I want to bring you luck. I want you to carry me everywhere in spirit. I’ll be there for you always. Only I think I failed, my brave girl. I think I failed you miserably. I hope he succeeds. I hope he knows you are so much more than beautiful. You are real.”
I blinked away the sleep, letting my eyes flutter open. The room was still dark and cold, foreign to me despite the many years I’d occupied it. It didn’t smell of Hunter and the food we’d ordered and our sweaty bodies swallowing each other up.
“He?” I croaked.
I’d given my parents direct orders not to let Hunter in. Mom stood. I felt the dip of the mattress rising with her.
“Look at your nightstand.” She brushed her fingertips against my forehead, leaving my room.
I sat up straight, rubbing the sleep off of my eyes. Sure enough, Hunter’s wooden horse necklace that brought him luck was waiting for me there—the same horse he’d believed prevented him from falling.
A rush of warmth passed through my chest. If nothing else, it was nice to know that despite sampling both of us, Hunter had the good manners to cheer on his main piece and not Lana. A note floated down from the nightstand. I picked it up.
If you want it, it is yours.
To keep. To use. To burn.
With this, you’ll never fall.
—Hunt
I smiled bitterly, allowing a tear to slide down my cheek.
“Silly boy,” I whispered. “I already have.”
The days after the tabloids exploded with pictures of me half-naked (six pack intact), I skipped work, opting to chase after Sailor to apologize for what hadn’t happened with Lana.
I mean, technically, I did go into the office, but only in the middle of the night, and only to get my hands on all the refinery documents in Syllie’s possession. The only way to access the management floor was with Cillian’s or Da’s electronic fingerprint scan. I used a gel lifter I bought from Knox to duplicate Da’s fingerprints, knowing the CCTV camera was watching me as I broke into my own company’s office. I made sure I smiled and flipped it the bird before strolling in. The pile of illegal things I was doing grew by the nanosecond, but it was too late to chicken out.
I wanted to explain to Sailor that the reason I was in the archery club in the first place had nothing to do with Lana What’s-Her-Rack. But I knew what she saw, and even I had to admit, it looked fucking bad. And after a while, I realized she wasn’t going to listen anyway.
So instead of crawling on my knees, continuing to beg for the forgiveness I knew she wouldn’t grant, I decided to give her something else, something she’d appreciate far more.
Which meant here I was in the archery club again, fucking lame stalker that I was.
I hadn’t slept a wink the past three nights, not since Sailor dumped me for good. I had been listening to recordings until my ears rang. I looked like a hot pile of baked shit as I loitered outside the archery club, waiting for her to get out of practice.
When she did, I blocked her way like a deranged ninja, jumping between two cars.
Forget the knight in shining armor. I’m the dipshit in tin foil.
“Jesus Christ!” she hissed, throwing her duffel bag at me instinctively. I caught it and tossed it aside, pulling her by the arm.
Song of the day: “Creep” by Radiohead.
“I thought I told you to leave me alone.” She drew back in the opposite direction, not missing a chance to try to scratch me with her nails.
God, I missed her.
“I will, but not before you listen to this.” I took my phone out of my pocket and shoved one of my AirPods into my ear and the other into hers, scrolling my thumb on my touch screen to find what I was looking for.
“Gross. I don’t need your earwax in my system.”
“I put worse things in you, and you didn’t seem all that disgusted.” I bared my teeth tauntingly.
She was about to take the AirPod out and throw it in my face, but I grabbed her hand, kissing her palm again, as I did when she tried to hurt me (which, let’s admit it, was frequently).