by Angel Lawson
It was a work of art—designed with my knowledge of slutty school-girl wear and Amber’s sense of empowerment. It was equal parts flirty and chaste. The perfect combination to get Noah’s “attention” while still blending in. Honestly, I worried I maybe nailed it too closely, because all three of the boys looked like they may climb out of their skin. I untied the swim hoodie I stole from Anderson from around my waist and tugged it on.
“Heaven!” Jackson called, scooting over to make room. Samantha followed me and said hi to all the guys. Hayden leaned over Jackson and gave me a hug. Oliver winked at me and I smiled back.
“Hey, Samantha,” Oliver said. “Did I see you at the baseball field the other day?”
The tips of her ears turned red and she nodded.
“She just came to hang with me,” I replied. “But then she realized watching baseball practice was boring as hell and she ran away while she had the chance.”
“Boring?” Jackson snorted. “Baseball is the thinking man’s game. It’s not boring.”
“You made it just in time,” Hayden said. “Anderson’s big event is next.”
I glanced up at the digital chart on the wall. Anderson’s name was on up there: Thompson: Lane 5 200 Butterfly.
Oh god, Anderson was swimming butterfly. Be still my heart.
I scanned the pool deck, looking for the familiar body, and found him sitting on a bench behind the starter blocks. Earphones covered his ears and he wore a hoodie that matched mine but about two sizes larger. He stared straight ahead, obviously in some kind of zone. This wasn’t my first swim meet of his I’d attended, but this was race was definitely the most important.
“If he gets less than 1:56, he’ll set the school record and move to the finals,” I told Samantha.
“Wow, so he’s really that good?”
“Olympic good,” Oliver answered. I heard the nerves in his voice. We all knew how much Anderson wanted and deserved this. I sure as hell hoped my pre-meet stress reliever wasn’t a bad idea.
The swimmers of the prior race hopped out of the pool and the announcer called the men to the starter blocks. Anderson removed his headphones and unzipped his hoodie, revealing his muscular, toned back, chest, and arms. His abs were breathtaking and Samantha made a small noise from beside me.
I couldn’t even get jealous. His body was a work of art, like a statue carved from marble, and deserved every impressed ogle he got.
Adjusting his goggles and cap, he climbed the step to the top of the small, square platform. His name was written over his forehead: Thompson. He looked ridiculously huge up there, shoulders wider than the block. The judge made a few comments and Anderson spared a glance in our direction. The boys took that as an opportunity to shout their support.
“Go Thompson!”
“Kill it, dude!”
“Swim, man, swim!”
His eyes locked with mine. I mouthed, good luck and he turned away, refocused on the race.
My stomach twisted anxiously, and I grabbed onto Jackson’s arm. He rubbed my hand with his.
“Oh my god,” I muttered under my breath. I’d never been so nervous for someone before. “I think I’m going to puke.”
“Divers, ready!” They folded over, fingertips on the edge of the block, magnificent backs exposed.
Bang!
The starter gun went off and all eight men dove into the pool. Anderson’s dive was perfection, long and clean under the water. He emerged last but farthest down the lane. His shoulders heaved out of the water, hands arcing over and crashing into the crystal clear pool. He was a beast and I was utterly transfixed on his graceful yet competitive movements.
He wasn’t alone, a solitary swimmer chased him through the water. His opponent’s yellow cap bobbed milliseconds behind.
“Who is that?” Samantha asked.
“Bobby Lee from Virginia Tech,” Oliver replied. “He’s beaten Anderson before at the Junior Nationals Finals.”
The cheering echoed in the aquatic center, bouncing off the high ceilings. I wasn’t cheering, though—I was petrified, breathless, in awe.
Anderson’s turn was perfection, easing back down the lane toward the finish. His legs moved in tandem, dolphin-kicking away from the wall. His stroke was steady. The rest of the swimmers faded away, lengths behind him, but Lee persevered, chasing after him. His lean body bobbed off the waves Anderson created with his massive force.
I hadn’t dared look at the clock—I couldn’t bring myself to. It was less about beating Lee than beating the clock, although both were important. Anderson inched closer to the finish and the boys hopped out of their seats, dragging me with them. The cheering reached epic levels and Jackson muttered words of encouragement under his breath.
“I can’t look,” I said, but that was a lie; I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he reached the finish line, both hands crashing into the touch pad a millisecond before Lee. Anderson spun and looked at the clock, his coach bent and talking to him already. Our eyes followed his and his time blinked from the top slot on the chart.
1:52
He killed it.
“Oh my god!” I shouted, Jackson picked me up in giant bear hug, his strong arms crushing me. I squawked and he laughed, releasing me.
“Come on,” Oliver said, heading down the bleachers. We raced after them and at the edge of the final one, I jumped down the final step and Hayden grabbed my hands and helped me down.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I was so nervous.”
He brushed my hair out of my face. “We really don’t deserve you, you know that?”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re so good to us; supportive and always there. I know you’re stretched thin with school and your own stuff, but you always make time for us.” His gray eyes penetrated mine. “You’re A++ girlfriend material.”
I glanced behind me, happy to see that Samantha had already followed the others across the deck. Anderson pulled himself out of the pool, water running down his body like a river.
“I love you, too.” I touched his hip and he responded to it with a mega-watt smile.
“Go see him.”
I pushed through the crowd of teammates and coaches. Anderson’s parents had come down for the event and his mom gave him a huge hug. I eased in to the side, catching his eye. His lips curved into a grin when he saw me, his eyes so intense that my skin prickled.
I felt the eyes of everyone on me—his coach, his parents…Samantha, but I pushed past the worries over them seeing me. I was here to support my friend. No one needed to know anything else. He broke away from the others, pulling his cap off his head, revealing his mop of coppery-brown hair.
When he got close enough I lunged for him, slamming into his soaking-wet body. “You did it!”
“I know,” he said, pulling me to his chest. “I can’t believe it.”
“I knew you could,” I said, lifting my chin. “I knew it.”
“That’s the best time I’ve ever had. I broke the school record. It’s just a smidge higher than Phelps,” he said, rambling in his excitement.
“You’re only going to get better.”
He bent down so his mouth was close to my ear. “That thing you did before the meet? I told you—you’re my lucky charm.”
I snorted. “You think so?”
He smirked. “Oh, I know so. You know how superstitious we are before meets. You’re part of the routine now.”
I remembered how he felt, the way he looked as I pleasured him. Yeah, I was down for being part of his ritual. “So what are you saying…I’m a habit?”
He slung a wet arm around me and whispered in my ear, “A bad habit—but one I never want to break, got it?”
My cheeks flushed at his comment but I knew how he felt. Every day I felt the bond with these guys more than the day before. I loved it. And loved them.
My phone vibrated just as his coach called him over. He had two more events before the night was
over.
I checked the message.
You on the way? I’m here and wearing my Terrance Ackerman jersey. #14—Noah.
I glanced at Anderson. The last thing I wanted was to leave him. He saw my expression and said, “I know you need to go do some stuff for your dad. It’s okay.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Samantha’s going with me, so the guys can stay.”
He looked over at my suitemate and nodded. “Be careful.”
“I will. And good luck on the rest of the meet. I’ll have Oliver record it so we can watch later.”
He glanced at Samantha once again and mumbled “fuck it” under his breath before closing the distance between us. He pulled me in for a kiss—for luck—and a shot of electricity that curled my toes, lingering long after we parted.
I refused to look at his mom or even any of the other guys. I just said, “Good luck,” and walked over to Samantha. “You ready?”
“Uh,” she peeked at Anderson, who was already walking back to the swimmer bullpen. “Wow. That was hot.”
“It’s just a little good luck thing. Nothing big.”
She followed me out of the pool and into the much cooler and less humid night air. “You can say that wasn’t anything big, Heaven, but that guy…wow. It may not have meant anything to you, but it sure as hell meant something to him.”
I stopped abruptly, feeling defensive, but that wasn’t fair. Samantha was a friend. Or could be if I let down a few walls. “The relationship I have with these guys is complicated. We’re super close. We’ve dated. We’re all really good friends. But it’s also super private and something just between us.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell them you were going to meet a guy tonight?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You told them you’re running an ‘errand’ and being super vague about the fact there’s a guy waiting for you at the party.”
“That guy is the errand—set up by my father.” I rubbed my temples. “Do you have a problem or something? I invited you to be nice—not to get an interrogation.”
“I appreciate it, but I don’t know, there’s something shady going on with you and those guys.” She looked me up and down. “Ruthie told me how defensive you got over Anderson the other day. Now I understand why.”
I took a deep breath. “Look, my dad is a piece of work. I can’t—no, won’t—even go into it for your sake. But he’s asked me to jump and I’ve got no choice. So yeah, I’m hiding what I’m doing from the guys tonight because they would lose their shit if they found out, which ultimately would get them caught up in everything. It’s not a big deal. It’s just my dad, who is shady as hell. You’re right about that. But it’s easiest if I just do what he asks and then move on.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, my dad can be a dick, too. When he’s even around.”
I fought off the feeling of anxiety from the vulnerability of revealing all that information. “I hear that.”
“Come on,” she said, easing her tone. “Let’s go run your errand and check out this party. Since you’re obviously not sharing, maybe I can find a guy on my own.”
We walked through campus, headed toward fraternity row. Samantha seemed calmer now that she knew the truth and maybe I didn’t realize how difficult I made things by having so many secrets.
The problem was that I didn’t trust anyone—high school taught me that—but I had a feeling that if I was going to be happy, I’d have to learn to depend on people outside Amber and the Allendale Four.
The bad thing for me was that idea was absolutely terrifying.
16
My father was right, if there was one thing I’d learned in high school, it was how to make a scene and get attention. I knew the instant we walked through the door to the party and spotted Noah across the room. Noah was like Justin and Eric and half the other boys in my high school; a little nerdy, a little lost, and desperately in need of an ego boost.
Heaven to the rescue—saving one socially awkward boy at a time.
“Seriously, thanks for coming with me to this,” I said. “I don’t know anyone here.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I can corrupt one of these guys. I like a challenge.”
Yowza.
I unzipped my hoodie and hung it on the rack by the door. “So why did your dad send you here?” Samantha asked.
I shook my head. “See Noah over there?” I pointed to the guy in the number fourteen jersey, just like he’d told me he’d be. He was skinny and had a patchy beard that made him look more mature than he’d look without it. He stood with a couple of other guys.
“Yeah.” She wrinkled her nose. Samantha had made it perfectly clear she was into big, athletic guys.
“I’m supposed to make him feel special. Stand by him and laugh at his jokes. Look pretty on his arm.”
“You’re kidding.” She looked at the hint of cleavage popping out the V-neck of my jersey. “He wants you to…”
I shook my head. “Trust me, I’ve done it before. I can handle it.”
Retrieving my phone, I typed out a message.
Hey, #14, I’m here!!
I pressed send.
I waited a heartbeat and he reacted to the vibration in his pocket. He looked up, made eye contact, and smiled. I smiled back.
He walked over and pulled me into a hug. Okay, then.
“Noah?” I asked.
“That’s me. And wow, when they named you they sure had it right.” He had a slight southern drawl. I had to admit it was pretty cute.
“This is my roommate, Samantha.”
He smiled. “Glad you could come. You guys want a drink? We’ve got some Jesus Juice.”
“Uh, Jesus Juice?” I asked.
“Well, the frats all have their special cocktails. Ours doesn’t have liquor in it but it tastes pretty good.”
“Sure, that sounds great.”
“Come on, I’ll show you around.
I followed him through the living room. The Christian Center was located in an historic home—just like the frats, and surprisingly it was one of the bigger houses; historic with large columns. He led us to the back door where it was obvious the party was in full swing. I heard a shout, followed by a splash.
“You have a pool?” Samantha asked.
“Yep. And a hot tub,” he replied, smugly. When we both looked surprised, he said, “I know we’re religious but we’re not prudes. Showing a little skin isn’t a sin.”
My father would die if he heard that.
Samantha scanned the patio and her eyes brightened. “Oh, I see a friend from class. I’m going to say hi.” She looked at me. “Is that okay?”
“Sure, have fun. We’ll catch up soon.”
Noah had curly black hair that was long on the top but short on the sides. He was cute enough—but not my type—and I needed to figure out what he wanted out of this meeting
“So your dad knows my dad,” I said, taking a sip of the fruity Jesus Juice. It was pretty good.
“Yep, they set this whole thing up.”
“Any idea why?”
His eyes raked over me. “Not specifically, but I’m glad they did.” He took a sip of his drink. “My father believes in establishing contacts through the church—linking up with the right people.”
I laughed. “Not sure how I’m going to help you. I’m new on campus, overwhelmed by classes. Not super social or anything or, frankly, very religious.” I clamped my mouth shut. “Don’t tell my dad that.”
He smiled. “I won’t, and for one thing, you’re beautiful, you’ve got that going for you.”
Wait…what happened to shy Noah? My dad may have had his information wrong.
I raised an eyebrow. “If I had to guess, this is really about my dad making a point about who he thinks I should make friends with at school—while developing those connections your dad is fond of.”
“What? He doesn’t like your friends?”
I
hadn’t given him the chance to get to know them.
“I try to keep my personal life away from my dad. He has a way of getting too involved.” I smiled. “You know, like this entire situation.”
“Maybe he’s just protective.” He slid a little closer. I really didn’t know what my father had set up before I came here. Did he want me to date Noah? Flatter him? There was no doubt we’d gotten a little attention since we staked out this corner of the kitchen.
“I heard you were shy and needed a friend,” I confessed. “That doesn’t seem to be the case. What gives?”
Noah looked over my shoulder at a few girls walking through the kitchen. If we added a keg and a dose of machoism, we’d be at a standard party. “My dad financially supports this center with huge donations. He wants me to be a leader in the church and in his eyes, I can’t do that without a nice girl on my arm. I think he’s also embarrassed I don’t have a steady girlfriend—he’s accused me more than once of being gay.”
“Are you? Because if you are, that’s not a big deal for me.”
“I’m not gay,” he said. “But I’m also not a saint. Not the kind that my father wants me to be.”
I sighed. “Totally get this. I’m not who my father wants me to be, either.”
Things were starting to click. I’d been down this road before, but this time the arrangement was helping my dad, whereas last time it only benefitted Justin. There wasn’t much I could get out of this other than getting him off my back.
“Basically, we both need a cover for our true selves. A steady friend of the opposite sex for them to feel comfortable with, and if your dad is happy…” I suggested.
“Then he’ll donate to whatever project your dad has in mind at his church,” he replied with a sly grin.
“What kind of proof do you think they’ll want? What sort of evidence?”
“My dad has spies all over the place. He keeps tracks. Fuck, I even caught him paying my roommate to send him details on any women I’m seeing.”
“You’re joking.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”