5. Deena

Deena

" P aula, you and Deena will be in here."

Coach Radcliffe handed us each a key as she slowed down in front of a door in one of the large buildings set up in the athlete's housing complex. The construction was so new you could still smell the paint on the walls.

"Can't I room with Kara?" she asked.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kara's head whip in our direction. To my knowledge, Kara and Paula didn't know each other besides casual conversations at events. I should know, I spent an inordinate amount of time watching Paula.

"Kara's staying with her teammates," Coach Radcliffe said firmly. She wasn't one to put up with a lot of nonsense. "As you both will."

Even though Kara was the only person from her training team who qualified for the marathon, several of her teammates had qualified for other track and field events.

"Are you disappointed to be my roommate?" I asked, studying her expression.

She seemed pissed. I felt a little twinge of sadness at the thought. I'd been hoping for months that we would be roommates and get to know each other better.

Paula looked between me and the coach, who was frowning at her.

"It's fine," she huffed, sticking her key in the lock.

I sometimes wasn't very good at reading people's emotions, but even I could tell that her ‘fine' meant the opposite of fine.

"I'm going to suggest that you two get some food, then head to bed early so you can avoid jet lag," Coach Radcliffe instructed. "I'll meet you and the rest of the team down at the track to practice at seven a.m. The schedule and maps are all in the folder I gave you."

"Thank you," I said, remembering to make eye contact. "See you in the morning."

I walked into our room with Paula on my heels.

"Do you have a preference on which bed to take?" I asked.

Paula looked around our room with obvious distaste. Not that I blamed her.

It was a tiny space with gray cinderblock walls, concrete floors, and a single window bringing in light. In the distance I could see the Seine River though, which was a nice touch. The furnishings were nothing to write home about either. There were two contraptions on opposite walls that were a combination of shelves and a small space for hanging clothing, two small tables, and two beds covered with comforters emblazoned with the famous logo of the International Games. That was definitely a souvenir that I'd be bringing home with me, even if it was only big enough for a twin-sized bed.

"Oh my God. These beds really are cardboard. I guess I was hoping that was just a joke," Paula said, leaning down to examine the frame underneath her mattress.

The position made her track pants stretch tight across her muscular ass, a sight that made my nipples harden. I turned away before I did something embarrassing, like begging her to kiss me.

I'd had an inconvenient crush on Deena since the first time we met. It was inconvenient not only because she was my teammate, but also because she seemed to hate me. Rather intensely. I had no idea what I'd done to garner such strong emotion from her. She seemed to have a cordial relationship with everyone else on the team.

The first time I met Paula was during our team orientation two years ago. The sportswear company that hired us had brought on a group of ten female runners and track and field specialists as part of a larger effort to expand their footprint in women's sports. They had invested a staggering amount of money into a new women's training facility and lured some of the best athletes in the field into coming to coach for the program.

I'd just sat down at a table in a conference room when I felt the oddest sensation, kind of like the hair on the back of my neck was tingling. I looked up and there was Paula.

She was tall and lean, with light brown skin, big brown eyes, and long hair that was just one shade lighter than black. She wore it long, generally in a ponytail, and it was so shiny that I often fantasized about touching it. I'd heard her telling someone else on the team once that she went to a salon to have regular keratin treatments to tame some of her natural curls and prevent it from getting too frizzy.

The day I first saw her, Paula was wearing slim-fitting jeans, flip flops, and a blue and white polka dot shirt that she'd tucked into the front of her pants but left out in the back. She looked like she was going to a barbecue or something.

Her brown eyes met mine for a long moment and I felt the world shift.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, walking towards me with a big, bright smile. It was dazzling, like looking at the Hope Diamond.

"No," I mumbled, looking down at my lap before forcing myself to lift my gaze again.

The anxiety that I already felt about being in a new situation ramped up, making it hard to focus on anything other than my pounding heart. I pressed my feet into the floor, trying to ground myself, and took several slow breaths.

"I'm Paula Martinez," she said, holding out her hand.

Her skin was soft and smooth as I shook her hand, my gaze on her forehead.

"My name is Deena Lovelace," I said.

The corners of her eyes crinkled, like she was trying to figure something out. When I didn't say anything else, she started jabbering about how excited she was to be here, stopping periodically to ask me questions that I struggled to answer. She spoke quickly, and it took me a second to catch up, especially with her looking at me and making me feel off-kilter.

It felt like by the time I processed what she said and formulated a response, she'd moved onto the next thing. My anxiety was keeping me from thinking clearly.

After a few minutes our conversation sputtered off, and Paula turned to stare at the front of the room, her face no longer open and friendly. And from that day forward, I was, as my mother phrased it, on her ‘shit list'.

I just wasn't sure why.

Determined to use the forced proximity of our roommate assignment to get to know Paula better, and hopefully get her to stop hating me, I decided to put myself out there. It wasn't a comfortable place for me in general, but my mother and my best friend had both encouraged me to get out of my head and embrace the once in a lifetime experience of being in Paris and attending the International Games.

So I took a deep breath and turned to my temporary roommate and hopefully future friend.

"Paula."

She jumped as I said her name, like maybe she'd forgotten I was here.

"Would you like to go down to the cafeteria and get dinner with me?"