Knock You Off Your Feet

The closing ceremonies had just ended, and my hand found Shaun’s as we walked back to our rooms to grab our bags, our jackets conflicting with each other. Mine was white and red, while his was dark blue with white here and there.

“So the Burton US Open’s going to Vermont in a week or two,” he said to me as we avoided some photographers. “And I expect to see you there.”

“Where exactly am I gonna be for that week or two? You don’t expect me to… just leave you?” I flexed my fingers and looked up at him. “I think I’m gonna stick with you, Spaz.”

“What’re you suggesting, Case? You can come home with me, that’s cool, believe me, I don’t mind. But won’t your parents?” He waved to a friend who was heading in the opposite direction. “And you have a house in Vermont, right? Your own place? What’s gonna happen to that?”

“What I’m suggesting, Shaun,” I said as I turned to walk backwards and hold his hands as I did so, “is that we just stick together until after that event. And then we can hang out in Vermont at my place and figure out what’s best for this relationship.” I smiled. “Because we both know that it’s gonna last longer than a month or two.”

“Hell yes,” he sighed. “I just don’t wanna make anyone panicky; I don’t want people thinking we’re rushin’ in or anything.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I grabbed it, noticing I had an incoming call from my coach. “Hey there,” I said, changing back to my original stance, walking next to Shaun.

“Casey! Get your ass into Shaun’s room! Right now!” With that, she hung up, and I began running.

“Hey, hey! What’s the rush?” Shaun held onto his hat as we ran into his building and up to his door, which I opened with the key card I had stolen from him. I went up to the TV and turned it on, flipping over to MTV.

“And we’ve got a new video to premiere, right?” Pete Wentz, host of FNMTV, asked someone. “Yeah, we do. This is Casey Burgess of Team Canada and Shaun White of Team USA, both gold medallists,” he said, pausing so the crowd could cheer. “And they recorded this to help Haiti. Here they are, ‘Waitin’ On the World to Change.’”

The screen faded to black as the music began, and as the words started, there were scenes of President Bush, leaders from the Middle East, and the images of utter devastation in Haiti. The screen then changed to a clip of Shaun and I in the studio, dancing and singing. I looked up at Shaun, who had the faintest trace of a smile on his face – the kind of smile that he wore when he was living in a memory.

The video ended with my voice fading out and a picture of a little Haitian kid looking into the camera and smiling.

“Well, guys, what’d you think?” Pete asked, dragging me out of the world presented to us in the video. Cheers erupted, scaring Pete. People were standing up and clapping, mouths wide open as they screamed. “I guess you guys liked it,” Pete chuckled. “Anyways, that’s all for this week. See you again next week!”

Shaun’s hand ran up and down my right arm absentmindedly. “That was so awe… friggin’… God, I wish I knew more adjectives.”

“Cos nothing suffices, right?” I placed my left hand on his right one, and I felt him nod. “I couldn’t think of a better way to end these games.”

“I can,” he said, turning me to face him so he could kiss me. “C’mon, we should get going.” He twirled a piece of my hair around his index finger. “You’re coming with me to my house, right?”