Coming Up for Air

by Miranda Kenneally

  “Are you guys going to start dating?”

  Susannah shrugs. “I’d be into it if he is. He’s pretty hot, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “I have an idea! I’ll tell him I need to sleep in his room tonight because you and Levi want alone time.”

  I inhale sharply, loving the idea of spending the night with Levi. But I don’t want it to interfere with my race tomorrow. On the other hand, being in his arms helps me sleep better.

  “Okay,” I say with a smile, as my heart begins to race.

  Susannah checks her reflection in the mirror, then opens the hotel room door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

  A minute later, a knock sounds on the door. With a deep breath, I open it to reveal a barefoot Levi in track pants and a soft gray T-shirt.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I reply quietly.

  “Susannah sent me over. She said something about you wanting to be alone with me?” he flirts.

  I give him a teasing smile. “I need another lesson.”

  “Oh yeah?” He steps into the room, dead bolting the door behind him, and in less time than it takes to swim a fifty-meter sprint, he has our pajamas off and strewn across the carpet. He lays me back on the bed, his hands depressing the pillow on either side of me as he kisses my lips. The minty taste of toothpaste fills my mouth. His weight presses between my legs, and in no time at all he has me panting. Panting, and wanting more.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to do it tonight?” I whisper.

  His eyes meet mine. “I’d love to, but I don’t want you to have any regrets tomorrow during the meet. It’s too important.”

  “I won’t regret it, I promise, it’s just…”

  “It’s just what?” he asks sweetly.

  I weave a hand through his blond hair, taking him all in. “I want it to be good for you.”

  His eyebrows furrow. “You’re worried about that?”

  “Yeah, I mean, you’ve been with other girls.”

  He kisses me deeply. “You’re the best kisser I’ve ever had. The best hugger. The best hand holder. The best everything. It’s because of you—because we’re right for each other.”

  I sigh deeply, nuzzling my face in his throat. “So you’ll teach me what to do, right?”

  “Mags, I think it’s gonna be the other way around…”

  “I have no idea what I’m doing. What could I possibly teach you?”

  “I don’t know, but,” he takes a deep breath, “you taught me how to love.”

  I caress up and down his back. “I love you too.”

  “Do you have those condoms you bought at the store?”

  I take a sharp breath. “In my bag.”

  He finds the protection and brings one to the bed. “I want you to know I’m clean, okay?”

  I nod, happy to know it, and glad we’re going into this with no secrets. No regrets.

  Just love and passion and friendship.

  • • •

  The next morning, I am amped up. My body feels great, and my stress is gone. This meet is mine.

  At the pool, “Spring Spotlight” banners hang from the rafters, where clusters of chatting swimmers make predictions for today. Music blares from the speakers. The water is a gleaming pearl blue. The facility smells fresh, and the air feels charged with energy, like right before a lightning storm.

  I take deep, steadying breaths in the shower, and out on the pool deck, I make sure to stretch all my limbs really well. Levi even makes time to massage the shoulder that gives me problems, his thumb expertly working that annoying spot. I lean my head back to stare up at him.

  “Thank you,” I say, and he dips over and kisses me upside down, Spider-Man style. After last night, I feel closer to him than ever before, and I love that my best friend was my first. It wasn’t flawless—it took us a bit to find the right angle and our rhythm, but in the end it was perfect.

  I run into Roxy at the practice lanes. “Good luck!” I call to her. She gives me a head nod but otherwise ignores me. And I’m happy with that. I won’t bother her, and she won’t bother me. Today is between me and the water.

  The prelims for 200 free and back go okay. I get placed in the A final for 200 free and B final for 200 back, which kind of sucks. I always thought 200 back was my best event, but maybe Coach is right. Maybe I’m evolving. Not that I won’t continue to swim my butt off in that race, but I’m open to new options. Like 400 free. For an event I’ve never done in long course, I do great in the prelims thanks to my endurance and get put into the A final. To qualify for the trials, I need a 4:17.99.

  While waiting on the finals later in the day, Levi and I hover near the pool with Jason and Susannah, cheering on our teammates. Levi stands right behind me, pressing his chest to my back, kissing the top of my head.

  “I was thinking,” he whispers in my ear. “Later we should play sharks and minnows. I’ll be the minnow this time, and you’ll be the big, mean shark that comes after me. And when you catch me, you can—”

  “Maggie, you’re on!” Coach calls. It’s time to warm up for the 400 free final. Levi gives me a good luck hug.

  After a few laps in the warm up pool, I step up to the blocks, adjusting the straps of my suit and tightening my goggles one last time. I shake my arms out and slap my muscles. The announcer says, “On your mark.”

  One last deep breath.

  The buzzer sounds and I fly off the blocks.

  People are cheering as I pull myself along on top of the water. Out of the corner of my eye, I see other swimmers accelerating. But Coach’s voice is clear in my mind: you’ll catch them on the back end. Stay steady. In the second half of the race, I go after it, working to close the gap. I focus on keeping my elbows high to maintain a smooth, steady stroke. Kick, kick, kick. On the final fifty, I try to improve a little, kicking harder with my legs while keeping the same tempo with my arms. I twirl around to face the scoreboard. Third place! My time is 4:15.89! Two seconds faster than I needed!

  “Oh my God!” I scream, slapping the water. I did it!

  It was such a fast heat two other girls also get Olympic trial cuts. The announcer shouts over the loudspeaker that we’re going to Omaha. Tears roll down my cheeks. All my hard work, years upon years in the pool, led to me having awesome endurance. It led me to this moment.

  In June, I will be going to the biggest meet of my life!

  Coach Josh gives me a big hug, and then I rush for my boyfriend. He lifts me up into his arms, spins me in a circle (which is probably an unsanctioned activity), and kisses me in front of a cheering crowd. Everything is great until Jason runs up and smacks me on the butt with a kickboard.

  When I call Mom and Dad, they scream congratulations over and over, which is pretty funny considering they are catering a library fund-raiser tonight. It’s fun to imagine the librarians shushing them.

  Then Levi and I sit in the stands to watch the rest of the finals and cheer for New Wave. My heart won’t stop racing. My smile feels permanently glued to my face. I can’t sit still. I did it!

  Levi peeks at the time on his phone. It’s 6:30 p.m. “Looks like we won’t make it back in time for prom.”

  I lean against his side, resting my cheek against his shoulder. “That’s okay. This is better than some dance.”

  “You’re damn right it is,” he says. “But I still want you to have your prom.”

  He tugs me up out of my seat, leads me into the hallway, and disappears into the guys’ locker room. He comes out a moment later with a small cooler and a shopping bag. From it he pulls a wireless speaker, which, after a flick of his thumb on his phone, begins to play a slow classical song. He also fishes out a candle, lights it, and places it on the ground. The cooler reveals a plastic box containing a white orchid corsage decorated with bright blue pearls. This he gently slips onto
my wrist.

  “I love it,” I tell him, and he steals a quick kiss. Still in our suits and sweats, he pulls me into his arms and starts slow dancing with me.

  Everything is perfect.

  I’m with my best friend.

  Four Years Later…

  A Sam Henry Epilogue for Hundred Oaks Fans

  Must. Stay. Awake.

  Must. Stay. Awake.

  In the past when I saw new parents, I never understood why they were so exhausted all the time. Then I became a dad and learned babies must be fed constantly. That’s all my baby does. Eat. Which isn’t surprising considering how much his mom and I love food.

  I stare down at my beautiful son as I balance his tiny body on my thighs. I run my fingers over his wisps of light hair. Just like Mom and Dad.

  “Sean’s going to be a great wide receiver one day,” I say.

  Jordan gives me a look of horror. “He’s a quarterback!”

  “Wide receiver.”

  She lifts one of Sean’s tiny arms between her thumb and forefinger. “Look at these guns. He’s a born quarterback.”

  “He can pick whatever position he wants,” I say, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

  Jordan yawns. “With our luck, he’ll end up hating football and want to play chess or something.”

  “He’d be the best chess player in the world.”

  At my words, Jordan snuggles closer to me.

  We’re sitting on the couch in the den of the new house we bought a few months ago. It’s only seven o’clock in the evening, but our eyelids are drooping, and we can’t stop yawning no matter how much coffee we drink. Of course the baby is wide awake because he’s a Henry, and Henrys are born troublemakers. Instead of sleeping, Sean is busy making gurgling noises and looking around. I have no idea what he’s looking at though. They say babies can’t see very far away when they’re first born, and he’s only a week old.

  A week old, and already the most popular guy in Franklin. Pretty much every person we know has dropped by to see him. My sister, Maya, and her fiancé, Jesse, love Sean so much they’ve been here every day. In addition to a little Braves onesie, they brought him an acoustic guitar. What is he supposed to do with it? I mean, I know he’s my son and he’s going to be great at everything, but he can’t hold up his head yet, much less a guitar. Still, it’s good to know we have built-in babysitters whenever we need them.

  And before she got pregnant, Jordan had been training for an eventual triathlon with our friend Matt Brown. Of course he showed up to see the baby, and then immediately asked when Jordan’s going to start biking and swimming again. Seeing as how she can’t keep her eyes open, I think it might be a little while before she’s back at it.

  This past week has been all about concentrating on Sean, but now we need to concentrate on something else: staying awake to watch the swimming Olympic trials. Jordan’s former students, Maggie and Levi, are both competing for spots on the US Olympic team.

  They didn’t make the cut four years ago, but there’s a good chance they will this time. Levi recently won NCAA Swimmer of the Year, and Maggie led Cal-Berkeley to an undefeated season.

  ESPN shows video of Maggie and Levi standing together on the pool deck, laughing at something together. Levi wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her forehead.

  The TV announcer says, “Maggie King and Levi Lucassen, both expected to score spots on the US Olympic team, have been dating since high school…”

  “Jordan!” I say, not taking my eyes off the screen. I pat her leg. “Woods! They’re on! Jordan!”

  That’s when I hear the snore.

  I peek over at Jordan. Her eyes are shut, her mouth wide open.

  I’ve known my wife—my best friend—since we were seven years old. As kids, we would nap together, sleeping head to toe. That’s how I know she’s always been a snorer. But I will never get tired of it.

  I love her.

  I pick up the remote to press record so we can watch the trials later.

  For now, I’m content to watch her and our son sleep.

  Acknowledgments

  I had a tough time in high school when it came to relationships. It felt like everyone but me had a boyfriend. Guys hardly ever asked me out. What was I doing wrong? I wore the clothes other girls wore. I did my hair like them too. When I pursued guys who didn’t want me as much as I wanted them, it always ended poorly.

  As I grew older I began to understand that healthy relationships and physical experiences happen in their own time. Like Maggie, I learned that just because other girls had more physical experience with boys didn’t mean I was somehow lacking. I learned I needed to understand who I was as a person, and be myself, before I could be in a relationship with someone else. It was then that I started meeting nice guys who were respectful and funny. If you worry that you won’t meet the right person, be kind to yourself and be patient, and everything will be fine.

  I love swimming. As a kid, I spent countless hours at the city pool and lake. I know quite a bit about swimming, but not nearly enough to write Maggie and Levi’s story! I had a lot of help. A huge thanks to Evan Stiles and the Arlington Aquatic Club in Arlington, Virginia, for letting me watch your practices and answering a billion questions. I’m grateful for the information online at SwimSwam and USA Swimming. To my first readers, thank you for all your great feedback: Willa Smith, Christy Maier, Andrea Soule, Trish Doller, Ginger Phillips, Rehka Radhakrishnan, and Jen Fisher. Thanks to my editor, Annette Pollert-Morgan, and everyone at Sourcebooks. Thank you to my husband, Don, for his unwavering support. Finally, I’m so appreciative of my readers. I love receiving your emails, tweets, and messages on Facebook, Instagram, and Goodreads. You are the best.

  About the Author

  Miranda Kenneally grew up in Manchester, Tennessee, a quaint little town where nothing cool ever happened until after she left. Now, Manchester is the home of Bonnaroo. Growing up, Miranda wanted to become an author, a major league baseball player, a country music singer, or an interpreter for the United Nations. Instead, she became an author who also works for the US Department of State in Washington, DC, and once acted as George W. Bush’s armrest during a meeting. She enjoys reading and writing young adult literature and loves Star Trek, music, sports, Mexican food, Twitter, and coffee. She lives in Arlington, Virginia, with her husband, Don, and cat, Brady. Visit www.mirandakenneally.com.

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