Hold My Breath(6)

What you’re doing can’t be half as hard as this.

That’s what her text said. It made me smile, because how stupid is a water-bottle stunt. Then I spent the next hour trying to get my damned water bottle to land upright on the floor. I just stuck it, and I refuse to pick it up now because that was really, really hard. I even threw my hands up when I did and let out a whoop—all alone, in my room, at sunrise. I whispered the whoop. And then I mimicked the sound of a roaring crowd.

Hats off to the water-bottle flippers of YouTube.

I miss Holly. I miss the late shift, and putting in stupid hours just trying to get ahead. I miss eating dinner out of the vending machine and talking about the cute doctors that I never really want to notice me, but that bring me some sort of feeling of normalcy—like maybe, just maybe, I’ll kiss a man again someday.

I took a sabbatical from the UV Mercy Nursing Program. When I get back, Holly will be on staff, and I’ll still be a senior. Damned fear of regret, though—it’s a powerful thing. I lit up the NCAA my junior year. All of those times when I was too slow didn’t matter now that I was faster than everyone. I was fast enough when it counted—fast enough to swim for gold.

Fast enough to swim for my father.

My dad runs one of the most elite training camps in the country. Four years ago, the US team came through here on their way to glory. It isn’t so much the pool, which is fairly dated, or the location—it’s my father that makes it the best. This year, he aims to be one of the coaches. I’m his ticket, and I’m all right with that because I couldn’t imagine going with anyone else in my corner.

Will…I guess he’s the wild card. Or maybe he’s the insurance. If my dad can make him a winner too, then there really isn’t a better choice to head the team against the world.

The pound on the door is harsh and fast. I’ve been up for more than an hour, but it still startles me as if I was roused from a dead slumber.

“Rise and shine. We’ve got some serious conditioning to do,” my dad says, his voice trailing off as he moves down the hallway.

“I’m up!” I yell, my voice sounding defensive, like a teenager rather than a twenty-three-year-old who’s had her own apartment and knows how to pay her bills on time.

I glance at the water bottle on my floor then push it over on its side with my foot.

“Half as hard as this, huh?” I chuckle to myself.

I grab my packed bag and slide my feet into my flip-flops before opening my bedroom door. My mom ordered a mattress so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the futon now residing in my old bedroom. It’s an odd mix of things that used to define me in this den-slash-guest room my mom transformed the space into the second I signed a lease near the university. It didn’t make sense to spend the money on a place while I was here, especially since it’s temporary, so for the next few months, this time warp is my home.

Dad is already in the driveway with the car engine running, and my mom is holding a power bar out for me to take along with one of her special drinks.

“I can drive myself,” I say, ripping the bar open and taking a bite before leaning into her and kissing her cheek.

“Yeah, but he likes this idea of you and him doing this together. Humor him. Underneath that tough-guy persona, he’s scared shitless,” she says with a wink.

My mouth tugs up on one side.

“Fine,” I sigh, feigning frustration with a roll of my eyes.

“Good girl. Now drink your shake. You’re going to need the energy,” she says, shoving the smoothie into my right hand. It’s green, and her shakes make me gag, but they seem to do the trick.

I tilt the glass and take a big gulp, turning before she sees my disgusted face. My dad has his music on when I get in the car, and I’m hit with a second whammy—Abba’s greatest hits.

“Are you and mom trying to make me quit?” I ask, raising a brow.

“What? Who doesn’t like Abba?” he says, turning the music up and singing along, off-key as always. I shake my head and smile, looking out my window while I force the rest of my drink down, chasing it with what’s left of my protein bar so I have some hope that I don’t burp the awful flavor up over the next four hours.

When we get to the club, a few other cars are in the lot. I know most of the swimmers. A lot of them aren’t really ready for this, but one or two have a shot at some of the distance trials. There’s only one that I’m interested in, though. And by interested, I mean interested in avoiding.

Will’s already warming up when I pass by the glass doors to dump my things in the women’s locker room. It’s going to be impossible not to look at him. I came to terms with that fact sometime around three in the morning. I’m going to have to get used to looking at him; I need to become numb to the similarities. Only now that I’m here, at the pool, faced with the reality of actually looking at him, I’m not so sure I’m strong enough.

I sit on the bench and let my head fall back against the metal locker door behind me, pulling my phone into my palm. I text Holly.

I think I made a mistake.

That’s the thing I love most about my best friend; I can be raw and honest with her. She’s one of a handful of people I’ve always been able to cut through the bullshit with and get right to the heart of things. The other two people were Evan and Will.

My phone buzzes with her response.