Of the American men, he was predicted to have the best chance at the all-around-he was second at Worlds-but he fell off the pommel horse and stepped out of bounds on the floor exercise. “Get your head in the game,” his coach had said, holding him by the face. “Focus up.” His teammate, the new silver medalist, had been brilliant on the high bar, better than ever before in his life, and excellent on the floor and solid through the other rotations. He was on all the late-night talk shows, cool in front of the cameras, making little jokes. In the event finals, he picked up another silver and a bronze. “Did you know he was gay?” the hurdler asks, curling one long arm up over her head and tapping a gold fingernail against the wall. Her bicep stands up, so distinct he can see exactly where the muscle attaches to the bone. “I think he might like his limelight to be no-hassle.”Ī prolonged groan vibrates through the wall, and the hurdler makes a round-mouthed face of astonishment. Stronger.” They giggle and look at the ceiling to avoid each other’s eyes. If they could only lie quietly and make small talk like most first-time lovers, everything would be fine, but the other couple’s sounds remind them of their recent sex and embarrass them. They have left the lights on because why not? They have nothing to show but perfection. She is utterly hairless, long-limbed, flat and tight in the belly, pale across her breasts and pelvis with stark tan lines from her speed suit.
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