Bas stood inside the lounge doorway, overcome with a tsunami of too old for this shit. A giant room packed full of overhyped athletes, speakers pumping out dubstep that rattled his bones, and condoms being pocketed left and right. He was generally easygoing, never taking himself too seriously, but he was here to work, to backup Alex, and to make sure they won relay gold. Not babysit a rave. After a day of travel, pageantry, and avoiding Jacob, he just wanted to crash. Close his eyes, forget the day, and rewind to the night before in his mind, the only place where he’d let those memories live. He did not want to spend his evening here, reminded instead of a prior opening night gone wrong. As it was, he’d already glared off a pair of French swimmers and an Aussie pole vaulter he’d slept with four years ago.