Chapter 21: Rock the Track

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It was weeks in the making. The Ludi Plebeii was already underway in Rome. The faint sounds of the flute players and the haunting chorales of the singers echoed in the streets, chasing my sleep away. We found out the event was being pushed back a little more than a week after speculation that it was being moved up early this year. After leaving Julian's home the following morning I would resume my training with Caetus like nothing happened. Although I wondered about the festivities I had no time to see them. Caetus did his best to discourage Clitus and me from visiting Julian's residence. He said 'I was chasing something that was elusive'...that it was 'distracting.' But it was the very home I was searching for all this time. After months of searching there was no need to search anymore and there was nothing left that he could tell me to change my mind.

Rays of light bled through the wooden shutters before finding their way on my bare skin. I peeled my eyelids open only to blink away the rays of light. I stared at the frescoes peering back at me as if the people could come alive. I jolted upright, feeling the wrinkled linen sheets crumple to my waist. As the rectangular room grew into focus, I remembered where I was. I was in Julian's home after he allowed me to spend the night. How could I forget that? It was morning, that was certain but what time was it? The races would be starting in only a few hours!

"I suppose today is the day," I muttered under my breath as my feet flipped over the side of the bed, hitting the cold mosaic tiles. I eased myself out the soft sheets and walked towards the polished metal mirror that hung on the wall. I frowned as I tried to pat down my ruffled hair which loved to spring upward. At its length, it loved to stick up in all directions. Some oil and water should tame it.

"I have the curly hair of a racer, and the body too," I joked to myself, patting my taut stomach muscles before gripping my arm muscles. I was getting stronger at least. Now where were my clothes...?

"Troy..." a voice called from the hallway. I knelt to find the wicker basket sitting at the foot of my bed to find my clothes...

"Caetus is hereeee..." the female voice trailed. I jolted upward, facing Julia as she walked through the open doorway!

"Oh my! I am so sorry, Troy. I didn't know you were changing. I should have asked and now I feel so silly to have walked in to see a half-naked boy who is well-built, and um why I did I just say that. I always say the wrong things—"

"Julia," I interjected. "Relax." The room grew quiet as I gazed at her creamy complexion flushing bright pink. She was the first to break my gaze before retreating to the hallway.

"What happened to my clothes?" I asked dropping my gaze. I gripped my loins, afraid my subligarium was going to unravel without warning. I touched my cheeks, only to find them warm to the touch. Thank goodness I did not sleep in the nude!

Julia hesitated before responding. "I think Claudia must have come in and took them to get pressed by the fullers. She must have seen them laying around and thought they needed a good cleaning. I am sorry, Troy. I really should be going," she continued. Her eyes caught a glimpse of my almost naked form before she covered her eyes again with her dainty fingers.

"I am not looking," she insisted. I smirked at her befuddled expression behind her hand. There were lightly clad and naked statues in their home, so I imagined she was used to seeing the male form in all its glory, but I suppose a statue and a living man were two very different things.

"Wait!" I called out, my voice coming off more authoritative than anticipated.

Julia froze outside the doorway; her hand slowly lowering from her face.

"Yes," she answered ruefully.

"Tell Caetus I will be running late."

I had only a few minutes to get ready before Caetus left. I had ended up wearing one of the many tunics Julian owned. The cottony fabric clung to the fine hairs on my body as I pulled the garment over my head. With only a moment to spare I grabbed a loaf of bread from one of the cooks before rushing out the door with a mouthful of undigested food.

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