Kiss and Cry

The Canadian team members were clustered ahead in their red uniforms with white trim. They had to know they’d probably only get bronze, so they were having fun because why the hell not. My gaze immediately found Henry, but he wasn’t laughing and chattering.

Was he upset that I’d beat him? Maybe it was dumb given it was literally my job to beat him and everyone else, but I wanted to apologize. I wanted to hug him. I just wanted to be near him.

You know who was near him?

Adrenaline spiked as I spotted Anton in the group. The group that Henry lingered on the edges of even though he was the one who’d just skated. Who the fuck did Anton think he was? He wasn’t even part of Canada’s top pair and wasn’t competing in the team event. Sure, he and Hannah were allowed to sit with the team in the box and cheer, but Anton had to know his presence upset Henry.

It was almost an out-of-body experience as I followed at a distance as the group headed out, Henry walking quickly with his small, wheeled suitcase holding his costume and equipment.

I was still in my costume, and I couldn’t exactly go clomping back to the Village in my skates, but I got lucky as Anton stopped to tap his phone. The rest of them disappeared around a bend in the concrete tunnel. There was no one else around for the moment.

I’d never been in a fight aside from a playground shoving match over who was next on the swings, but the urge to grab Anton’s shirt and slam him into the wall exploded messily.

When he noticed me coming, he smiled for a second before a frown took over. “What’s up. You okay?” I guessed I was projecting my fury, because he backed away a step even though he was bigger than me.

I resisted the wall slam, but barely. “What happened with you and Henry? What did you do?”

Anton seriously went a shade paler, and he was pretty white to begin with. He shook his head. “No, man. I’m not talking about that.”

“What did you do?”

I gritted my teeth so hard they hurt. I wanted to shake the truth out of him. This felt like the missing piece to figuring out all of Henry. I’d learned so much these past few months, and I needed more. I needed to understand. He wouldn’t tell me and, even if it was technically none of my business, if Anton had hurt him—and he had, there was no other explanation—I had to fix it.

Anton shook his head again. “I can’t tell you. Like, no way. It’s not my place. What do you care anyway?”

I ignored the question. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Did you ask him?”

“He won’t tell me. When he sees you, he gets this look on his face. Like he’s afraid. I swear to God, if you hurt him…”

Anton glanced around, but we were still alone. “I didn’t—it’s not what you think.”

“What do I think?”

“I don’t know! Look, man—you have to ask him. I’m really sorry for what happened.” He backed up another step. “If I could change it, I would.”

I hissed, “Stop! Tell me.” I kept thinking about those little flashes of fear on Henry’s face. How vulnerable he could be when everyone mistook it for coldness. I had to help, and I couldn’t unless I knew what the fuck Anton did.

“You have to ask Henry!” Anton looked around guiltily again.

“He won’t tell me. He wouldn’t even let me kiss him at first.” Shit, I hadn’t meant to say that part out loud.

Anton’s eyes widened. “It’s true? You and Henry are banging? Wow.” He ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Look, I know he can’t stand to be around me, but I don’t know what to do. It’s been years.”

“Since what?” I wished I could loom intimidatingly or something. “Did you guys hook up? What did you do to him?”

Shoulders slumping, Anton glanced around and whispered, “We didn’t hook up. I’m not into guys. Hannah and I are together now, but we’re not public because fans get so weird and nosy.”

He wasn’t wrong about that—fans could be freaky about skaters and who they dated. I nodded impatiently. “And?”

“It was when Henry still trained in Vancouver about three or four years ago. He was the way he is. You know, shy and quiet. Always so serious and particular. We had to share the locker room with a hockey team that practiced at our arena. Just a local league, nothing hardcore. They were mostly university age and more into partying than anything else. Henry couldn’t stand those guys—although there was one he was hot for.”

“How do you know?”

Anton scoffed. “People think he’s a robot, but once you can read him, he’s not. You must know that. I mean, he may not be telling you what’s really going on, but it’s pretty obvious when he’s upset or mad or hot for someone. Like, we all guessed he was into you after Skate Canada in October but never figured you’d like him back.”