Page 92 of Where We Belong

“It’s fine, Fran. I’m glad you called that night, and if Lexie knew, I know she’d understand.” I smile. “This was just a small step back,” I say, hoping with everything in me that it’s not a lie. I need it to be true, especially now that I’ve had a taste of her. I’m completely hooked.

“Hm.”

“You going to see Mom and Dad later?” I ask, wanting to veer away from Lexie. She’s like my little happy secret for now, something for me and only me, and I like it that way.

“Not sure yet,” Fran says. “They don’t understand.”

She’s right. They don’t understand why she’d rather stay with a friend than come home now that she’s broken up with Cameron and why she dates someone who doesn’t love her the way she needs to be loved. I don’t either, but I’m not about to say that.

“You should,” I say. “They miss you. Even if they don’t understand.”

She nods. “Yeah, maybe I’ll pass by.”

She has no idea how happy my parents would be. Even without knowing what happened the night she called me, they do know their daughter isn’t in a good situation for her, and that kills them a little every day. It reminds me of how I felt when Lexie went to Phoenix and I had no idea if she was safe and happy. I can’t fault them for being overly protective of Francesca. I’m exactly the same with Lexie.

Another hint that this isn’t some simple crush.

Leaning forward, I take my sister’s hand and give it a squeeze. “We’ll be okay Fran, yeah?”

She squeezes me back. “We’ll be okay.”

Chapter 33

Lexie

Windblowsmysweat-ruffledhair as I walk back to the gym from Finn’s place. He might not like the place he lives in, but it sure is useful for me—it couldn’t be closer to where I spend most of my days and nights. We wouldn’t be able to spend nearly as much time together if that weren’t the case, and that would be a real shame.

Mostly, our dinner dates are the same as they were a month ago. We watch TV and talk and joke around, except that now, when we tease each other, it always ends up with him on top of me or me on top of him. And every time, I wait for the sensation of dread and horror to crawl over me, but it never does. The only thing Finn makes me feel now is pure lust and comfort. He remains careful—almost too careful—with me, which means we’ve taken things slow and haven’t actually slept together yet, although we’ve done pretty much everything else. I’d like to say he’s the one who’s the most eager to be with me, but that’d be a lie, or if it’s not, then he hides his game well. I can’t get enough of him. I want his smell to be imprinted on my skin at all times. I need his hands on me, whether it is to make me reach bliss or to comfort me after a crappy day, rubbing my back and kissing my shoulder. It’s like his presence alone is enough to center me. I count the hours until I can have the excuse to visit him for dinner, and the second I leave his place, I start missing him, which is exactly what’s happening right now.

Quite pathetic, if I’m being honest.

And what’s worse is this shouldn’t be happening, especially not now that we’re on the last stretch of the competition season and the World Championships in Anaheim are less than four months away. I’ve still got big competitions coming before then, including the US championships. My entire focus must be on gymnastics, but so much of my mind has drifted to the man with the buzz cut who makes me feel more alive than ever. It’s wonderful and frightening at the same time. I’m not sure what this thing means for him, but I know I’m falling for him, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if it ends up that he only wants to keep this a friendship.

I swallow, brushing the thought away. That’s a concern for another time. For now, I’ll keep enjoying him, and I can only hope the heartbreak that might one day happen won’t be too devastating.

As I round the corner of the street that leads to the gym, I pull out my phone to answer messages and emails. Ever since my gold medal in San Francisco, I’ve gotten thousands of new followers, which has led me to get most of my old sponsors back, and even gain some new ones. I now don’t have to worry about how I’ll pay for flights and for the next few months of rent, which has eased a huge weight off my shoulders. Since it’s mostly thanks to Shelli and Finn that I’ve gotten here, I’ve organized a few clinics for gymnasts to thank them, and apparently, the gym has been at full capacity since.

On Instagram, I find a few notifications that weren’t there yesterday. I open the picture in question, one where I’m stretching, my back arched to allow me to grab my back leg while doing the front splits. Finn took that one a few days ago, then proceeded to make me hope there weren’t any security cameras in the gym. That man is wicked.

The usual comments are there, most from younger gymnasts and fans who are encouraging, and a minority from assholes.

@franky69: Ugly bitch.

I snicker. They never get more original, do they?

But the thing that actually makes me laugh is the comment below it.

@FinnTheGreat: @franky69 Why don’t you fuck off with your sixth grader username and crawl back into the hole you came out of, yeah?

I reread it five times, finding it funnier every single time. While the comments about my body and my face used to hurt me in some way, now, with Finn’s expansive array of creative insults, I’ve come to find them entertaining.

Opening my texts app, I go to his name.

Me: You don’t have to respond to every online troll, you know?

He sees my message right away and doesn’t waste a second to answer, as if he was waiting for it.

Finn: I know. Difference is, I want to. Fuckers :)

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