Motion(Laws of Physics #1)(68)

I turned at the far wall just a second after he did. Head down, eyes closed, I put every joule of energy, every milligram of mass, every newton of force in my entire being into propelling myself to first.

Lungs on fire, my hand touched the wall and I immediately popped up, ripping off my goggles and looking to my right, to where Abram should have been. For a second, for a single, solitary moment in the eternity of time, my heart swelled with so much happiness and relief, I thought I might die. He was not there. He hadn’t yet finished. YES!

But then, after two more seconds and no Abram, I frowned. Glancing around, searching for him, I found him treading water in the middle of the pool.

I blinked. Shocked. Stunned. Horrified. “What-why?” I didn’t know what I wanted to ask first, and I was still struggling to catch my breath.

He was also breathing hard, also working to catch his, watching me with veiled eyes, too far away for me to search his face for answers.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice pitched high and slightly hysterical.

He shook his head. “I forfeit.”

“You-you- you what?” Unthinkingly, I waded toward him, my dismayed stare transfixed on his extremely cool one.

“You win, I’ll leave.” Shrugging, he gave the water a languid stroke, bringing him closer, but only incidentally. I could see now that his destination was the pool steps, not me.

“No!” I darted to the side, putting myself in his path, forcing him to backtrack so as not to collide with me. “No, I don’t win! It’s not winning if you give up.”

“What’s the problem? You win.” His glare had returned, his dark eyebrows descending over equally dark eyes.

“You forfeit, that’s giving up. Not the same as me winning!” My voice was now a frantic, enraged whisper. I slammed the water with my hands, splashing it everywhere. I didn’t care, angry tears were making it impossible for me to see.

God, I just . . . I just . . . I couldn’t remember ever being so angry before.

“What the hell is your problem?” Once again, Abram was speaking through his teeth.

“You’re my problem.” I shoved my face into his. “You don’t forfeit—i.e. give up—in the last leg of the last lap. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh? Really? Was that shitty of me?” Likewise, he shoved his face forward, not that he had much room to move.

“Yes. Very shitty,” I whispered, but then swallowed the last word because the current of the water—waves caused by our race—pushed me forward. My front knocked into and then slid against his, the slippery friction like a KO punch to my good sense and a wake-up call to everything else.

Him. His eyes. His body. Just . . . yesssss. Yes. The texture, the warmth, the hard planes, the everything. My eyes fell to his lips, pink lusciousness framed by the black shadow of his scruff, a blushing rose among thorns, and I could not look away.

Abram sucked in a hissing breath, his hands immediately coming to my arms and separating us by gently—and firmly—moving me away. But he only moved me six or seven centimeters. We were still plenty close. But not close enough. But still plenty.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” he growled, sounding frustrated and furious. But the question also sounded like a plea.

Still transfixed by his mouth, I shook my head, blinking, breathing just as hard as I’d been when I’d finished the race.

Lie.

Walk away.

Say one of your anytime-phrases.

These were all signposts on the logical path forward. But I didn’t do any of these. I couldn’t. I was caught in some unknown field, propelled and shredded by an unidentified force, not contact, neither gravitational, magnetic, nor electrical.

Struggling against it made it worse. Ignoring it made it stronger. The only thing I hadn’t tried was accepting it. But I can’t.

“I can’t . . .”

“You can’t what?”

A wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows, something flaring behind his eyes as they drilled into mine. He released my arms, pushing his fingers through the fall of hair on his forehead, pushing it away with both hands, and then he waited. Glaring at me, his arms falling to his sides, standing still while his chest rose and fell with his slowing breaths.

He waited. He waited for me.

And I was such a mess, wanting to rage and laugh and cry; wanting him to pull me close, and dreading what would happen if he did; wanting to rewind time to the moment he’d stopped swimming so I could also stop and scream at him to finish, so I could win, so I could tell him the truth.

Now we were here and “by forfeit” was not how a bargain with the universe was won. This was not winning. This was neither winning nor losing, which meant I was back at square one. Which was losing.

I felt my chin wobble and I firmed it, pressing my lips together to stop the revealing involuntary waver, but it was too late. He’d seen it. I knew at once because he took a deep breath, the force of anger in his glare dwindling to merely mystified uncertainty.

“Lisa. What are you doing? Why are you doing this?” he asked with impossible tenderness. “You win. You don’t want me. I’m done. I’m leaving.”

“It doesn’t feel like winning.” My voice was unsteady and my words were unplanned, so were the hot tears that spilled over my cheeks. I’m a mess!