“I got you something,” he chanted, alcohol stinking up his breath. He reached for something in his back pocket and presented me a flask. “Happy five gold medals, my favorite twin.”
He pulled me in for a half hug and kissed the top of my head. I opened the flask, sniffed, and shuddered. It smelled awful, very much like Liam, but hey, I wanted to enjoy the fantasy. I would celebrate with all the alcohol I had been “strongly discouraged” from drinking for the past few months. I tossed the encouragement fuel back, and it tasted as awful as it smelled.
“Jesus, what is this?” I said choking. “Rubbing alcohol?”
He chuckled. “No, it’s sake. Drink it. Catch up. Get on my level so the Hughes twins can take Tokyo.”
Liam and I never got drunk with each other, except for the time he flew out to San Francisco to celebrate our twenty-first birthday. That night had been a blast. We’d gotten drunk together for the first time…and really the only time. Sure, we’d had a few beers and wine during the holidays, but most of the time, I was training or didn’t feel like swimming off my hangover the next morning. I thought back to how much fun it had been on our twenty-first birthday, exploring the city, taking him to my favorite bars, and how the night consisted of us laughing, making fun of each other, being each other’s wingmen, and saying how much we loved and missed each other.
I wanted another night like that one. I really missed my brother.
Sometimes. Most of the time.
I hadn’t had a drink in months. I hadn’t been drunk in…well…a year? Maybe longer? I’d lost track. But now that my brutal training had earned me five beautiful medals, all the alcohol was at my fingertips. We barhopped as if it was our twenty-first birthday. Liam flirted too hard with my teammates, and the only one who fell into his charming trap was Talia, much to my surprise. Gorgeous Talia, who could have had the South African IM-er, the Spanish diver, or the two Italian rowers, but for whatever reason, she decided to flirt with Liam. I mean, he’d aged well, sure, but if Talia wanted ripped bodies and muscles, Liam couldn’t match Olympian standards. He was just my twin who worked out a few times a week but spent more time on cardio than weights. And sure, he had a good smile and charm, but…he was Liam. I had no idea how he consistently got beautiful women or how his idea of flirting like a seventeen-year-old got six-time Olympic gold medalist Talia Papani to pay attention to him.
The Olympian diet hadn’t prepared me for barhopping. We were lightweights wanting to buy out all the alcohol. As I was about to order a beer at the third bar, Talia pulled me into the bathroom and asked if she could hook up with my brother. I noticed the glaze in her eyes, her flushed cheeks, and an extra spring in her tone. The girl was happy and drunk…just like the rest of us.
“Really? Liam over the South African diver?” I said and heard the slurring in my own voice.
She waved off my comment. “I haven’t seen Rosco tonight, and he has my number so…he snoozes, he loses.”
“You sure you want to settle for Liam?”
“Ugh, I know he’s your brother, and my asking you this is totally weird, but he’s got a cute smile and he’s really funny—”
I raised my hand. “Tal, if you want to hook up with my brother, then do it. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Share zero details with me. Nada. You can either give me a thumbs up that it happened or a thumbs down, but save all the details for Lillian and never tell me.”
She saluted. “Yes, boss.”
The bar was crowded with swimmers. The Australians. The Swedish. The Japanese. I lost Talia and Liam to the corner where they made out like two drunk twentysomethings who hadn’t gotten laid in a long time. I could either continue chatting with the guys and check out women with them, or I could throw myself out there and have as much fun as Talia and Liam. It’d been so long. I wanted something meaningless. And I didn’t want to have to wait for it. The alcohol and the success of my week pumped more confidence in me as I whipped my phone out and noticed I still had zero texts from Kennedy, despite it being a normal time of the morning back home.
So I typed in the name of my distraction.
Where are the Hungarians drinking tonight? I think we should run into each other since we’ve been doing that a lot this week.
Amira was quick to respond. The Hungarians are looking for the Americans. Or at least, one Hungarian is.
I responded. I’m not giving you your gold medals back if that’s what you want.
You’re so conceited. I think I need to put you in your place.
And where is that exactly?
Twenty minutes later, Team Hungary walked through the doors, and my jaw plummeted. All that confidence I’d exerted throughout the night? Yup, completely drained right out of me when Amira strutted in, showing me how a million universes out of my league she was. She wore a white cocktail dress that perfectly sculpted her body and stopped halfway between her waist and knees, rounding out her toned butt and contrasting with her summer tan. The dress was so tight that her abs created faint outlines in the fabric. I’d only ever seen her in a competitive swimsuit or warm-ups…or that one time I saw her naked. Seeing her dressed for the real world made her a beautiful stranger.
Her gaze never flinched as she sauntered over as if she’d come with one mission. I could see determination darkening her smoky eyes, and she did something right because she didn’t have to walk the whole length of the bar to reach me. I floated over to her as if under hypnosis.
“And I thought you looked good in a Fastskin,” I said over the loud music. “God damn.”
“Oh, you mean this?” She twirled like the brat she was. And her wavy hair fell perfectly into place. It needed to stop looking perfect. I could help with that. “I rolled out of bed. And you make Americans look good. I never thought I would say that, but I guess there’s an exception to everything, right?”
I put my hands on my chest. “That is the best compliment anyone has ever given me.”
“I know. I’m quite the charmer.”
I leaned into her ear, and the corners of her dark red lips pulled into a smirk. She had perfume that smelled like pure elegance, and it made me want to pull her hair back to nibble at the smooth column of her neck. “The real question is: When are we going to consummate this Quamira thing? I feel like we should give the internet what they want.”
When I pulled back to see her reaction, her wide eyes told me she hadn’t expected that. And I guess I hadn’t either, but I liked the surprise and thrill of anticipation roiling in my stomach as I waited for her answer.
“We can make it happen right now if you want.”
I slipped my fingers into hers. “Let’s go.”
It was a hookup waiting to happen…again. There was sexual tension and hateful tension all balled into one. All those tensions needed to be released, and we finally made Quamira official in her apartment. It was closer than mine, and after taming ourselves for a whole week, we couldn’t wait the extra quarter mile walk to mine.
It was even better than our adventure the summer before.
My flight back to the States was on Tuesday, so that meant I had three days to sightsee with my family, catch a few Olympic events like track and field, soccer, and diving…while squeezing in a few steamy sessions with Amira.