Chapter 6

I hiccup softly, trying to hold in the sobs clawing up my throat. Immediately, my phone rings, and I look out the small airplane window to see Bryce watching me.

“Hey,” my voice is barely a whisper.

“Babe, don’t let my last memory for three months be of tears streaming down your face.”

“You can’t even see me.”

“Yes, I can, but even more so, I feel you.”

“How is that possible?”

“Not really sure, maybe something to do with the fact that I’m fucking crazy about you?”

I touch my lips where he kissed me goodbye not ten minutes ago. He and Dean brought us to the airport and got passes to walk us to the gate. Unlike last week, this was not going to end with Bryce coming with me. This was the goodbye for months, the one I dreaded and tried to avoid, but when we woke up this morning in his room, ignorance was no longer an option. The time was here. He held me close and made love to me quietly. His parents were out of the house, so we had privacy. All morning, he stayed as close as possible. At lunch with my parents, he sat so I was practically in his lap.

Even though my emotions were all over the place, a small part of me started to simmer with excitement. In three days, we’d be given our assignments for the next six weeks. My mind was already shooting on all cylinders with ideas for articles.

“There’s the light that shines.” Bryce smiles at me. “Even from here, I can see your face starting to brighten. This trip is going to be once in a lifetime, Dev. I may have been a prime ass about the first location, but it was never about your future. It was always about your safety.”

“I know, and I’m really glad we didn’t have to fight about it.”

“There was no fight. You weren’t going. Period. End of story.”

“Bryce, don’t start an argument you won’t win.”

“Oh, babe, I’d win, and that’s why I took drastic measures.”

“Don’t tarnish our goodbye by being cocky,” I warn.

“Not being cocky if it’s true.”

“Bryce—”

“You happy?”

Even though his face is slightly fuzzy through the distance and the glass, I can tell his eyes are shining.

“Yes, I’m happy.”

“Good, now go kick some Olympic ass. Call me tonight from the hotel.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he says and hangs up.

The flight attendant goes through the pre-flight instructions, and the whole time I stare at that window. We don’t lose eye contact until the plane backs out, and Quinn grabs my hand. I hold on until we’re safely in the air.

Once we hit cruising altitude, we dislodge, and she brings out the folder we’ve been working on for the last two weeks. Over the next few hours, we get acquainted with every summer Olympic sport and the rules of the games. Since we have no idea which contenders will be in Rio during our stay, we have no athletic bios. But I have a pretty good idea of the basics.

Once we land in Miami and get to our hotel, we’re both exhausted. Instead of going out, we decide on room service and a movie. I’m rummaging through my overnight bag when a deep male voice fills the room.

“What the hell?” I scream and look at the door. The voice rumbles again, causing me to jump. “Who the fuck is that, and where is it coming from?”

“Olá, como vai você.” Quinn repeats the phrase, pressing a button on her phone. “That is Rafael. He’s going to help us learn Portuguese.”

“Rafael?”

“I named him Rafael because it sounds sexy. It’s a translation program I downloaded.”

I can’t help but laugh. Only she would rename a computer generated program to sound sexy. “Well, he scared the shit out of me. He sounded like he was here in the room.”

“Great acoustics on my phone. We need to learn some key phrases to communicate with the locals.”

“Quinn, we’re going to be with teams and guides.”

“Yes, but it’s smart to be prepared. Now, come here. Let’s do this.” She pats the bed next to her, and I plop down.

“‘Olá, como vai você’ is ‘Hello, how are you’?”

We both repeat it a few times and take turns asking Rafael about popular general statements.

Good morning.—Bom Dia.

Good Evening.—Boa Noite.

Where is the restroom?—Onde é o banheiro.

“These are boring. Let’s get to the good stuff.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me wickedly. “Asshole!” she shouts into the phone.

“Idiota.”

“Jackass.”

”Asno.”

“Bullshit.”

“Besteira.”

She looks at me expectantly and holds the phone close to my mouth. “Fuck,” I say loudly.

“Porra.”

“Bitch.”

“Cadela.”

“Damn.”

“Droga.”

“Dick.”

“Pênis.”

“Looks like some words are universal.” Quinn giggles.

We spend the next hour playing with Rafael until my phone rings. Bryce’s face pops up on the screen, and my heart starts to flutter.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Devon,” he sighs, “did you forget to call?”

“No, I was going to call before we started our movie. When we got here, we sort of got sidetracked.”

“Douche!” Quinn yells, and Rafael answers, “Ducha.”

“Who the hell is that?” Bryce practically growls.

I tell him about our new translator.

“Your parents confiscated your fake ID, so you’re forced to sit in your room and learn how to cuss in Portuguese? That’s a new one.”

“To be fair, we started out with key phrases in case we had to communicate with locals that don’t speak English. And my parents did not confiscate my ID. I’ll get it back.”

My parents have known about my ID since I went to college, never really caring. As soon as Nate and I turned eighteen, we’ve been able to drink in social situations. As long as I promised to always be careful and responsible, they’ve never questioned me having it. Quinn’s parents are equally as cool, but they all made us turn them over before we left the country.

He continues to laugh while talking, “I know you will, babe. It was a safety thing.”

“Well, the legal drinking age in Brazil is eighteen anyways.”

“Yes, but I’m hoping you’re so wrapped up with work that partying will be the last thing on your mind. I don’t like to think about what could happen down there.”

His voice changes to serious, and I know my protective Bryce is about to come out. “No need to worry. We’ve talked about this.”

“Can we eat something?” Quinn interrupts purposely, rubbing her stomach dramatically.

“Quinn’s hungry.”

“Call me before you go to bed. Don’t forget. Love you.” He hangs up, and my heart skips a beat. Will I always have this reaction to just his words?

Quinn and I are not the only ones who can’t disguise our excitement when we step off the bus. There are a lot of wide eyes and gaping mouths when we see the wonders around us. Our hotel is in close proximity of Olympic Village and the host facilities for the Olympic Games.

A chill runs up my spine, and goose bumps break out over my skin at the pure magnitude of this moment. In a little over a year, hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world will walk on this very spot. Quinn meets my gaze and shows the same reaction.

I’d love to grab my camera from my bag, but I settle on my phone to get a few snapshots. After a few moments, we are ushered into the hotel and directed to a large conference room. The table’s set up with colored packets and name badges. The packets in front of me and the three people to my right are all blue, which I assume means this is my team.

Professor Grant welcomes us and explains that we are indeed seated next to our team members. Quinn scowls, clearly unhappy about being separated. I scrunch my nose, letting her know I’m not pleased either. To my horror, a throat clears, and Professor Grant is eyeing us.

I sit up straighter and try to control the blush creeping up my cheeks. He goes back to reviewing the agenda when the door opens. I literally gasp out loud when some of the biggest names in news walk in. The hair on my arms stands when Shana Willis stops behind the four of us on the blue team.

My eyes meet Quinn’s and hers are as wide as mine. We absolutely admire Shana. Sometimes, when we’re in crazy moods, we’ll prance around the apartment using our fists as microphones and pretend to cover a breaking news story. Usually, it’s after we’ve had a few drinks.

My hands start to tremble when she taps me on the shoulder to introduce herself. I try my best to be normal but fail miserably.

“I-I-I’m Devon Willis.” Oh shit! “I mean, I’m Devon H-H-Harris. You’re Shana Willis.”

Her lips tip up as she takes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Devon Harris.”

I slink back in my seat and watch her introduce herself to my other team members. This is where I learn their names: Eric, Kenny, and Crystal.

The squeaky voice across the table catches my attention, and I watch Quinn blubber her own introduction to Bill Tames. I completely feel her pain. This man survived an attack overseas, and instead of heading back to the safety of the U.S., he stayed and interviewed survivors and families of the fallen. We both hit the jackpot with our professional mentors.

Shana pulls up a chair, and we review the information in the folders. A few hours later, we’re dismissed to go to our rooms and get settled in our home away from home for the next six weeks.

Quinn and I contain ourselves until we are closed in our room before we both unleash our excitement. After dissecting every detail of our meetings, and the new people we’ll be working with, she goes downstairs to make some calls.

I shoot a quick text to my parents, promising to call later, and then dial Bryce. He picks up on the first ring.

“Babe.”

“You are not going to believe what I have to tell you!” I jump right into my day, trying not to miss any details.

He listens until I’m winded from talking so fast. There’s humor in his voice when he finally gets a chance to talk as I stop to take a breath.

“So happy for you. You’re going to take this opportunity by storm.”

“Really? You think so?”

“Absolutely. I couldn’t be happier. Damn, I’m going to miss this.”

The excitement disappears, remembering he leaves at four am tomorrow for Rhode Island. Our communication will be severely limited with our schedules.

“Don’t do it, Devon. I can feel your attitude changing. Don’t lose that spunk.”

I take in a deep breath and clench the phone tighter. “I’m not going to let you miss this. I’ll make a point to do as many videos as possible and send them to your phone. You can watch them when you’re not busy.”

He laughs again, and it hits straight to my heart. I wish I could record that sound.

“All right, that’s a good plan. Now, tell me more about what you’re doing, hotshot. What’s the plan?”

I read him the agendas and different areas we’ll be going. We stay on the phone a while, me not wanting to let him go. Finally, he makes me hang up when my words start to mumble from exhaustion.

“Behave yourself, Devon Marie, and remember, I’m your number one fan,” he tells me before whispering he loves me and hangs up. The last thought I have is “I’m not doing this for me; I’m doing it for us.”