Page 133 of The Long Game
His best, as it turned out, was a fraction of a second too slow. Shane was declared the winner.
But, for real, it was basically a tie. So whatever.
Shane didn’t act like it was a tie. He flashed Ilya a smug little smile, as if Ilya even gave a shit about this thing.
“Congratulations,” Ilya said when Shane had stopped celebrating. “You are like one thousandth of a second faster than me. In this one race.”
“I won. That’s all that matters.”
Ilya wanted to say something obnoxious about how all of Shane’s food restrictions and self-sacrifice translated to exactly point one three seconds’ worth of athletic supremacy, but he decided to let Shane enjoy his victory instead.
Besides, winning stuff always made Shane horny, so Ilya considered himself the real winner.
Unfortunately, they had to watch Dallas Kent win the shot accuracy competition next, which was a real boner killer. Except the way Shane was huffing angrily beside Ilya was kind of hot.
“I fucking hate him,” Shane said.
“Yes.”
“I want to... I don’t know. I want him to be punished.”
“That would be nice,” Ilya agreed.
Shane glanced up to the box where Commissioner Crowell was sitting. “I wishhe’ddo something.”
Ilya snorted, then realized he hadn’t told Shane the latest thing he’d heard about Crowell. “He will not help. He called Troy, a few days ago, and told him to stop posting about sexual assault on his Instagram.”
Shane’s head whipped around to face Ilya. “What? Wasn’t Troy just posting about, like, where victims could seek help? And about charities people could donate to?”
Ilya nodded. “Only helpful things, yes.”
“Why the fuck would Crowell want him to stop?”
Ilya nodded in the direction of Dallas Kent. “I think because it hurts Kent’s feelings.”
Shane’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Or because it makes the league look bad.”
Shane scoffed. “Probably.”
At that moment, Kent skated by them. Ilya glared at him, and he was sure Shane was doing the same.
“I meant to tell you,” Shane said, once Kent was out of earshot, “I was impressed with what Troy was doing.”
“Did you forget to tell me, or did you not tell me because you still hate him?”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Hm.”
“I’m glad you’re friends, or whatever,” Shane grumbled.
“I will tell him you said that,” Ilya said, “next time we are showering together.”
Shane elbowed him in the arm. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch this.”
“They are setting up pylons. Is that what you want to watch?”
