“Ow!” I blurt out, my palm flying to my brow. It stings where I touch, and I have a feeling I skinned myself on the rough surface of the wall. Maybe I’ll get a nice knot to go along with it.
“Oh, geez, you okay?” James is at my side in a blink, his hand over mine, pulling it from my forehead so he can inspect my wound. Theo, however, is tittering, and doing a poor job at hiding it. I let my hand drop completely and shake James’ attention off so I can glare at Theo. I thought we were making progress. I thought . . . well, what I thought was wrong, I guess, so it doesn’t matter.
“What? It was funny, you have to admit,” he defends.
I purse my lips as James scolds him with a “Hey!”
“Oh, come on. Andyou!” He punches out a laugh and holds his sides as he looks at James then waggles his finger. “Oh, geez. Who says that? Who are you?”
“I’m a decent human who doesn’t think it’s okay when someone gets hurt,” James says, puffing up his chest a little. This is clearly about something more than this moment, and it feels offensive that I’m in the middle of it.
I roll my eyes and pivot to head down the hall without a word, but before I get to the door for the pool, Theo catches up to me. He slips past me and leans with one palm flat against the wall and his feet near the other side, like a human blockade.
“Hold up. You’re not seriously going to do this again, alone.” His glare meets mine and we war through a long, silent breath.
“It’s not a big deal. Besides, you’re the one who told everyone I was swimming again, remember?” I shoot him a tight smile and fold my arms over my chest, my bag dangling from my shoulder.
Theo straightens and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy sigh. When his hand falls away, I’m left looking at a lost boy. I worry that we’re suddenly taking a massive step back, and my heart hurts.
“I’ll be fine, Theo. I promise,” I say with a nod, encouraging him to leave with James. I don’t really want him seeing this. I failed a lot last time, and it’s easier to keep at it if nobody is watching me punish myself in the water. I’m not an impressive sight.
I’m weak.
Theo leans to the side, glancing toward James, then his eyes come back to me and hold on for several quiet seconds. The longer we stand like this, the harder it is to feel my feet—to breathe. Anika is here, in our thoughts, tangled up with the idea of me getting in the pool. No matter what we do, there will always be a shared misery between us.
“I promise,” I repeat, allowing my hand to reach forward and tug at the front of his shirt, the cotton cool with sweat. It’s a bold move, one that causes his chin to drop to his chest and his eyes to stare at the imaginary line I left behind.
“We’re still on for Friday, yeah?”
I’m not prepared for James’ question. And when Theo’s eyes pop up expectantly, searing into me as he awaits an answer, I stumble.
“Oh, uh—”
“Cuz I really need some new lifting shoes if I’m going to keep up with this guy,” he says, clearly meaning Theo, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me since James uttered that question.
“Sure . . . I guess.” Those last two words come out in a gravelly whisper. They were meant for Theo, a small sign to let him know I’m not really looking forward to going, well, anywhere with James.
It’s you. It’s always you. I hate shopping but I’ll go with you.
My chest caves in and my breath goes short with instant panic when his eyes dim. He eventually looks down, shaking his head.
“Have a good swim,” he says, pushing off from the wall and skirting around me, wider than necessary, as if I’m toxic to touch. As if we shouldn’t share the same air.
What just happened? I lost something. Something I wasn’t even sure I had.
I look over my shoulder in time to see Theo push the door open wide as the two of them leave. Nobody softens its closure, and it slams shut, metal clanking against metal. The sound startles me even though I knew it was coming.
My eyes blink closed, and I draw in a long breath through my nose.
Somehow, I find my resolve and head to the pool. Theo’s hot and cold personality, which I can almost forgive because I understand his pain better than most, isn’t going to help me conquer my own demons. The trouble is I’ve started to feel things, and whatever I was feeling for Theo was growing greater than the guilt that’s been residing in my head and heart for months. I don’t want to stop those feelings, maybe even if they’re one-sided. Unrequited beats tormented.
By the time I’m at the pool’s edge, I’ve morphed everything that just happened with Theo into fuel. I kick my slides off and shimmy out of my sweatpants, then kneel to pull my goggles, earplugs, and cap from my bag. The entire time, I’m having imaginary arguments with Theo, conversations I will likely never really have. My textual therapist encourages these delusions, so why not indulge them now, when I’m alone.
“You know what? Fuck you, Theo Rothschild. Yeah. That’s right. Fuck you,” I mutter through gritted teeth, pointing at the air.
“Glad I came back for that.”
Shit.