Chapter 12

"Yo, Danny. Going to Bucks, you in?"

Danny looks up from his phone. "Hell yeah," he says, grinning at Corey Mahone, his roommate and co-captain for the Los Angeles University Knights. With dark eyes, golden brown skin, and an infectious smile, Corey's a favorite among their female fans, especially since he has a tendency of stripping down to his shorts during competition warmups. "You in the zone?"

"I'm in the zone," Corey confirms. The Knights are hosting the Stanford Cardinals this evening, and Corey's spent most of the day going through his "process," which involves meditation, calling his mom, and extremely specific beverages.

Danny's more of a pump-up music guy himself, but you gotta respect the rituals, so he stays out of Corey's way on meet days. He is, however, allowed to tag along on the Starbucks run—there's usually a whole group that goes, since Corey's converted most of the team to a pregame coffee.

Sure enough, by the time they leave their apartment, texts are flying back and forth, and Danny and Corey wind up waiting near the arena for the others to join them. In just a few hours, they'll all be inside, running out one by one to greet the crowd; Danny's already starting to feel some of that adrenaline, a low burn in his veins that'll turn into a full-on fire once he takes his first step onto the floor.

Corey, on the other hand, is shivering as he takes selfies next to the sign for the arena—it's in the sixties today, which is basically cold in Los Angeles. "I'm thinking #KnightsWatch or #TheDarkKnightReturns," he says, flexing his biceps at the camera.

"Solid," Danny agrees, although he's only half paying attention, his eyes darting down to his phone. He's supposed to be getting some paperwork from USA Gymnastics for the American Cup, and he's trying to stay on top of his shit this year so Jane, the men's program manager, doesn't have to chase him down all the time (although she's assured him he's nowhere near as bad as Matt).

He tells himself he's not checking for messages from Sasha, because there's no reason to expect any. It's not like Sasha knows his competition schedule, and besides, Sasha never texts him. Not unless Danny texts first. And even then, he pretty much only replies with Ha ha or a single thumbs-up emoji.

Sometimes, Danny wonders why he's still bothering. Sasha ignored his call after Nanning, and he's never mentioned their kiss, so he obviously wants to pretend it didn't happen. Danny has no idea if he regrets it, or if he doesn't and that's freaking him out, or what—all he knows is that Sasha's keeping him at arm's length, maybe because he hasn't decided yet.

But the thing is, he answers Danny's texts. All of them. Like, even Danny's mom forgets to respond to him once in a while if she's busy at work, but Sasha doesn't. And Danny feels like that has to mean something, or at least he wants it to mean something, so he tries not to take the silences in between personally. If Sasha isn't ready to talk, he's not going to push it.

He just wishes…

"Danny! Corey!" Trevor, Brendan, and Liam appear, decked out in LA U white and blue. Danny waves at them, then looks down at his phone again and goes still.

Sasha's calling him.

He stares at the screen for several seconds, not quite believing it, then thinks: Holy shit.

"Uh, guys, I gotta take this," he says, and he doesn't even bother making an excuse. He just moves down the sidewalk as quickly as he can, trying not to look suspicious and hoping against hope that this isn't a butt dial.

Once he's far enough away, he picks up the call, his heart racing like he's in the middle of a workout. "Sasha! Hey!" he says, a little too loud, wincing when he hears his voice. "How are you, man, what's up?"

"I, uh… hello. How are you?"

Sasha sounds just as awkward as Danny, but at least it seems like he's calling on purpose, and Danny feels some of the tension dissipating from his shoulders.

"I'm good, yeah," he replies, glancing back at his teammates. A few more of them have shown up; Corey's making everyone take a group picture. "Just, uh, hanging out and getting ready for a meet. How about you?"

There's a slight pause, and then Sasha clears his throat. "I am sorry. You are busy. Good—"

"No, no, it's okay!" Danny says quickly. "We don't have to be there until 3:30. So I've got, like, two hours."

For a moment, he thinks Sasha's already gone—but then he hears an "Okay," and he lets out the breath he was holding. "Is this your school team?" Sasha asks after another pause.

Danny notices Corey and the others trying to catch his attention—they're all ready, waiting for him to finish his call. He motions for them to go ahead, gesturing at his phone and mouthing Sorry.

"Yeah, the Knights," he tells Sasha, watching as his teammates wave and start walking. "We're, like, in the middle of our season right now. We've got the MPSF Championships in March—that's, like, our conference—and then the NCAA Championships are in April, and that's, like, all the conferences…" He trails off, realizing Sasha definitely has no idea what he's talking about.

"In March?"

"Yeah, that's the MPSF Championships. And then Nattys in April. We've actually won both of them the last two years, so, going for a threepeat." When Sasha doesn't say anything, Danny adds, "Sorry, a threepeat's kind of, like, a thing where it's, like, you repeat it three times… like three… repeat… um, anyway, so, yeah, we're pretty busy, Coach is making us do all these extra practices, and I have, like, no idea when I'm supposed do any of my homework…"

He knows he's talking too much, but the silence at the other end of the line is making him nervous, and he can't seem to close his mouth.

"I mean, they're pretty good about giving us extensions on things, cause, like, we're traveling all the time, and, like, I don't really need good grades as long as I pass, but, I don't know, I feel like I should still try, you know? But, like, stats is killing me this semester and I just, like, don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

Sasha hasn't spoken for at least thirty seconds, and Danny's starting to panic, because this conversation is a disaster and he doesn't want Sasha to hang up. He's scrambling for another subject, trying to think of something that won't just be him word-vomiting, when Sasha asks, "So you are not going to American Cup?"

That's… a very random question, but Danny will take literally anything at this point. "Oh, yeah, I'm going. That's, like, early March. The MPSF Championships are—"

"I am going, too."

Cars are whizzing by, students are jogging around him, and Danny's frozen to his square of the sidewalk, blinking under the LA sun. "Wait. What? You're going to the American Cup?"

"Yes. They told me today."

It's sinking in, but slowly; he's still caught up on the fact that when Sasha found out he was coming to the US, he called Danny. It's like the moment he went for his triple twist at the NCAAs last year and just knew, the second he left the floor, that he was going to stick it: he feels lighter than air, the entire world beneath his feet.

"Dude. Holy shit. Are you serious? Wait—you guys don't usually go to this, right?"

Sasha's response is delayed, and Danny frowns, wonders if something's wrong with their connection. "No. This year, yes. They say it is good for experience."

Danny assumes that means international experience—which is kind of weird, since Sasha's already been to the Olympics and it doesn't get more international than that. But whatever, he's not gonna question anything that puts Sasha on a flight to the same city as him.

"Is this your first time in the US?" he asks, and when Sasha confirms it will be, he grins, accidentally making eye contact with a jogger and getting a confused look in return. Whoops. "That's awesome. Aw, I wish it was in California this year."

And even though he shouldn't be thinking about Sasha visiting his home state, because it's probably never going to happen, all of a sudden he can't shake the image of Sasha at his favorite beach, wearing sunglasses and one of those white shirts that look so fucking good on him.

"This is what my mother said," Sasha replies. "She always wants to go to San Francisco. Because of American show, Full House?"

Danny laughs. "No way, that's hilarious. You guys should totally come! San Francisco's, like, not too far from me"—okay, it's a seven-hour drive, but Sasha doesn't need to know that—"so if you want a tour guide…"

He falters, hearing absolutely nothing but dead air. Finally, after either a few seconds or an eternity, Sasha says, "I can't, I am busy training."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Danny quickly replies. "Same."

Another pause, Danny's skin crawling with embarrassment, and Sasha adds, "Maybe when training is done. After Olympics."

"Right, yeah," Danny agrees, even though that "maybe" sounds a lot like a "no" to him. Eager to change the subject, he says, "But hey, Texas is pretty cool! I mean, I've never been before, but I've heard their barbecue's insane. And I've always wanted to go to one of those rodeos, you know, with the cowboys? And the bulls? Or maybe they're broncos, I don't actually know what they're—"

Fortunately, Sasha interrupts, because otherwise Danny would have kept going for God knows how long. "Do you wear cowboy hat for this?"

"For a rodeo? Uh, no, I don't think you have to, but probably everyone does. Why, do you want me to?"

The instant the words slip out, he wants to dive head-first into a foam pit and never leave. Did he really just say that? When Sasha turned him down only a few seconds ago, and ignored his call after Nanning? As a long, horrible silence stretches between them, he holds the phone a few inches away from his face and mouths What the fuck? at himself, then checks the screen to make sure Sasha hasn't hung up.

Somehow, he hasn't, but a legitimately painful amount of time passes before Danny hears him speak again. "You should wear cowboy hat in workout video."

Danny's about to apologize when his brain stops, rewinding what it just heard.

"For Instagram," Sasha clarifies. "It will be good video. For your followers."

Wait. Is Sasha flirting with him? But if he is, there's no hint of it in his voice—which sounds as unruffled as ever, like he really could just be making an honest suggestion for Danny's social media image. And of course Danny can't see him, has no way of telling if those green eyes are smirking at him…

Fuck, why can't he ever figure out where he stands with this guy?

A few more seconds pass. Then Sasha says, "And for me."

Boom.Nailing that triple twist at the NCAAs, hearing his name called after the Olympic trials—it's that same exact sensation, a double helix of relief and adrenaline coursing through his veins. He fist-pumps the air, not even caring about the looks he gets from the other people on the sidewalk, because Aleksandr Zakaryan is in fact flirting with him. Which means he doesn't regret what happened in Nanning.

And it feels every bit as good as a gold medal hanging around his neck.

"Well, in that case," he says, grinning from ear to ear, "I'll see what I can do."

He's still basking in the moment when Sasha clears his throat. "Danny?"

"Yeah?" Danny's pulse quickens—Sasha doesn't usually say his name like that. Or at all, now that he thinks of it.

"I am sorry I did not answer when you called. After worlds."

Hearing Sasha apologize for that—honestly, just hearing him acknowledge it—is enough to loosen that last, lingering knot of doubt in Danny's mind. "It's okay," he replies, and it really is, because now he knows Sasha wants to see him in a cowboy hat. "I figured maybe you were, uh, kind of freaked out." When Sasha doesn't say anything, he hesitates, then asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Sasha answers, so quickly it stings. "Not now," he adds, his voice softening a little. "Better when we are in America. Not on phone."

Something about the way he says when we are in America makes Danny wonder if there's more to it than mere convenience. He'd scanned the Wikipedia article about LGBT rights in Russia on the flight back from Nanning, and it was pretty confusing—the article had said it wasn't illegal to be gay, and that gay people could serve in the military and sometimes adopt children, but it had also said that most Russians disapproved of same-sex relationships.

He's not really sure what that means for Sasha, because a lot of Americans disapprove, too, and some places are worse than others. But Sasha doesn't sound scared or anything, just matter-of-fact, and this is probably a conversation they should be having in person anyway.

"Okay, yeah. Definitely," he agrees, allowing himself to hope. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

The call doesn't last much longer, since Sasha has to get to bed early for practice. After they hang up, though, Danny feels a lot better about… well, he can't really think of the right label for it yet, but whatever this thing is between them.

When the Knights destroy the Cardinals later that night, it's sugar-sweet icing on the cake.

*

"Here you go, man. Thanks." Danny tosses the cowboy hat to Corey and leans back against the pommel horse, rewatching the video they just filmed. Spindles and scissors, nothing fancy—although it took a lot of takes before they finally got one without the hat flying off.

"Yeah, no problem." Corey drops the hat on his own head, admiring himself in the mirror. "What's this for, anyway?"

"Just some USAG promo," Danny lies as he opens Instagram to post the video. He types Ready for Texas baby!! See you at the American Cup and adds the fire emoji, because hell yeah, and a winking emoji, which he hopes Sasha knows is just for him.

He hits the post button, and in the few seconds it takes for him to put his shirt back on, reactions start flooding in from around the world. But the one Danny cares about the most comes half an hour later, at roughly ten o'clock Moscow time, when Sasha likes the video and then sends him a message on WhatsApp.

Sasha: See you there

Danny grins. Game fucking on.