Chapter 23

"Let's go, Isaiah!"

"Come on, Izzy, get it!"

Danny and the rest of Team USA hold their breaths, then jump to their feet as Isaiah hits a solid landing on his second vault. When the score flashes, it brings him to a 15.350 average, moving him into first place—although it's too early to tell if he'll medal, since there are six more competitors to go in today's final.

Including Sasha.

Danny sits back down between Matt and Yulien, glancing at the corral where the other athletes are waiting. Sasha's stretching his shoulders, watching a Romanian salute the judges; a few feet away from him, Kirill's jogging in place, trying to keep his muscles warm. The two of them won't be up until the end—Kirill sixth, Sasha last.

In between the Romanian's vaults, Yulien nudges Danny and holds up his phone. Danny smiles at the camera, then laughs when a couple of the girls from the women's team photobomb them. He pulls out his phone, wanting to take a group picture, and gets distracted by a new text.

Dad:Where are your crutches?

Danny looks diagonally across the arena. His parents are sitting somewhere by the high bar—he feels a twinge of guilt, knowing they'd bought those tickets in hopes of him making the final later this afternoon—and while he can't pick them out of the crowd, he's guessing they noticed the entire team standing up for Isaiah.

Danny:I'm not putting any weight on it

Danny:Promise!!

He searches for a flamingo emoji and doesn't find one, so he sends the sunglasses guy instead. Probably not the answer his dad was hoping for, but it was a pain in the ass trying to fit his crutches under the seats, and he's not going to be pulling them out all day whenever he wants to cheer for his teammates.

As the Romanian gets his final score—not as high as Isaiah's—Danny looks at the corral again, only to do a double take when he sees Sasha standing behind Kirill, massaging his neck and shoulders. Kirill's eyes are closed, and he's leaning slightly backwards, into Sasha's touch; when Sasha whispers something in his ear, he smiles, murmuring a response.

What the fuck?

It's not that Danny's never seen a sideline massage before—hell, he's gotten plenty of them himself—but they're always done by a trainer, not another athlete. So how come Sasha's the one working out Kirill's knots for him? And why does it seem, like, really intimate?

Every doubt he's ever had about their friendship comes rushing back, and he swallows, wondering if maybe he wasn't imagining things after all. Because now Sasha's thumbing small circles into Kirill's biceps, like he's done this a thousand times, and that can't be normal, right? Like, sure, sometimes shit gets weird in the gym, but Danny's never given any of his teammates a massage. Not even Matt. And not that he's been paying attention until recently, but the Russians don't seem like a touchy-feely group, either.

So why is Sasha all over Kirill, when he barely accepts Danny's hugs?

He turns to Matt for a second opinion, only to find him busy flirting with Julia, who's sitting on his other side. Like all the girls on their team, she's tiny and jacked, her hair pulled back tight in a ponytail; her brown eyes are rolling at Matt as he teases her about her taste in protein bars.

"I mean, come on, Jules, lemon cream pie? It's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed for you."

"Says the guy who still eats Chewy bars…"

Danny leans over, high-fives Julia, and backs out of the conversation before Matt can murder him. Unfortunately, now he has nothing to distract him from Sasha and Kirill's little massage session—which continues all the way through the next vaulter's turn, Sasha switching arms at a nod from Kirill. Seriously, what the fuck?

He knows what Matt would say, which is, "Dude, you should have talked to him like I told you," and it's true. He should have, and instead he'd opted for blowjobs first, which had seemed like a great idea at the time… right until Sasha took off afterwards, running back to the room he shared with Kirill.

Okay, don't be that guy,he tells himself, taking a deep breath. Sasha's situation is a lot more dangerous than his, and if he has to leave early to avoid getting caught, then it's on Danny to respect that and not be a jealous asshole. Besides, does he really think Sasha would hook up with him and Kirill on the same night? No, he doesn't.

But even if Sasha did… it's not like he owes Danny anything.

Fuck.Okay. No. He's not doing this. He's not going to freak out over a massage, even if it makes him uncomfortable; he's not going to second-guess Sasha, who's never given Danny a real reason to doubt him. He's going to take about twenty chill pills, and then he's going to have an actual, adult conversation with Sasha and find out once and for all where he stands.

Still, he feels a lot better when Ri Se-gwang, the vaulter from North Korea, mounts the podium—which means that Kirill, who's next in line, moves up to wait by the stairs while Sasha stays behind.

"Oh, man, this guy's insane," Yulien says as the noise in the arena reaches a fever pitch, and even Matt looks up from flirting with Julia.

Although it's pretty much guaranteed that Isaiah's about to be knocked out of first place, Danny still leans forward, excited to watch. Not only does Ri Se-gwang have two vaults named after him, but they're the hardest ones in the Code of Points, each with a difficulty value of 6.4. Since most of the other guys are doing 6.0 vaults, that gives the North Korean a huge advantage in the scoring system, where the difficulty value is combined with an execution grade that's out of a possible 10.0.

No one ever gets a perfect ten on execution anymore—the judges always find something to take off—but Ri Se-gwang's difficulty allows him that much more room for error. And sure enough, even though he stumbles on both of his landings, his scores still average out into a 15.450, moving him ahead of Isaiah.

"How the fuck do you do a piked Dragulescu," Yulien says enviously as the North Korean waves at the audience.

"Dude, I can't even do a regular Dragulescu," Danny replies.

Yulien looks down at Isaiah, who's back in his warmup gear, headphones on as he watches the rest of the competition. "Well, silver would still be amazing," he says hopefully.

But then Kirill steps up. His vaults aren't quite as hard as Ri Se-gwang's, but they're close, and he has them under tighter control, taking only a small hop on each landing. He leaves the podium with a satisfied nod, exchanging a perfunctory handshake with his coach before walking back to Sasha.

A few seconds later, everyone around Danny sighs in disappointment as a 15.400 flashes across the scoreboard, knocking Isaiah down to bronze; but Danny's still holding his breath, waiting to see if Sasha and Kirill hug each other. When Sasha reaches out for a high-five instead, the relief of it almost makes him dizzy, like landing safe after getting lost in a tumbling pass—because honestly, if Sasha had gone in for the hug, that would have convinced him right then and there.

But Sasha hadn't. And that feels like a sign, no matter how small.

"Okay, so, both of these guys just need less than a 15.350," Yulien says as the second-to-last athlete salutes the judges, and that's when Danny realizes that if Sasha medals, Isaiah won't.

Fuck.He checks the scoreboard, as if another option might be on there, but unless Sasha gets the exact same score as Isaiah—which, okay, the women had a four-way tie on the uneven bars yesterday, so anything's possible—only one of them's going to be on that podium.

The cameras are already circling around Isaiah, looking for a reaction. Isaiah's expression doesn't change, but Danny can see him leaning forward in his chair, watching the vault closely. The South Korean competitor struggles on both of his landings, receiving the lowest scores of the afternoon, and soon the only person left is Sasha.

Danny feels like he's the one about to compete, heart pounding as Sasha chalks up and positions himself at the edge of the runway. He waits patiently for the judges' signal, and Danny has no idea how he does it, how he can look so calm with all the adrenaline that's got to be racing through his veins—he's not even practicing his arm movements.

"Yo." Matt elbows him, leaning close so Julia can't hear. "What's he doing?"

Danny knows what he's really asking: if Sasha has a chance of beating Isaiah.

"His first one's a triple Tsuk," he says, nodding at the flashboard. Every athlete has to submit their planned vaults ahead of time, so the difficulty value can be displayed for the judges and the audience; it's more of a courtesy, though, since you're allowed to change your vault mid-competition for whatever reason, whether it's injury or strategy.

Matt glances at the 6.0 on the flashboard, then back at Danny. "Okay, and?"

"I don't know." Sasha and his coaches had still been deciding when Danny texted him yesterday. "He has a triple Yurchenko, but he's never competed it before."

"What does he normally do, a two and a half?" Matt asks, and Danny nods. "You think he's gonna go for it?"

"No idea." Danny's trying to calculate potential scores in his head, but he's never been good at math; Yulien's usually the one crunching numbers on the sidelines. He knows the Yurchenko two and a half's a 5.6, while the triple's a 6.0—but Isaiah had done a 6.0 and a 6.4, and his execution was pretty good, so is it even worth it for Sasha to take the risk?

Fuck, it's like word problems all over again.

Before he can ask Yulien, the light on the flashboard turns green, and Sasha salutes the judges. The arena goes quiet while he studies the vault, preparing for his turn, and then takes off down the runway. Seconds later, he hits the springboard and blocks off the vault, soaring through the air—each spin more perfect than the last, textbook twisting until his feet hit the ground and he sticks the landing cold.

Several people in Danny's row mutter "Wow" under their breath, casting anxious glances at Isaiah as the crowd erupts into applause around them. Mindful of his teammates, Danny restrains himself to a few polite claps, when what he really wants to do is to jump up and cheer—because that vault was fucking art, like a gif of it should be playing on a loop in a museum somewhere, and he doesn't know how the judges are going to find any deductions.

"Dude." Matt elbows him again, looking at Sasha like he's never seen him before. "He's really good."

Danny tries to fight back a smile, but it breaks through, stretching so wide it hurts. "Yeah. He is."

Something in his voice makes Matt glance up. "Oh, man, you got it bad," he says, laughing when Danny blushes. "Bro, you're so fucked."

Before Danny can even think about how to respond to that, the score for Sasha's first vault comes in: 15.545.

The crowd roars, and Danny's jaw drops when he realizes Sasha got a 9.545 on his execution, the highest out of the entire competition. And he's pretty sure the judges were just inventing shit to deduct, which makes the whole thing that much more insane. He gets high eights most of the time, low nines if he's lucky—he couldn't dream of getting a 9.545.

Even Sasha seems surprised; he pauses on the way back to his starting position, eyes narrowed at the scoreboard as if he can't quite believe what he's seeing.

"Co?o," Yulien groans, and Danny can never remember what that means no matter how many times he asks, but he knows it isn't good.

He leans over, unable to stop himself. "What does he need on his next vault? If he's gonna beat Isaiah?"

Yulien's already opening the calculator app on his phone. "He needs a—oh," he says, catching sight of something on the podium and sighing in relief. "Never mind, he's not doing it with that."

Danny looks up. The difficulty value on the flashboard has dropped from a 6.0 to a 5.6—meaning Sasha and his coaches decided on the Yurchenko with two and a half twists, not the triple. Even if Sasha gets the same execution score again… well, that's a lot of math, but Yulien seems confident that it won't be enough to overtake Isaiah.

Danny should feel relieved. Problem solved, Isaiah gets a medal, now he can applaud Sasha's last vault without any guilt. But the thing is, he's seen Sasha training the triple in the practice gym, and he knows he can do it just as well as the two and a half. Of course, that's not the same as actually competing it, and whipping out a new vault at worlds would be a pretty ballsy move… but if it were him, with a medal on the line, he'd go for it.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, Sasha turns around and walks back to his coach, who's getting the springboard ready for his second vault.

"Oh my God. Dude." Danny whacks Matt, although he has to do it a couple of times before he actually manages to hit him, because all his attention is focused on the conversation Sasha's now having with his coach. "I think he's doing the triple."

"Wait, fuck, really?"

"Yeah. I think." Although, as usual, Danny can't tell anything from Sasha's expression. Maybe he's doing the triple, maybe he just wanted the board moved; he certainly doesn't look nervous as he returns to the end of the runway and salutes the judges.

But in that breath of a moment where he's gazing at the vault, one of his hands twitches—and that's when Danny knows.

"Come on," he whispers, so quietly even Matt can't hear him.

Sasha sprints down the runway, his face contorted in concentration. He does a round-off onto the board and flings himself backward onto the vault, pushing off again a second later—and Danny counts the twists, one, two, three, legs straight, toes pointed, absolute poetry in motion.

And he thinks: He's got it.

But then the landing comes, awkward and off-balance, forcing Sasha to take a massive step sideways to avoid a fall. His foot catches on the out-of-bounds line, and while it's hard to tell if he actually crosses it, he's lost at least three-tenths already—and the judges are bent over their papers, scribbling away.

Luckily, the "Aw, man" that slips out of Danny's mouth is covered up by the crowd, applauding as Sasha pulls his feet back together and bows to the judges; and also by Yulien, swearing in Spanish as he whips out his phone again.

Sasha doesn't seem too upset, although there's a small wrinkle in his forehead when he comes off the podium, like he's still thinking about that landing. While he talks to his coach, Danny leans towards Yulien, trying to make sense of the numbers flashing rapid-fire across his calculator app.

"What do you think?"

"It's gonna be close," Yulien says grimly. His eyes dart between his phone and the scoreboard, where Isaiah's 15.350 is still in third. "Did you see if he went out of bounds?"

"Uh…" Danny watches Sasha reunite with Kirill, the two of them doing that shoulder-clap, hand-clasp thing which does not, in Danny's opinion, count as a real hug. He feels a tiny, stupid amount of relief—

And then all of that gets shoved to the back of his mind, because the number that comes in for Sasha's second vault is a 15.150, averaging with his first vault for a final score of 15.348.

Two-thousandths of a point behind Isaiah.

"Holy fucking shit," Danny says, the only thing he can say when all of his teammates are screaming, Isaiah's waving up at them, the crowd's going wild, and Sasha's shrugging awkwardly at the camera in his face. He looks disappointed, but not devastated, turning to congratulate Kirill on his silver and then walking over to shake hands with Isaiah.

"Wow." Matt lets out a long breath, glancing sideways at Danny. "I thought he was gonna do it."

"Yeah. Shit." It's really weird, feeling this torn up about his own teammate winning a medal… but damnit, just a couple freaking thousandths of a point and then Sasha could have gotten one, too.

The athletes aren't allowed to linger, since the balance beam final is starting in a few minutes, and they're quickly ushered to one of the exits, which happens to be right under where Team USA is sitting.

"IZZY!" Matt roars as soon as Isaiah's within earshot.

Isaiah grins, and so do some of the other gymnasts behind him when they notice the Americans' cheering section. It's absolute chaos, everyone on their feet: the girls waving their signs, Adam and Ethan waving their shirts, Yulien jumping onto his seat to hold up three fingers on each hand, and Matt… well, Matt being Matt.

"U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!" he chants, and they all join in, stomping and clapping (or in Danny's case, hopping and clapping).

Sasha and Kirill are the last ones to reach the exit. They look up at the Americans, and Kirill rolls his eyes, muttering something to Sasha. Sasha doesn't respond, however, and when Kirill picks up his pace, Sasha seems to slow down, his gaze drifting over to Danny.

Danny waits until Kirill's disappeared through the exit, then quickly lowers his hand, spinning his index finger around three times and flashing Sasha a discreet thumbs-up. Sasha's eyes widen, and when Danny grins at him, he blushes and ducks his head, hurrying after Kirill.

"Was that a weird sex thing?" Matt immediately has to ask.

Before Danny can answer, Julia leans over, her ponytail swinging as she raises her eyebrows at them. "What's a weird sex thing?"

Matt doesn't miss a beat. "Top-secret boy stuff," he says, and Julia rolls her eyes but leaves them to it, going back to her conversation with the other girls.

"That was not a weird sex thing," Danny clarifies, only to think about it and add, "Although actually… can I have the room tonight?"

A few minutes later, he's texting Sasha, and a few minutes after that, Sasha sends him a response that contains exactly three letters.