“I just saw you swim. Congratulations. It was incredible. Amazing, really.”
“Thanks.” I don’t know why I did it, but I leaned against the wall, planting my hand over her shoulder. She backed up and her blue eyes widened.
“I take it you’re a swim fan?” I asked. I always enjoyed talking swim.
“I’m covering it. Covering you. I mean, the sport. I’m here covering the trials.” She dropped her eyes to the floor. “Shit,” she whispered.
I felt a sudden jolt of disappointment. She wasn’t a fan. She was a reporter. I didn’t like to talk to the press. I thought about making an exception for this pretty girl, though.
“Ahh, one of the American reporters.” Those blokes were as bad as mozzies hanging around the place, but she seemed harmless.
“Actually, not anymore.”
I cocked my head to the side. “What do you mean by that, love?”
“You don’t want to hear my stupid sad story. I’m sorry. You’re probably celebrating with friends. This is a huge night for you. I’ll let you get back to your group.”
I looked over my shoulder. “No one there. I’m all ears.”
“You’re here alone?” I could tell she didn’t believe me.
“All alone.” I leaned in closer. It wasn’t entirely true. I rarely went anywhere when I wasn’t swarmed by fans.
I never had to pay for another drink for the rest of my life if I didn’t want to.
She wiped at her cheeks and that was when I noticed they glistened. She had been crying when I bumped into her. Shit.
“I’m at a disadvantage. You know who I am. I think it’s only fair you tell me your name.”
“Ava. Ava Gold.”
“Are you here with someone, Ava Gold?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. I traveled by myself for work.”
I felt good. The kind of good after a victory. It wasn’t a small victory. I had just set a world record in the 200-meter freestyle and butterfly. It was an incredible rush. My body surged with powerful adrenaline. I felt like a fucking rock star. And I needed an outlet for all the energy coursing through me.
Over my shoulder was a crowd of rowdy fans who wanted to celebrate with me. But in front of me was a stranger. A beautiful, sexy woman with tears in her eyes and all alone in my country.
“If we keep walking through that door, it’ll take us out the back and no one will know we left.” I smiled, brushing an auburn curl from her forehead.
“And?”
“And I think we both know where things could go from there.”
“You’re serious?”
“Love, I just set the fucking world record in two different strokes. I couldn’t be more serious.”
“Well, I just lost my job. So I don’t know that this is the best time to… to start something.” She had a funny way with her expressions. I liked it. I liked how the words sounded on her tongue.
“Sorry to hear about your job. Want to talk about it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I ran a finger along her arm, taking my time to trace the skin from her shoulder and across her bicep, and linger at her wrist. She shivered under my touch.
“Why don’t you tell me about your night and I’ll tell you about mine?” I suggested.