Page 8 of Wristlocked
“At the Christmas showcase.” I meet his eyes and watch the memory break to the surface.
“The stupid green mohawk. Jesus, I was so jealous.”
“Of the mohawk?” I gape at him, almost laughing in spite of everything.
“Fuck no.” He shakes his head. “Of the showcase. I saw his act, and I knew I was better than him. Couldn’t believe I had to wait three more years to be up on that stage.”
“You did talk a lot of shit for weeks afterward. It was the first time I heard you talk seriously about ACCA. Or be so hard on another performer.”
“Andyounever said a word about him.” He slants his eyes at me, serious again.
“Because I didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t want to—” I stop, taking a breath.
“Hurt me,” he says flatly.
“Maybe. Or argue about it.”
“But you, what, fell for him that night?”
“No, nothing like that.”Maybe a little.“Hehadsomething. Something I wanted.”
“What was it?”
“Passion. Rage.”Pain.
Lyot barks a short, humorless laugh. “You’re the angriest person I know, Gia.”
“I know. You’re right. But my anger wasatmy art. His was a part of it.” The sun beats down on our silence for a long moment.
“He’s the reason you started seriously training straps.” It’s not a question.
“Yes. Mostly.”
His hunched shoulders and the muscle that tics in his jaw scream betrayal, but I won’t take it back. I’ll give him this pieceof truth and drink his pain. If it makes me hate myself a little, at least I’m giving him the choice to bail or bear it. “You know, I’ve never heard you admit to being jealous of anyone before,” I muse. “You’re always so sure of your place; it’s never bothered you to share. Not in the gym, not with me.”
He gives me a sideways look I can’t decipher.
“What is it about Gale that’s so…”Threateningseems like too dangerous a word to hit him with right now. “Important to you? It doesn’t sound like I’m the only one he made an impact on that night. Is he the reasonyoudecided to come here?”
“No.” Short and definite. And then, “Maybe partly.” He gives me a rueful smile. “But back then, I didn’t know what a total dick he was.”
“We can’t avoid him. He’s in our specialty program.”
“And you don’t want to anyway. You want tolearnfrom him.” His mouth twists on the word, but I don’t argue. There are layers here that only my monster understands and I am not yet ready to uncover.
“And you want to kick his ass.” I try to force some playfulness into my tone, but this, too, cuts a little close to the bone.
“Let’s make a deal. We’ll…just keep it in the gym, okay?” God, he sounds so vulnerable. My wicked heart cracks a little further.
“Deal. Still best friends?”
“Always.” No hesitation, but his exhale is a long shudder. I lie back on the concrete, closing my eyes against the ruthless sky and the fragile weight of almost-trust between us. He stands, holding out his hand. “Let’s get you out of the sun.”
We start back toward the gym, sticking to the shade of the covered walkways along the buildings. I let him keep holding my hand, slick with our combined sweat.
“He is pretty hot, though,” I say after a while, sneaking a sideways glance at him.
“Sure.” He shakes his head, snorting softly. “Goddam lip ring.”
