Chapter Text
Amber feels the remnants of adrenaline leave her body, replaced by the buzz of alcohol in her system. Just one drink, she said to herself, echoing what Ellie told her when she shoved a paper cup with a mysterious concoction in her hand. Amber downs the whole thing in one gulp to get it out of the way, flipping her cup to show Ellie who throws her a thumbs up before diving back into the throng.
Team USA is holding an impromptu victory party. Of course top athletes like herself are usually on strict diets that disallow any drop of alcohol, but rules can be bent with gold medals, it seems.
Amber was against the idea but the girls weren’t so here she is, standing on the sidelines, foot tapping nervously and scanning the room with watchful eyes. Her gaze is now on Alysa, who’s twitching to pop music playing on a bluetooth speaker that’s connected to her phone. She knows the song – Ponyboy by Sophie – and she can’t help but be amused at how only Alysa and Isabeau seem to be the only ones unironically vibing to the music, ignoring the few odd glances thrown their way.
But then another cup is handed out to Alysa. Amber frowns at the offending beverage, strides over to them, snatches the cup from Alysa's hand. She drinks the entire thing herself.
“Hey!” Alysa says, laughing as she playfully shoves Amber. “I was gonna drink that.”
“Nope, no more, two drinks is enough.”
Alysa grabs at her hand. There’s a glint in her eyes that looks like those two drinks are making Alysa extra enthusiastic about, well…
“Dance with me?”
Dancing apparently.
Isabeau hip checks her, side-eyeing like there’s a secret Amber’s supposed to be in on. “Hell yes, dance for us blades of glory!”
….
The drink tasted like piss water but she’d taken generous sips from her first cup, getting herself used to the taste, then chugging the next one down. Her goal was to get tipsy. She’s not usually a drinker, not even at uni, but she wants to try getting inebriated at the Olympics now that the opportunity has presented itself. It wasn’t in her bucket list but now, as she feels her head start to feel the tell-tale signs of mild intoxication, she decides to belatedly add it already checked off.
Her playlist switches to a Chairlift song and remembers another entry from her unofficial bucket list: dance with someone to I Belong In Your Arms.
Cheesy, as all half-thought bucket list items are. She’s about to trash the idea when she sees Amber approaching them. Amber! Perfect!
She asks this badass, dorky, gorgeous, goddess of a woman to dance. They sway to the music, uncoordinated and laughing their lungs out, hand in hand and only letting go when Amber makes her twirl and spin before doing the same. They inch closer as the music reaches the bridge. Closer and closer, her head spinning and cheeks hurting from smiling so much, and they keep dancing like there’s no tomorrow, as if the fucking Olympics is nothing but a backdrop for this moment.
…
The sunlight against her face wakes Amber, wincing as she opens her eyes before quickly covering it with a hand. It so fucking bright. She feels a throbbing pain in her temples and winces again. What the fuck was in that fucking drink.
Her leg bumps against something soft and firm. She squints down to look and what she sees there, on her bed right beside her, are a pair of legs. She then looks at herself and discovers she’s only in her underwear. God, she feels another throb at the center of her forehead this time – she had not planned on hooking up with anyone despite the thriving web that’s been going on in the village, but then again getting drunk was not the plan either.
She slowly trails her eyes upward and this time she leaps out the bed.
Bleached rings on thick locks of brunette hair, a bare shoulder, legs equally bare tangled in sheets. Amber’s sheets, because this is clearly her room. It takes everything in her not to shriek.
Amber Glenn fell into bed with none other than her teammate and close, personal friend Alysa Liu. She’s done it now, absolutely fucking–
She freezes when Alysa stirs, rolls over to lie on her back. Amber rushes to close the open window so the sunlight doesn’t wake Alysa. She needs a few minutes to process, or maybe rehearse whatever the hell she’s supposed to say to Alysa when she wakes up and realizes they, well, may have hooked up.
Damn that fucking drink.
The sheets slipped slightly off Alysa’s chest when she rolled on her back earlier and Amber, in her panic, is noticing just now. Her delicate collarbones are dotted with a couple beauty marks, a scattering of faint freckles in her chest that trail down lower to...
It hits Amber that Alysa is wearing nothing.
She nearly drops to the floor again, but instead lands right on the bed.
Alysa’s eyes fly open. Amber stills.
“Amber? Where…” Alysa yawns as she sits up. She glances around, frowns, looks down at her now fully bare chest. Her eyes widen but she doesn’t make an effort to cover herself up which drives Amber further to insanity.
Her eyes find Amber’s. “Did we?”
“Seems like it,” Amber sighs and drops her face to her hands. “I can’t remember anything from last night.”
“Me neither,” she hears Alysa say, then she hears her giggle and looks back up.
Alysa, grinning like an idiot, face lit with stray sunlight peeking through the blinds, looking at Amber like this made sense, whatever this is. A beat too long later, Alysa looks away and pats her own shoulder. “Good job, drunk me.”
Amber chucks a pillow at her. “You’re crazy.” She’s also grinning now, some of the tension dissolving as she absorbs Alysa’s laughter. The pillow now thankfully rests against Alysa’s chest so Amber can now look at her without pointedly trying hard to keep her gaze at face level.
“I’m kinda sad I can’t remember anything about it,” Alysa says. Amber chooses not to think too deeply about all the possible implications from that statement. She fails, of course, so now she’s left blushing like a pre-teen.
Amber likes Alysa, of course she does, but she wasn’t planning on doing anything about it. She was a teammate and they were at the only Olympics she can plausibly participate in, not to mention the fact that Alysa is younger. It really wasn’t a good idea at all and Amber had done well to take it off her mind.
“We can just forget anything happened,” Amber blurts out. “I’m really sorry.”
Alysa sits back up, looking worried now. The pillow drops to her lap.
Dear lord. Amber swallows and accepts her fate.
“Don’t apologize. Also why forget?” There’s a hint of something like disappointment there that makes Amber’s chest alternate between fluttering and squeezing with each pulse, but she shakes out of it.
“I don’t want to make things complicated, or awkward.”
Alysa is quiet for a while. She looks around briefly and grabs a shirt splayed near the edge of the bed and quickly puts it on. It’s Amber’s. “I won’t make things weird, promise,” she says, with all the seriousness the girl can muster.
All Amber can do is nod and excuse herself to go to the bathroom. She splashes cold water on her face to rid of any hints of warmth creeping up over the thought of Alysa’s bare shoulder and collarbones, her freckle— she pauses that line of thought and splashes more water.
Realizing she forgot to bring clothes with her, she puts on a robe and slowly pads back to her bed. Alysa, now fully dressed, smiles at her sheepishly. “I can’t find my shirt and I realized I’m wearing yours, is it okay if I borrow this for a bit? I promise I’ll give it back when it’s washed.”
“Yeah sure.” Gosh she still feels awkward. She notices a medal lanyard on Alysa’s hand, then to her horror finds the medal itself in her other hand. The two are no longer attached.
She gasps, tries not to laugh. It was not the right time to laugh. “Oh my god, you’re–”
“Yeah, I know,” Alysa sighs. “I found it under the bed already like this..”
Amber tries not to imagine how on earth Alysa’s medal ended up under her bed. She knows the committee has been getting flack over this recurring issue, but given the context, she’s not sure manufacturing issues were the cause this time.
“Just let your team know, pretty sure they can request a new one for you.”
Amber walks her to the door and is surprised when Alysa engulfs her in a tight hug. This is normal for them but after what just transpired she feels her skin burn from the contact, hoping that Alysa won’t notice.
“Thank you,” Alysa mumbles against her shoulder. She’s not sure what Alysa’s thanking her for but she enjoys the hug for one more beat, and the unspoken assurance that they’re still cool, before gently ushering the younger woman out the door.
…
She’s absolutely fucked up this time.
Though Alysa definitely has an impulsive streak, she likes to think she’s someone who thinks before doing something important, or anything with any form of consequences.
This time she definitely did not think before drinking two shots of whatever the hell that was. Because she failed to consider that the fact she rarely ever drinks will affect her tolerance, and being a lightweight will surely cause something like hooking up with a friend that I’m definitely attracted to but shouldn’t pursue.
She flops down on her bed, thankful that her room is surprisingly empty, and shouts against her pillow. It’s both out of sheer joy and absolute horror.
Amber won’t hate her, of course she won’t, but this fuck up will definitely trigger changes that Alysa is far from ready to deal with.
…
When Amber arrives at the dining hall, the girls are already at their usual seat. She first catches sight of Isabeau, who looks almost comical with an icepack against her head, flipping off the guys behind her and grumbling something to Alysa.
“Levito, you look rather swell,” Amber prods as she slides to her seat across the two.
“Eurgh please don’t start,” Isabeau rolls her eyes. “That cocktail was actual poison and my body is fighting it off my system.”
“It was barely a cocktail,” Alysa adds. She looks rather sharp for someone who also got blackout drunk last night, like nothing is amiss (but Amber notices how Alysa seems to avoid eye contact with her).
(It shouldn’t sting, given how it was Amber who all but kicked Alysa out of her room and insisted they forget about whatever happened last night.)
(She’s grown so used to Alysa’s eyes and attention on her that she can feel the absence acutely.)
“So what happened to you guys last night? Cause I passed out, apparently.” says Isabeau.
For the first time since Amber arrived, she and Alysa share a glance.
“I can’t remember what happened but…” Alysa hesitates, glances at her again. “I woke up in my bed this morning.”
“Me too,” Amber supplies, not exactly a lie like Alysa’s but certainly omitting some specific details. Alysa gives her a small nod, face unreadable.
Isabeau hums, oblivious to the wordless conversation going on between her two teammates. Her hangover must be rougher than it looks. Amber slides back to her role as the responsible senior with ease, checking Isabeau's headache and offering some vitamin supplements, telling her to drink more water and all that. Alysa seems to have zoned out.
She just hopes things won’t stay this stilted between them.
…
She feels spent by the time she heads back to her room. She’d been drilling her muscles into mastery just as she had done for the months, years even, leading up to this moment. She and Alysa shared idle talk on the rink, less tense than their interaction in the morning but shorter than their average conversation.
Her body is strong, and so was her jumps, but Amber still feels a bit unbalanced the entire day. She knows why, but she has no idea how to fix it aside from shoving it deep, deep down.
She stopped to grab a quick dinner and ate it on the rest of the walk. She chucks her clothes carelessly and changes into her fluffiest pajamas, plans a quiet evening of doomscrolling or rewatching some anime.
She’s sprawled on her bed when someone knocks on her door.
Amber peers through the peephole and sure enough, Alysa is standing in front of her door. Isabeau is with her, sans ice pack this time but still looking as irritable as earlier.
With a deep breath, Amber opens her door.
“Hey, Amber,” Alysa greets, the unspoken can we hang in your room clear in their eyes.
Amber chides herself for blushing. Isabeau is here so this invite is nothing but friendly, not that it should be anything else.
Isa falls asleep as soon as her head rests on Amber’s lap. Alysa puts on some music videos on her laptop and they sit on the carpet, focaccia sandwiches on a plate for them to share. It’s kpop MVs for tonight, which should help drown the tension.
Low techno beats fill Amber’s room as the first video starts playing. Alysa does her usual commentary but Amber can tell her heart isn’t in it.
Alysa’s fingers brush against hers as she picks up a sandwich.
They were three videos down when Amber chooses to rest her hand in the space between them. Alysa’s inches away, not moving any closer, as if waiting for Amber to close the distance, or perhaps it was nothing after all.
She eventually gathers enough courage to rest her palm against Alysa’s, feeling the warmth there seep into her own and hearing a small intake of breath from the woman next to her.
The moment is short-lived, as she remembers the reason she pushed Alysa away in the first place.
Well, not exactly that. Amber can admit now, without the panic from the morning, that all her reasons were flimsy. Yes, she’s worried about those things, but not enough that she’ll be reduced to this scared thing that she’s become instead of facing the problem head-on with good old fashioned (healthy) communication. Never in her adult years has she been this scared of wanting someone – the last time was when she was in denial as a teen, crushing on a girl back in her hometown, terrified of what it means.
But Alysa is different.
Amber has always wanted to be seen. Others would shy away from it but it’s the one thing that always works on her, makes her crave a person more and want eyes that bore into her, past flesh to stare straight to her soul, to well-guarded secrets. It’s hard for a top athlete like her to find people who get it – those who understand the idiosyncrasies of her lifestyle, how her passion and profession are married to each other.
The problem with Alysa is she knows with barely any words how Amber feels, being a woman in their sport at the same level and one who’s had rough patches of her own. She understands the pressure, how it feels to chase perfection and stumbling more times than they could count. She feels seen by Alysa and she knows she will seek for her more.
But even with how Amber knows almost everything about Alysa, she does not completely understand her.
It’s the same feeling she gets when her old friends move through their lives while Amber is still spending most of her time on the ice than doing anything else, the same way she’s been for most of her life. She keeps chasing the same impossible perfection because if she stops, there won’t be a point in doing the thing she’s best at. And Alysa is no longer grasping for it, fulfilled by other means that feel impossible to Amber.
She withdraws her hand and is silent for the rest of the evening.