Living Life On The Edge

Katie’s fingers tap the fridge, counting the champagne bottles Blake has already killed celebrating the gold. Blake crowds her against the cool metal, medal cold between their chests, breath hot against Katie’s neck. "Winner takes whatever she wants," Blake says, yanking Katie’s shirt up. The fridge handle digs into Katie’s spine. "Winner waits." Katie catches Blake’s wrist. "I edge you first. Right here, clothes on, legs spread, until you can’t remember your own name—let alone a race." She smiles against Blake’s ear. "Slowest lap you’ve ever run." She slips her thigh between Blake’s, pressing exactly where it’ll hurt most not to move. Blake’s pupils bloom wide. Her victorious grin falters, replaced by that wired, trembling hunger she usually hides behind a sprint. She nods once, sharp. Katie rewards her with the ghost of a grind, then pulls away, leaving Blake chasing air. The kitchen clock ticks loud as a starting gun that never fires.