“A little bit. Haven’t really had time to rest since I’ve gotten back. I have all these interviews.”
“I saw you on The Today Show this morning.”
That perked me up. That meant she saw me deny any claims that Amira and I were a thing.
“Oh yeah? And I just finished The Tonight Show taping.”
Her eyes enlarged. “Wow. That’s pretty big.”
“It was terrifying. All the interviews are terrifying. I have to do this photoshoot on Friday that I’m absolutely dreading.”
She let out a modest chuckle. “Why?
“I don’t know how to pose. I’m not a model.”
“They’ll tell you what they want from you.”
I sighed. “Where are the roommates?”
“Out at the bar. They wanted to give us time alone.”
Oh great. What did they know?
Apparently, it was enough to scare them out to a bar.
“Oh, I got you something.” She went into the small kitchen and came back with a newspaper and plopped it on my lap. It was the front page of the sports section of The New York Times, and there, taking up the majority of space above the fold, was a picture of me on the medal podium after my 800-free, a gold medal around my neck with the headline, “Quinn Hughes Earns Fifth Gold, Becomes Most Decorated Athlete at Tokyo Games.”
“I thought I’d save you a copy,” she said softly. “It’s not every day you’re on the front page of The New York Times sports section or the most decorated athlete at a Summer Olympics.”
The butterflies awoke in my stomach. I closed my eyes, latching on to this moment that had to mean something. The fact she saved the newspaper meant something to me. It meant she still cared.
“Thank you,” I said and stared at the paper for a moment. “But I have to ask you a question.” When I glanced up, I noticed the shaking in my hands from the ends of the newspaper moving. I dropped it on my lap so it wouldn’t give any indication as to how nervous I was for this conversation. “This was after my 800-free.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Four days after I last heard from you. Why did you stop texting?”
Her eyes rounded as if I’d caught her in the act. “I, um, I was busy, Quinn. Grad school and—”
“Don’t lie to me, Ken. Come on.” Anger simmered in me. Did she really just try using her classes as an excuse? Did she think I was going to buy that?
She started playing with her fingers, and as the air thickened in the room, I downed the rest of my wine. The hesitant silence really got to me. I looked at her after setting my glass on her coffee table. She still stared at her hands. She was allowing the air to congeal and heat the more she sat there with nothing. I was too drained to play this game. Either we figured out what the hell was going on, or I would leave, and we would never have any closure.
“Kennedy?” I pressed. “What did I do? What’s going on? Why did you ghost me?”
I noticed her swallow and her jaw clench. “Did you sleep with her?” she asked.
“What?”
“Did you sleep with her? The Hungarian swimmer?”
She asked so quietly, I feared this whole conversation would be her talking in that decibel, causing my crankiness to seem more severe than it was. And the fact that she asked about Amira—confirming that all of this was because of something as insignificant as that—heated up my anger to a boil.
“Amira? Why does it matter?”
“Because it matters,” she said flatly.
I sat there, pinned to my spot. My mouth opened and closed, picking up and discarding all the responses running to the front. I had to choose my words carefully, even though my mental filter was drained by how tired I was…of everything.
“That’s not answering the question,” I said. “Actually, it has nothing to do with my question. Why did you ghost me?”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Kennedy, answer the question!”
My voice seemed to take her aback; her mouth parted, and she rapidly blinked as she studied me. I wanted to apologize since I didn’t mean for it to rise that assertively, but I couldn’t say any words with her silence choking me. My throat closed around the apology.
“I…” she began, hesitated and then tried again. “I wanted to leave you alone.”
“What does that even mean?”
“The whole world was shipping you two. One day we’re texting, the next morning, any coverage about you is also about her and how they want you two to date because you’re both gay swimmers, and it was…too much. They weren’t rooting for us to be together. They were rooting for you two. It broke my heart.”
Her voice rattled, and she wiped her eyes before sniffing back another round. A dull ache tugged in my chest as I pictured her getting lost in the media storm that magnified all the littlest things that came from the games, my relationship with Amira being one of them. Clearly, by how scared she was telling me the truth, how it made her cry and act so insecure, she actually thought Amira was a better catch than her. As if Amira erased all the history Kennedy and I had. It irritated me that she actually questioned her worth. If only she knew how hard it had been trying to forget about what happened or how many nights I’d spent since high school hoping and wishing we’d find a way to beat all odds and be together again.
But clearly, she had no idea.
“That’s why you ignored me?” I said, and now I was irritated at myself for not masking my frustrations better. “Because of some stupid speculation?”
“Well, was it speculation?”
“Why does it matter, Ken? I’m single, and some silly speculation over something as little as a hook-up shouldn’t warrant being ghosted. That’s not even fair.”
“So you fuck your competition but not me?”
“You ghosted me out of nowhere. You spend the first few days telling me how much you missed me? How beautiful I am? How you were thinking of me? And then, bam, silence until literally last night? You don’t get to do that and then also be upset about me being single and having fun. I didn’t do anything wrong. We aren’t together.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Quinn. I think I know that.”
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and pounded back the rest of her wine as if it was hard liquor. Then she got off the couch, snatched up her glass, and headed into the kitchen where I heard her pour herself more. I buried my face in shaky hands, wishing I could get more wine and wishing that Kennedy realized she was the exact opposite of Amira. I was so delicate with Kennedy because she meant everything to me.
“Kennedy, please come back,” I pleaded and inhaled a deep sigh.
It took her a few moments, as if she needed an extra second to collect herself and brace for the rest of the dreaded conversation. When she came back, I pulled my face from my hands and watched her set her glass on the coffee table, tuck her knees into her chest, and stare at nothing. While the deafening silence hung heavy in the air, I familiarized myself with breathing techniques I’d learned in yoga and mental training exercises to put anxiety and negative emotions at bay until one of us knew what to say.
When I checked on her, at our sudden eye contact, she flitted her focus back to her knees.