Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1) - R.S. Grey Page 0,13
discovery.
“Oh? So soon? All right, okay. Just use that hand sanitizer and try to find Frederick. I’d love to show your meemaw a photo of you with British royalty.”
Oh my god. “Okay Mom. Sounds good.”
“Oh wait! It’s also says here that three weeks ago—”
I hung up before she could continue to ramble. I loved her, truly I did, but once she got going, there was no stopping her. It was either cut her off midsentence or turn into a mummified corpse out on that balcony.
By the time I made it back inside, Kinsley and Becca had exchanged their unicorn onesies for jean shorts and t-shirts. We started making our way down to the food court, and though my stomach was rumbling nonstop, I couldn’t help but focus on what my mother had just told me. If Freddie really was British royalty—wait, are dukes royal? Who cares. If Freddie really was a duke, the chances of him and I ever getting another moment alone were slim to none. He probably wouldn’t be hanging out around the Olympic village like other athletes. He’d be off sipping tea with baby George.
“Are you thinking about Freddie?” Kinsley asked as we stepped out of the elevator on the first floor.
I shrugged and lied. “No.”
“Because there really is something you should know before—”
I held up my hand. “Honestly, could everyone please stop talking about him?”
Between my mom and Kinsley, I’d never get him out of my head. I was in Rio to play the field, not get hung up on a guy after day one.
I’D GROWN USED to Kinsley’s popularity back in Los Angeles, but walking around with her in the village felt like accompanying Taylor Swift to the Grammys. When we stepped into the food court, heads snapped in our direction. Athletes, families, friends, coaches—it didn’t matter what country they were from—they all knew who Kinsley Bryant was, thanks to her marriage to Liam Wilder and her meteoric rise to soccer fame.
I slipped behind her and let her take the brunt of the attention. She delighted in it in a way I knew I never would. I liked the sponsorship opportunities and perks that went along with being an Olympic athlete, but I also enjoyed walking through the grocery store in sweatpants without having to worry that the paparazzi would be waiting to snap photos of me outside. Kinsley didn’t have that luxury.
“Better get used to this,” Kinsley said, glancing back at me over her shoulder. “Once you carry the flag in the opening ceremonies, people all over the world will know who you are.”
I bristled at the thought. When the Olympic committee had asked if I’d like to be one of the flag bearers during the opening ceremonies, I’d been honored and had agreed without a second thought. Now, as I followed Kinsley past tables and noticed the curious stares, I wondered if maybe I’d made a mistake. I wasn’t quite ready to exchange my relative obscurity for fame.
“Woah, watch it,” Becca said, pulling me out of the way just before I collided with a group of athletes weaving in the opposite direction.
The food court was a bona fide watering hole for sports stars of all countries. We headed toward a juice bar nestled near the back wall and I scanned over the crowd, taking it all in.
It was remarkably easy to spot the different sports; the telltale signs gave each one away. The rugby and weightlifting guys made their way through four or five different lines, stacking up their trays with enough sustenance to last a normal human a full year. A group of Serbian basketball players had taken up residence in the corner of the food court, towering over the crowd and making the team of Australian gymnasts sitting beside them look like hobbits.
Though there were clearly differences in body sizes, there was no denying one fact: every single person was young and in the best shape of their lives. It was no wonder there were so many rumors about the Olympic village; hundreds of attractive athletes with energy to spare were bound to get into a little bit of trouble.
“What kind of juice are you going to get?” Kinsley asked, pulling me out of my survey of the room. We were nearly at the front of the line and I hadn’t even glanced over the menu.
“I think I want a smoothie.”
She laughed. “Well there’s like fifty of them, so—”
Kinsley was cut off when the girl behind us in line squealed so