Page 28 of Kiss Me

Even when we’re out of sight of my assistant and the others, he doesn’t let go of me.

“There you go,” he almost coos.

Damn, the way I want to wrap myself in his voice like a warm blanket.

No, Tania,I remind myself.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, finally pushing away from him once we reach the road that splits off in two directions that lead to the cabins on one end and hotel-style suites on the other side.

“I thought you needed my help.” He holds up the crutch in his left hand. “The armpit area can get sore if you spend too much time leaning on these things. I remember when I was fifteen, I had a broken leg. Crutches are helpful but they can be a bitch.”

I scowl at him. “You know more than anyone I don’t need that damn crutch,” I whisper forcefully at him before peering over my shoulder just to ensure that we’re still alone.

“Yes, which brings me back to my thought before we were interrupted by your assistant.”

I start to tell him once again that it’s not his place to tell my assistant what to do but he’s quicker than I am.

“I wonder what would make a world-class athlete like yourself lie to children.”

His words are like a slap to the face.

“Wh-What?”

He nods behind me, indicating the space we just left. “Eve and Stasi are fans of yours and are super excited to see you at the X Games. It reminds me of seeing you in Colorado when I witnessed a horde of young girls yelling your name and begging for your autograph.”

“When did you see me in Colorado?”

“And it makes me wonder,” he continues, paying no attention to my question, “why would someone with that type of admiration lie to her fans?”

The pit of guilt in my stomach I’ve been feeling since I made my decision to exacerbate my ankle injury begins to grow. It’s like a black hole threatening to swallow me up.

The guilt is so overwhelming that it chokes me, preventing words from coming out. Thus, instead of answering, I brush past Taehyun, intentionally bumping his shoulder with mine as I start back in the direction of my suite.

“The hell …” he growls behind me before running to get in my way.

“Move,” I tell him forcefully.

“Make me.”

“Asshole,” I throw at him and try to step around his body.

He sidesteps, getting in my way. It crosses my mind to either push him or punch him. But I hold back only because, deep down, I know the person I’m truly frustrated with the most is myself.

His question brings back to mind not only Eve and Stasi’s questions and excitement about seeing me at the X Games, but also all of the young girls I’ve come across in the past few months seeking autographs.

The little Black and Brown girls whose parents just bought them their first snowboard because they saw me on their television screen catching air off of the backside of a ramp.

The one little girl in the shopping mall who stopped me to tell me she had my poster hanging on her bedroom wall.

“It’s the only poster my mom let me hang in my room,”she told me with a smile a mile wide on her cute little face.

“I said get out of my way!” I tell Taehyun furiously while blinking to keep the stupid tears that threaten to fall at bay.

“If you think a little shoving and yelling is going to get me to back off, you haven’t learned shit about me yet,” he says as forcefully as my comment.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I explode, allowing my anger to erupt. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. Who are you to tell me I should be ashamed in front of those girls? It’s none of your damn business what I do.”

With that declaration, I shove him. And it’s none too gentle. I’m a professional athlete who spends six days a week training, four of which have me in the gym lifting weights men twice my size would complain about.

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