Chapter 9: Marathon Eve

Mike

It was really stupid. I sleep alone at home—our families may be amazingly supportive of our relationship, but it’s not like Dana or Teri can spend the night. An empty bed is expected. It’s situation normal. Nothing new.

And yet that big hotel bed felt awfully lonely. It was a long, long night.

I would have to figure out how to sleep better before the race.

Anyway, at way too early o’clock for a Friday I was completely awake, with no chance of falling asleep again. I’d forgotten to close the blackout curtains last night, which meant the late-May sun was entirely too cheerful about flooding my room. I figured I could either lay there grumping about it all or get some language practice in. And guess what—I made my wisdom roll.

After a unit of advanced Japanese, kanji drills, and a chapter of Mahoka Koko no Rettosei (a.k.a. Irregular Student at the Magic High School a.k.a. stupid cheesy fun), I did some French review. Caught a guy in Lyon for practice, in return for his practicing English—he was okay to talk with, but not very interesting. I was also due for a German refresher, but that could wait till after breakfast.

Mmm, breakfast. My stomach gurgled at the thought.

My room wasn’t one of the specifically wheelchair-accessible rooms, but it did have a walk-in shower and a shower stool. Took a couple extra towels to get my butt and chair dry but that’s situation normal, too. Dad checked in mid-clean-up but I waved him off and got dressed by my lonesome.

Okay, yeah, I may have something to prove about being able to care for myself without live-in assistance. Just maybe.

This morning, a high protein breakfast. Not training levels, but higher than non-athletes. Tonight and tomorrow, it would be time to carb up—the organizers were throwing us racers a spaghetti dinner, all-you-can-eat buffet.

We ate at a table next to Amber’s family. Not a coincidence: there are only so many places in the hotel restaurant that are readily set up for wheelchair customers. Except for brief nods, they ignored us—well, Amber flashed me a quick smile when her family couldn’t see, as she passed on her way to the buffet for more eggs. It was Helen, actually, who broke the ice—just like Dana would.

I gave myself a mental forehead slap—of course, like her daughter.

Her hook was, of course, politely confirming that Amber, like me, was racing tomorrow—then checking start times—and comparing training notes—and soon the adults were talking, well, I won’t say easily, but not like stuffed suits with sticks up their asses. Not that the latter would ever describe Helen.

The two women were introduced as Amber’s mother and aunt. This did not make the family situation any less murky.

As we all left the restaurant, Amber and I trailed the others. At the edge of the lobby, she spun to look at me. I raised an eyebrow.

“You’re from Elkton? Do you know Brianna Taylor?”

“Yeah—friend of my girlfriend, Dana. They’re partners in this worksho—”

She broke in incredulously, “Dana Partlow? You’re dating Dana Partlow?!”

“Uh, yeah?” I said faintly. It was like she was fangirling. My girlfriend has fangirls?

“OMG! Tianna was in their Program Escorts workshop in Grand Junction in March—said they were totally awesome. Oh my gosh I have to tell her!” Then she stopped short. “Except—Tianna said Dana has a girlfriend.”

“She does, ” I agreed carefully. “Dana, Teri, and I, we... ” I trailed off, then touched my left earlobe, where two small gems sparkled, red and green—gifts from my girlfriends when we started going out. “We’re together.”

Amber’s eyes went wide, but not as wide as they could have. “You’re not LDS, are you?” Polygamy and polyamory being touchy issues among Mormons.

“Nope, none of us. Teri’s Catholic and Dana’s Quaker.”

“Okay then, ” Amber said, collecting herself. “Um, can I, ah, get a selfie with you?” Still wary.

Okay then, indeed. “Sure.”

She was wary enough, she didn’t lean in completely close. And as soon as she’d sent it to me, she rolled off to ... send it Tianna in privacy? Or just get away from me?

Until then, it had been kinda cute and a little disorienting. One girlfriend is a bestselling author, the other a high-school celebrity. Good thing I have no insecurities.

Dude, that’s a joke.

It’s one I can make, though, because honestly, it’s really cool seeing the world acknowledge what I already know, that my girlfriends are awesome. Assuming they still want to be with me, now that they’re—

No, stop that, I told myself. Hard. They love me, they want me, they want to be with me. I just had to make myself be as good for them as they are for me. As good as them. Which meant I had my work cut out for me.

Especially when I was feeling a little like a pariah.

I was hanging in the lobby, waiting for Rashaun, when Teri texted, three days till i get to kiss your sweet pussy and hard dick again. No, not texting—that was sexting. My cock went from spongy to iron in 2.3 seconds flat. If I wasn’t in public, I’d’ve sexted right back. At least Amber wasn’t there.

Wait—why would Amber being near bother me more than anyone else?

Dana replied before I could: Going dark for the workshop, talk later??

I quickly shot off, D: Good luck workshopping and then, T: Good luck frustrating

Teri replied, some of these cosplayers? lots of fantasy fodder

Any science fiction fodder?

She sent back a pic of a pretty handsome young Han Solo—better looking than Harrison Ford, I thought. Had the cocky smile down pat, anyway.

I gave it a thumbs up and, That counts

Though wait a sec—didn’t the con start later this afternoon? Well, maybe guests-n-pros get in early, to set up. Or possibly—

“Heyyyy—Mike, my man!”

I grinned up at Rashaun and clasped his hand. Dang, he looked good—smile as broad as ever, white gemstone in his left ear larger than before, his locs a little shorter. He’d been training, too, and it showed. Nope, my erection wasn’t going down right away. “Hey, yourself—looking good.”

“So do you. Got some muscles there, now.” He lightly backhanded me on my upper chest.

“Pft! That’s just how I roll.”

He laughed, as did the girl next to him—the one I’d failed to notice, even though she was almost as hot as him.

“Mike, this is Linda Chen. Linda, Mike Smith, down from Elkton to eff-up the U18 para-racers.”

She smiled and shook my hand. “Heard a lot about you.” Almost as hot, did I say? At least as. Especially with that husky voice. She was tall, as tall as Rashaun, and probably a runner with that build. Even had the long black ponytail. Alert, alert, full-on babe alert.

“Unsubstantiated rumors, I assure you. Besides, the paparazzo deserved it.”

Wonder of wonders, she actually laughed. So did Rashaun, but I knew he had an excellent sense of humor. They laughed well together. And looked good together.

Uh oh.

I nodded up to her. “Are you...?”

Rashaun put his arm around her waist, and she reciprocated. Damn. “Yup—since March, ” he said.

Double damn. If anything, my erection twitched harder. I covered by rolling my eyes. “Like that wasn’t obvious. I mean, you racing tomorrow, Linda?”

“You bet, ” she said with a grin. “I do cross-country during the season, but I like the longer distances. This is my second full marathon.”

“What a coincidence, ” I said with a slow smile—though inside, I was cringing. “Mine too.”

We chatted through the usual demographic intel. She was, like Rashaun, a freshman at CU-Boulder, but I promptly forgot the details. I was—well, hell, it wasn’t like I was going to hook up with Rashaun again this year, no matter how hot he was. Especially after that goodbye with Teri and Dana two nights ago. But I was still, I don’t know, hurt and confused and I don’t know what else I was feeling—finding out that he was with a legit babe.

(I did manage some half-way-not-braindead questions about campus—with its translator/interpreter program, Boulder is definitely on my short-list of colleges to apply to next year.)

Not that I was jealous that he was with a legit babe. I mean, yeah, I know most people won’t call Teri beautiful—her nose and chin are too strong to be conventionally pretty, and her body type is weightlifter, not runway model. Dana is pretty enough, not to mention has ridiculous boobs for a frame so petite, but she also isn’t anyone else’s ideal beauty. They are beautiful to me—because I adore them.

No, I admitted to myself, I was just plain jealous Rashaun was with someone this year.

And that was just plain stupid.

Stupid enough, the noise in the lobby was starting to really bug me.

Rashaun looked around. “Hey, you in this hotel?”

“Right down that hall.”

“Rooming with your Dad again?”

“Nope—he’s shacking up with his girlfriend nextdoor.” I firmly pushed all associated feelings about that back in the lock-box.