Page 94 of Breaking Away

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DMITRI

The game ends.

Hughes pulls me to the side. “You good?”

No, I am not.

We won. I played better than I ever have, pushing this new offensive defense strategy, pushing the limits of my knee…crossing it…

Coach is ecstatic.

I’m in agony, but my face does not move.

The permanent smirk Hughes wears is gone. “Something is going on with you. What is it?”

Before he can push for an answer, Forrester thumps my shoulder. “Keep playing like this, Lokhov.”

My molars hurt from grinding. I can only nod.

The rest of the team crowds us. Someone pulls Hughes away, so I’m free of him, but every time my knee is jostled, I want to scream.

I stink so I shower. I know Kavi is waiting upstairs in the box for me. She’s wearing my jersey.

Raw, chest-thumping satisfaction floods my body as I imagine her in it. She has my number on her. Mine. A wave of primal possessiveness threatens to knock me over.

My chest rises and falls with each breath. Fuck, I’m suffering. I want her in my arms, sitting on my lap. I want to hold her, squeeze her, and rock back and forth as I whisper rough and dirty praises in her ear.

I’m so fucking proud of you. Tell me how to show you. Tell me I can.

Do you know how great you are? How incredible? How inspiring?

I want it so badly my bones ache, and not just because she has my number on her back.

It’s way more dangerous than that.

From the moment she came in with her camera, I was disgustingly proud. And when she took that step of courage and brought the lens to her face and started clicking, when she keyed into her own special mode of seeing the world around her, waiting and hunting for the shot?—

I could see.

She fucking shone.

This is what she’s meant to do.

She did it. She believed in herself.

And now I’ve promised her a barbecue.

It can’t be tonight. I can’t be around anyone. I’m barely holding it together. No way I’ll last an evening of pretending that I’m good. Everyone, including her, will learn about my knee.

Don’t let anyone in, son. Execute the same, no matter what. No distractions.

I towel off, trying not to move my knee. It’s swelling, so I tape it up before anyone can see. Putting on clothes again isdifficult.A faint sheen of sweat covers my forehead. My breathing is loud.

I have to sit down and close my eyes.

Get over it. Move. This is nothing.

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