His blue eyes capture mine. “Are you sure?”
“Enough to give us a shot.”
He leans closer, pressing his forehead to mine. “I want to try too. I’ve never felt like this before.”
I settle my cheek against his. It’s smooth and warm, and he smells perfect, like cedar and aftershave. Like him. He squeezes my hand.
“I love your pajamas,” I whisper in his ear.
“I knew you would.” He smirks a little. “I got them for you.”
“You did?”
“I kinda had to. I had nothing to wear. I mean, I generally sleep naked.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I slap his arm, feeling my face flush red at the thought of him in bed in the buff. He goes on, “I like your pajamas too.”
I wore a form-fitting black jumpsuit with little cats on it…and some cat ears on top of my head. Yup, I am Catwoman.
He stretches an arm around the back of our bench, caressing my shoulder. I inch closer to his side. It feels so good to be curled up against him again. His warmth makes me let out a sigh.
Since I started us on this path, I decide to take the next step. Leaning toward him, I press my mouth to his. My fingers draw the letter M on his chest, and I hear his sharp intake of breath. We fit perfectly.
He pulls away to look at my face, a lock of his hair falling into his eyes. I push it to the side.
“So are we together now?” he asks.
I keep drawing my initials—MK MK MK—all over him with my pointer finger, marking him as mine. “Like you’re my boyfriend?”
He answers with another long kiss, his lips devouring me like I’m dessert.
“Will you go to prom with me?” I ask him. “You know, if our race ends in time?”
He takes my hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses two of my knuckles, sending shivers up my spine. “Yes. But only if you dress up as Catwoman again.”
I lean against his side, and we watch the people of our small town walk around together, enjoying life, and I smile, knowing ours is only getting started.
Sharks and Minnows
One more chance.
This is my final opportunity to qualify for the Olympic trials.
Sure, I’m sure I’ll become a better swimmer in college, and I can try for the trials again in four years. But you only live once, and I am going to give this my all.
Two days before the meet, Coach drives the seven of us in a van to Cincinnati. Only Levi has qualified for Omaha, so technically he doesn’t need to race, but he needs the practice and experience in long course. That’s part of the reason we’re leaving early—to get some practice time in the big pool.
I check Twitter during the ride. Several swimming accounts are saying things like, Last chance weekend for the #OlympicTrials! If you or your swimmer gets a cut, tweet us!
Sitting next to me, Levi peeks at my phone, sees what I’m looking at, and whispers in my ear, “Deep breaths.”
Coach takes us out for Italian the night before the meet so we can salad and carbo load. At the restaurant, Levi stretches an arm around the back of my chair, keeping me close. We’ve been seriously dating for about a month now, and everything about it feels right. Part of me wishes we’d started seeing each other years ago, but the other half is glad we waited until we were older and mature enough to handle the responsibility, to ensure our friendship stayed strong.
Susannah is ridiculously excited we’re finally together. She keeps squealing and clapping her hands, which is getting on Coach Josh’s last nerve. Rolling his eyes, he rips a breadstick in two, demonstrating what he thinks of his swimmers dating. I don’t care though. My muscles feel great, I’m eating ravioli, and my boyfriend is rubbing my thigh under the table. It doesn’t get much better than this.
Back at the hotel, Coach pulls me aside to sit down on a sofa in the bustling lobby. I figure he’s going to give me a lecture about swimcest, but it turns out he wants to discuss the meet.
“Maggie,” he says. “We need to talk about tomorrow.” Coach claps his hands together, then unclasps them nervously. “Listen, I entered you in the prelims for 400 and 800 freestyle.”
“What?” I say. I never swim that far in races. I’m no sprinter, but I wouldn’t say I’m a distance specialist either.
So that’s why it’s surprising when Coach says, “I think you are maturing into a distance specialist.”
“What?”
“Your 200 free is getting better and better, especially in long course. I want to stretch it out even more. Let’s try it.”
“Why’d you wait until now to tell me?”
“You overanalyze things. I wanted to throw you in the pool tomorrow morning and see how it goes. No thinking.”
“But won’t this wear me out for 200 back and free?”
“Maybe, but I think you’ll have a better chance in a longer race than in either of those. So how about it?”
I’ve been with Coach Josh ten years. I trust him with my life. “All right.”
He smiles. “Good. Now off to bed with you.” He points over his shoulder at the hotel bar. “I’m gonna try to catch some of the Braves game.”
I ride the elevator to my room. When I get there I find Levi sitting on the floor outside the door, one hand buried in his long hair while the other is holding a loved, worn copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.
He started the series over again.
I slide to the carpet beside him, pecking his cheek. He turns his mouth to meet mine and we share sweet, soft kisses.
“What did Coach want?”
I wave a hand. “I’m out of the pool. I don’t want to talk swimming tonight. I just want to spend time with you.”
“Hot tub, then?” he asks with a tempting smile.
We change into swimsuits and meet Susannah and Jason down at the hotel pool. Swimmers from all over the country are here, and of course they are hogging the hot tub. While Jason starts a noisy cannonball contest, Levi and I stretch out on a lounge chair, curling up under an extra-large beach towel to sneak kisses. We spend a lot of time doing this lately. We love lying on the trampoline in his backyard, kissing through sunsets and cuddling under twinkling stars.
His fingers brush the waistband of my bikini bottoms, making me feel naughty. I’m glad I bought those condoms at the Quick Pick, even if it was the most embarrassing moment in the history of the entire universe.
I lean close to Levi’s ear. “You would not believe what happened to me,” I say, recounting how I ran into Dad while buying them. I end the tale with, “And then Dad basically said, ‘Condoms on me!’”
Levi, of course, dies laughing at my story. I tickle his stomach in retaliation.
“Stop, stop!” he cries, grabbing my hands.
“For a price. One kiss.”