Disclaimer: I am not 100% educated on the process of signing up for the Olympics. This is mostly of what I remember learning about years ago, so don't come after me if any of this information is incorrect. It's my story so idc.
Three weeks later:
The arrangements have been better than I expected. Ophelia has been in love with Theo and it has been slightly scary. Theo hasn't cared much about the hyper active three year old who has been attached to him at the hip at any possible moment.
I've been needing his help more often than I excepted since starting training. When I went for the tryouts the week after finding out, I was almost immediately accepted—not realizing it was the final stages of try outs.
Usually, their are weeks worth of stages that you have to go through before you reach the final—but returning or invited members don't have to go through that process. Instead, I and a few other skaters, had to show up at the last stage and prove we are still worthy of our old positions, getting some sort of seniority.
Some practices, Ophelia would show up with Theo for a few minutes—usually during my breaks. Theo has been the greatest help, and I can't lie and say it isn't nice having someone over almost every day.
I'm still so surprised how he found a way to work out the rough schedule with his boss, but informed me that his 24/7 tattoo shop allows him to late; past midnight. He always comes over with slight bags under his eyes, and has taken resident spot in my guest room as the room he sleeps in during Ophelia's nap times.
I told him he could come later in the day, picking Ophelia up from the rink during morning practices— but he consistently argues against it.
Tonight, I came home after my toughest day of practice, because we plan on spending the next week or so doing just press work—so we used this one practice to make up for the week of occupied time. My feet were blistered and swollen, practically begging to be freed from my skates, while my knees had excessive amounts of bruising on them from the amount of falls I taken.
Mid-practice, one of my friends had the bright idea to set me up on a blind date with one of her coworkers. I wanted to say no the second I saw the text during my water break, but thought I deserved a break from all the hard work I had been doing. Ophelia and Theo had plans to go to a drive in movie tonight, anyways.
I said yes after much contemplation, and now have to get ready. I'm not really sure what to wear—given I haven't been on a date in months now, too occupied by my toddler and job.
When I tried reaching out to Anna, the one who set up the whole arrangement, she was probably with her boyfriend which is why she didn't answer the phone. Then when I wanted to call Monique, I remembered she was on a red-eye flight to Los Angeles. Ilxia had an exam tomorrow—so my clothing troubles were the least of her worries.
It was a tough decision between two outfits. Anna told me he had dinner reservations to a very nice and fancy restaurant in the area, and I was informed to dress up nicely.
First choice; a red corset top with mesh puffed sleeves, and leather pants. Or, a black long sleeve bodycon dress that stopped at my mid thigh, with a trench, stockings, and knee high boots—all in the same dark contrast as the dress.
I was standing, half naked in just my panties and matching bra, with my favorite comfy robe on top—contemplating outfit choices. With no one to call, I dialed probably the worst person.
"Hey?" The deep voice answered within two rings.
"Can I interrupt you for two seconds?" I practically plea with the man on the other end of the line. Maybe it wasn't smart to call Theo of all people, but he's been on dates—I'm pretty sure, given how fucking beautiful of a specimen he was—he could probably give me advice on what to wear.
I could hear the movie playing in the background of the call and became guilty. "Anything to occupy my attention from this retched movie," he chuckles at the other end which soothes my nerves. His voice is so smooth, yet rough and raspy. It has a cooling effect that no one else possesses against me.
"I'm going to video call, I need advice on outfit choice for a date," I say, propping my phone on my desk—using a large book to hold it up.
He answers the video chat, and I can see him sitting in the bed of his truck, pillows and blankets surround him, and the illuminated glow from the childish movie plays over his face—reflecting pinks and purples.
His eyes still as he notices me in just my robe and nothing else. "Well sweetheart this is much better than the movie," he whispers, and I notice him moving from the bed, to the front seat. Before I could protest against his need to move—leaving my daughter—I notice her, propped up against a stuffed pillow, through the glass window behind his head.
"Ok two options," I explain, holding up the options for him to see.
"I need to see them on you," he rasps, and some sort of heat shocks my whole body, sending a cold shiver through my entire frame.
Nodding, I get out of the camera frame, stripping of my robe—leaving me in just my red and black lace panties and bra. Before I could start putting on the clothes, a slight groan vibrates through my phone. "You good," I laugh, wondering what could cause a reaction from him.
"Sweetheart, I've never been more happier for mirrors," he respond, his voice deep and husky. Before I could question the context of his words, I turn to see the mirror that is facing perfectly angled so the reflection of my half naked frame is in front, while my phone captures it all. "I'd recommend turning off your camera before you take off your clothes."
"Thanks for the advice," I rush the words out as deep scarlet flushes my face, running over to flip the phone down onto the table. I catch my breath for a few seconds, but hearing the devilish chuckle from this man is nothing close to soothing anymore.
"You've seen me shirtless plenty of times, I guess this is slight payback?" He says, phone still facing the table. It is true, I've walked in on him changing a couple of times by accident—usually getting a glimpse of his bare chest and back, wearing nothing but his black boxer briefs that are tight against his ass.
I laugh slightly, before forcing myself to forget the embarrassment, and putting on the corset option first. I flip back my phone, seeing he is still in the same spot he was before disaster struck. He eyed the look for a few minutes, before saying. "Option two?"
I turn my phone back down, before changing into the dress. Coming back and doing the same ritual of showing him. "How much do you want to fuck this guy?" Theo asks nonchalantly. Red immediately comes back to my face.
"Theo! I haven't even seen this guy. I'm not fucking anyone until I've at least seen their face!" Maybe those weren't the best words to say, sounding too easy or desperate. Which I'm not. But when you haven't been on a date in months, and your hand is probably your best tool—some nights it doesn't hurt to have a little desperation.
He shrugs his shoulders. "If the answer is not so much, corset. If it is like, wet and needy; dress." He is talking as if his words aren't making me flush with embarrassment.
"I'm never calling you again," I groan, keeping the dress option as I fixed my hair slightly—him still on the phone.
"Well at least I know where you live," he laughs lightly.
I too laugh. "To any other person, that makes you sound like a stalker," I tell him. He continues to laugh, as I touch up my mascara and lipstick.
"Sweetheart I am not a desperate man that I need to stalk woman like prey. I have wit and charm to do that," he smiled dumbly—something I found my self swooning over every time. He has this interesting humor that I've grown to like over the past weeks.
I giggle, smile against the red lipstick. "And your horrible sense of humor and bad dirty talk," I add.
He chuckles a deep and sinister chuckle. "Oh you haven't heard dirty talk from me, if you believe that would be the opinion to form," he practically growls the words. And a small part of me is slightly wishing Theo was the one tearing off my dress tonight.
No. What the fuck is wrong with you. That if you child's nanny!
Is it my fault that a man that is too handsome for his own good practically lives with me, takes amazing care of my daughter, and is extremely thoughtful and sweet, sounds so good to fuck? Not even for one night. Just to get it out of my system.
He probably isn't even thinking the same way, so I don't know why these horribly dirty thoughts play out in my brain.
I'm begging this date can help clear out my mind.