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Summary
Still, Henry shakes his head and teases, “Whatever will you do without all those figure skaters and their short skirts around?”
“Fuck off, asshole!” Alex huffs with a laugh, shoving him hard in the shoulder, only to hook his arm around Henry’s neck and drag him closer. “Only thing I need for my Olympic experience is four gold medals. Besides, I got you to bug the shit out of. What more do I need?”
(Henry isn't expecting much out of his third Olympics—still climbing up the world ranks after an injury, he's not in the medal conversation, no matter how much his best friend and chief competitor, Alex Claremont-Diaz, might insist otherwise. After all, Alex is far and away the gold medal favourite, ranked first in the world and damn near uncatchable on a piste lately. Between that and the fact that they're hundreds of kilometres away from most of the other Olympic venues, he expects the games to be relatively quiet. Low key. Downright unremarkable.
He couldn't be more wrong.)