of oatmeal and fruit was replaced with waffles and peanut butter.
And one small white pill.
Swimmers are always getting injured or sick, I remind myself. They take time off, and then come back. No. Big. Deal. In the meantime, there are bonuses to not swimming today. I can eat donuts and not worry about an upset stomach.
And I can sneak out to the parking lot and surprise Connor.
I’ve always had my own pre-race routine, and that hasn’t changed since we’ve been dating. Before warm-ups, I turn on my iPod and zone out to my music. I like to visualize the whole day—each race I’m competing in, who I’m competing against, how I see it going. Connor sets up his towel in our area, but he hates all the nervous energy before things get started. So he disappears—chills in the locker room, if there is one, or out in his car if Coach isn’t watching. Honestly, I don’t pay attention because I’m in my own world. But today, instead of being a competitor, I can be his girlfriend.
I duck out of the bleacher area and wander up front toward the parking lot. The Horizon team travels on a school bus, but Connor has permission to drive himself because sometimes his club team is on a different schedule. His car is parked in the far corner under the shade of a tree. Sure enough, as I get closer, I see his feet sticking up in the backseat. Smiling, I tiptoe my way to the back door, then yank it open. “Surprise!”
He jerks back, thumping his head on the window. I get one flash of his face and then he’s bent over, coughing and choking. He’s got something cupped in one hand, and he’s holding a water bottle with the other.
“Sorry!” I squat down as he sits up, his face red under the tan. “You okay?”
He takes a swallow of water. “Damn it, Abby!” His voice is hoarse. He finishes eating whatever is in his hand and takes another long drink.
I’m still squatting there, but now I feel stupid and I’m guessing my cheeks are as red as his. He doesn’t look too happy to see me. “Sorry,” I say again.
He sits up straighter and wipes a hand across his mouth. “It’s okay. You surprised me. Nearly choked on a shark.”
Now I see the bag of gummy shark power gels on the floor. Connor eats them like Skittles.
“Sorry for the shark attack,” I say, hoping for a smile.
He still looks pissed.
There’s a funny heat building behind my eyes.
Tears? Really?
I stand, tilting my head to one side so my hair covers my face. “Anyway. Sorry. I just…thought I’d do the girlfriend thing today since…”
Sudden understanding changes his expression.
“Oh, right.” He gestures me forward. “Come here.”
“No, you gotta get ready.”
“Come. Here.” He grins, and then I do too, because now he’s looking at me the way he usually does when we’re in the backseat of his car. He slides over to make room. I sit next to him, the seat cracked but soft, the smell of chlorine oozing up from the leather.
He slides an arm around my shoulder. “So what’s the girlfriend thing?”
I hear the tease in his voice and blush. “I’m not going to show you now. You need to conserve your energy.”
He laughs. “I got plenty of energy.”
“You’ll need it.” I’m thinking of Alec; he’s had a great week of practice, but I don’t say that to Connor.
His chest muscles puff up behind me. “You don’t think I can win?”
“Of course you can win,” I say. “You will win. Your legs good today?”
“Feeling strong.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll win some blue for you.”
“I’d rather win it for myself,” I murmur.
“It’s one meet, Ab. That’s it.” He pauses. “Right?”
His eyes are a light shade of blue—nearly see-through—and it’s the perfect color for Connor. No murky depths—just clear and uncomplicated. Like him. I force a smile. “Yeah, it’s only one meet.”
He smiles back; those are the words he wants to hear. He starts packing up and I wait while he zips his bag closed and
And one small white pill.
Swimmers are always getting injured or sick, I remind myself. They take time off, and then come back. No. Big. Deal. In the meantime, there are bonuses to not swimming today. I can eat donuts and not worry about an upset stomach.
And I can sneak out to the parking lot and surprise Connor.
I’ve always had my own pre-race routine, and that hasn’t changed since we’ve been dating. Before warm-ups, I turn on my iPod and zone out to my music. I like to visualize the whole day—each race I’m competing in, who I’m competing against, how I see it going. Connor sets up his towel in our area, but he hates all the nervous energy before things get started. So he disappears—chills in the locker room, if there is one, or out in his car if Coach isn’t watching. Honestly, I don’t pay attention because I’m in my own world. But today, instead of being a competitor, I can be his girlfriend.
I duck out of the bleacher area and wander up front toward the parking lot. The Horizon team travels on a school bus, but Connor has permission to drive himself because sometimes his club team is on a different schedule. His car is parked in the far corner under the shade of a tree. Sure enough, as I get closer, I see his feet sticking up in the backseat. Smiling, I tiptoe my way to the back door, then yank it open. “Surprise!”
He jerks back, thumping his head on the window. I get one flash of his face and then he’s bent over, coughing and choking. He’s got something cupped in one hand, and he’s holding a water bottle with the other.
“Sorry!” I squat down as he sits up, his face red under the tan. “You okay?”
He takes a swallow of water. “Damn it, Abby!” His voice is hoarse. He finishes eating whatever is in his hand and takes another long drink.
I’m still squatting there, but now I feel stupid and I’m guessing my cheeks are as red as his. He doesn’t look too happy to see me. “Sorry,” I say again.
He sits up straighter and wipes a hand across his mouth. “It’s okay. You surprised me. Nearly choked on a shark.”
Now I see the bag of gummy shark power gels on the floor. Connor eats them like Skittles.
“Sorry for the shark attack,” I say, hoping for a smile.
He still looks pissed.
There’s a funny heat building behind my eyes.
Tears? Really?
I stand, tilting my head to one side so my hair covers my face. “Anyway. Sorry. I just…thought I’d do the girlfriend thing today since…”
Sudden understanding changes his expression.
“Oh, right.” He gestures me forward. “Come here.”
“No, you gotta get ready.”
“Come. Here.” He grins, and then I do too, because now he’s looking at me the way he usually does when we’re in the backseat of his car. He slides over to make room. I sit next to him, the seat cracked but soft, the smell of chlorine oozing up from the leather.
He slides an arm around my shoulder. “So what’s the girlfriend thing?”
I hear the tease in his voice and blush. “I’m not going to show you now. You need to conserve your energy.”
He laughs. “I got plenty of energy.”
“You’ll need it.” I’m thinking of Alec; he’s had a great week of practice, but I don’t say that to Connor.
His chest muscles puff up behind me. “You don’t think I can win?”
“Of course you can win,” I say. “You will win. Your legs good today?”
“Feeling strong.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll win some blue for you.”
“I’d rather win it for myself,” I murmur.
“It’s one meet, Ab. That’s it.” He pauses. “Right?”
His eyes are a light shade of blue—nearly see-through—and it’s the perfect color for Connor. No murky depths—just clear and uncomplicated. Like him. I force a smile. “Yeah, it’s only one meet.”
He smiles back; those are the words he wants to hear. He starts packing up and I wait while he zips his bag closed and
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