by Layla Reyne
“Working it out,” Bas said, as he set the tablet aside. Changing the subject, he jutted his chin at the pool. “Terrence and Hunter are doing well; you’d be doing better.” While Alex raced in medley relay and backstroke, he was a gifted all-around swimmer. Almost as good as Ryan in IM.
Alex shook his head. “That’s the last thing I want to do after what went down with Ryan. It’d only prove his point.” Ryan had been angry at the veterans, like Alex and Bas, who’d returned to take up starting spots again on the squad. “I’m not about to take his one spot, or the two for that matter.”
“I don’t think the rest of the team would see it that way if you’re the most qualified.”
Alex looked out over the pool, then back at him. “Have you heard any similar discontent from the younger swimmers?”
“Not me, but let’s go to the source.” Bas cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Yo, Pup!”
Jacob popped up from where he’d been kneeling by the pool next to Terrence, cheering on and coaching his backup. Selfless, perhaps to a fault, in a sport that required competitive drive. Was this why Jacob “didn’t know how to win”? Did he really choke or was he putting himself second? Letting others take the spotlight instead? Bas would have to talk to him; that mindset would not fly at the Olympics, especially with other swimmers trying to get in his head. For now, though, they had to deal with their own squad’s bigger issues. He waved over the youngest member of their team.
“Ahoy!” Jacob plopped down on the bleacher row in front of them. “What’s up?”
“Any more rumblings from the greenhorns about us vets?” Bas asked, returning a little sailor speak.
“Matey!” Jacob said, holding out a fist for a bump.
Bumping back, Bas laughed, indulging in Jacob’s big toothy smile, until Captain Alex brought them to task. “English or Spanish, no pirate please.”
Still smiling, Jacob returned to attention, following his captain’s orders. “Mike watches you two”—he gestured at Alex and Bas—“and Kevin and Sean, like a hawk. He swam with Ryan at Florida, so I thought maybe he’d be a problem, but I caught a glimpse of his journal the other night in the lounge, and it’s full of swim notes. He’s not resentful at all, just eager to learn. Looking to you vets for expertise.” Jacob rattled off several more hyperobservant tidbits about their teammates that would have made a shrink, or detective, proud.
“You got all that, just observing?” Alex said, shaking his head. “That CompSci degree you’re getting is wasted. You should have gone into psych.”
“Cousin’s the psych major,” Jacob said with a shrug. “I pick things up.” More than a few things, Bas judged. “Honestly,” Jacob continued, “we’re all too focused on the now and terrified about what to expect next.”
“In Madrid?” Alex said.
Jacob nodded. “We’ve heard the stories. How do we keep our focus with all that craziness going on?”
“You’ve all been to meets before.”
“Yeah, but this is the Olympics.” Jacob made a huge sweeping motion with his arms, almost losing his balance, then laughing at himself with Alex and Bas. After a moment, he added more seriously, “No one wants to let the team down.” The no one was a clear substitution for I, consistent with the concerns he’d expressed to Bas in San Antonio. Those doubts and worries obviously still lingered, because what lay ahead was unknown. But what if it could be known? Or at least simulated? An idea sparked in Bas’s mind that continued to take root as Alex and Jacob chatted.
“We’re just trying to keep our heads down and swim,” Jacob said.
“You’ll let me know if anything changes?”
Jacob stood, saluting. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Leah met him at the bottom of the steps, looping an arm through his. “Saw you giving Terrence some turn tips. Think you might share with us too?”
Jacob grinned at her, cheeks slightly pinked. “Yeah, sure.”
“We’re in the water in ten, Pup,” Bas said. “Don’t get too distracted.”
Jacob shot another smile over his shoulder, as Leah tugged him forward. Bas tracked them all the way around to the other side of the pool, where Jacob jumped in with Leah and several of the other women, a mini-splash fest ensuing.
“You still know what you’re doing there?” Alex asked low.
Bas repeated his answer from San Antonio, “Not doing anything,” even as his memories played like a film reel of contradictions. The tattoo parlor; waking up with Jacob in his arms; watching him sleep every night, the pup’s light snores endearing.
“That look on your face doesn’t say ‘Not doing anything.’”
Bas schooled his blasted features and swung his eyes back to Alex. “I made you a promise. I intend to keep it.”
“Are the two things mutually exclusive?”
Bas lost control of his features again, surprise reigning. Was Alex suggesting what Bas thought he was? “You were there four years ago. You’ve got a medley relay silver in your case at home instead of gold.” He pointed at his chest. “My fault.”
“We were all distracted, Sebastian.”
“Because of what I did. Not doing that again.”
Alex tilted his head, dark eyes searching. “If I’m reading this right, you’ll do anything not to hurt the pup, which worries me almost as much.”
“How about you look after your own first timer, and I’ll look after mine?”
“Yours, huh?”
He’d stepped right into that one. “You baited me, motherfucker.”
Alex lifted a brow, giving him a so-what-if-I-did face that morphed into a soft smile when his wandering gaze landed on Dane.
“How are things going with your first timer?” Bas asked.
“A little unreal still. It’s such a one-eighty.”
No argument there. Dane had gone from repressed and fuming, to competing with Jacob for head cheerleader. Out of the pool, Dane was permanently attached to his boyfriend; he couldn’t keep his hands off Alex. “Maybe he’s making up for lost time.” Ten years of it. “You’re happy?”
“I got what I thought I never would, so yeah, I’m beyond happy.”
“And after Madrid?”
Alex shifted on the bleacher, angling toward Bas. “Been meaning to talk to you about that.” Words that rarely preceded anything good. A knot formed in Bas’s gut. Had he been so stuck in his own head that he’d missed some sign of distress in Alex? Was his best friend’s well-earned happiness already in jeopardy?
Bas couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Once Mom’s done with her chemo and feeling better, Dane and I were considering giving LA a shot, if you think your club would still have us. I miss it out there and swimming with you.”
Warmth expanded in Bas’s chest, dissolving the knot of worry. “I think the club would be more than happy to have you and Big Red.” He slung an arm over his best friend’s shoulders, hugging him. “And so would I.”
Bas had spied Martin’s the first day they’d arrived in Vienna. From the back seat of the van that took them to the academy, he’d craned his neck to check out the pub with the Irish and Union Jack flags out front. Later, when Jacob had been on the phone with his dad, Bas had gone for a walk around town and drifted into the establishment, lured by the waft of fried chicken and nineties grunge music. The oddities continued inside, namely a merry Australian lumberjack behind the bar. An Irish/English pub, in Austria, that played American music, served American food, and was run by Australians. The mishmash was perfect, reminding Bas of home, and Ernie, the brawny barkeep and owner, wasn’t too hard to look at either.
The auburn-haired highlander clone slid a basket of chicken nuggets and a pint of hard cider onto the bar in front of Bas. “Brought the whole team tonight, did ya?” Ernie’s words and face were cheerful, not at all bothered by the horde of athletes invading his pub.
Pushing aside his napkin sketch, Bas laid down the pen he’d stolen from behind the bar and took a swallow of
the cold, bittersweet brew, bubbles of sharp citrus bursting on his tongue. “Idea I had at practice today,” he said.
Martin’s was a scene at night, and a good trial run for the sort of chaos his teammates would face in Madrid. A training exercise to practice how they’d behave out of the pool in the face of temptation. “Give them a measured taste,” he’d pitched to Alex. “See how they handle it.”
Alex and Nat had talked it over and gotten their respective coaches’ approvals, with two ground rules—midnight curfew and a two-drink limit. Alex, Bas, Nat, and Eva, the women’s second, were limited to one drink each. They needed to stay sober and observe, watching out for the flagrant rule breakers and also those who might be swayed to do so by inexperience or the need to fit in.
“So far so good,” Ernie said. “They seem to be enjoying themselves.”
“I’m sure the familiar music and these—” he picked up a nugget “—help. Just like home.” He popped one into his mouth, smiling.
Ernie chuckled. “When do you leave for Madrid?”
“Two more days of practice, then travel day.”
The bartender unwrinkled Bas’s doodled-on napkin and scribbled a number on the back. “You get to feeling lonesome before Sunday, you know where to find me.” He pushed the napkin under Bas’s nose, then threw him a flirtatious wink as he shimmied his bubble butt to the other end of the bar. Not a bad view at all.
Grabbing his pint glass, Bas spun on his stool and rested back against the bar, sipping his cider and tracking the team around the pub. Natalie, Sean, and several others were huddled in two front-window booths; Alex was presiding over a pop-up billiards tournament in the other front corner; and in the back, to the right of the bar, Eva stood on the border of the dance floor, monitoring their swimmers bouncing and swaying to the music, including Jacob.
His spiky blond hair refracted the dance floor lights as he threw himself into a white-boy head-bob, not an ounce of rhythm in his movements. Leah didn’t seem put off in the slightest, laughing and lifting on her toes to shout at him over the music. Bas hid his scowl behind the rim of his glass. Of course she wouldn’t be put off; Jacob was adorable in his guileless enthusiasm. And Bas had no right to begrudge Jacob a shot at someone who appreciated him just the way he was. They seemed genuinely interested in each another, spending more and more time together, in and out of the pool. Maybe it was a summer fling, or maybe it would develop into more. With that thought sitting like an elephant on his chest, Bas drained his cider and spun back around.
Not long after, Alex sidled up next to him, flagging Ernie down for a soda.
“You’re the captain, right?” Ernie’s good-humored smile stretched into a leer as he handed Alex a Coke bottle. “Seen you on TV. You and Red over there”—he gestured at Dane—“need a third while you’re in town, I’m game.”
“Fucker!” Bas exclaimed in mock protest, tossing a balled-up napkin at him. “You hit on me not five minutes ago.”
“Can you blame me? My bar is crawling with hot athletes. I’m gonna keep shootin’ darts until one of ’em lands.” Leaning forward, he braced his freckled forearms on the bar. “So, what do you say, Captain?”
Alex smiled, looking not the least bit put off. “Appreciate the offer, but we’ll pass.”
Bas had lost count of how many times he and Alex had been propositioned together in LA. When Natalie had shown up their junior year and started hanging out with them, she’d been a welcome third on their going-out adventures, making it appear they were an established throuple. In reality, it’d only ever been friendship among the three of them, but the mistaken impression of more took the pressure off in clubs.
“Shame,” Ernie said, shaking his head. “Wasted two darts that time.”
“Keep slinging ’em,” Bas said. “You’ll hit something.”
Snickering, Ernie moved on to another customer, and Alex shot Bas a curious side-eye. “You didn’t take him up on his offer?”
“Not really in the mood.”
A crease formed between Alex’s dark brows, his lips pressing together.
Bas knew that look well. “Spit it out, Cantu, whatever it is.”
Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket. “This probably isn’t going to improve your mood.” He sat the device on the bar, faceup between them.
On the screen was a friend request with a picture of a face Bas had done everything in his power to avoid the past four years. Since the last Olympics, when Bas had been a selfish, immature ass and hurt both his team and a man he’d cared for. The same man smiling up at him from Alex’s phone. He’d grown into his striking features—a headful of thick black hair, green-gold eyes, and a strong square jaw that balanced out his pronounced nose and made the overall impression sharp and handsome.
“He’s on the Spanish team again,” Alex said. “He’ll be in Madrid.”
Bas propped his elbows on the bar and scrubbed his hands over his face. This wasn’t a surprise; Bas had reckoned he’d be there. One of the top swimmers at USC with Alex and Bas, he’d been projected to win gold for Spain in his individual races at the last Olympics, before Bas had sent them both off the rails. With the Games in his home country this time, of course he’d be back. Of course Bas would have to face his biggest mistake while struggling not to make another.
“You mind running interference?” he said to Alex.
“Count on it.”
“I didn’t realize you hadn’t stayed in touch.”
“You’re my best friend, even when you act like an idiot. And no real reason to, once he moved back across the pond.”
Because Bas hadn’t given him a reason to stay.
Stay.
His eyes strayed again to the dance floor. Jacob had asked him to stay and Bas had. In the tattoo parlor, on the bus, in the locker room. He’d promised to stay by his side throughout this Olympic experience, as a friend, teammate, and mentor. Had he also promised more? In his actions? In his heart? Bas wasn’t sure which frightened him most—Jacob’s possibly skewed expectations or his own definitely skewed desire to meet them knowing it’d only end in disaster.
Same as it had four years ago.
Bas rubbed a hand across his chest, over the lone tattoo, as he tried and failed not to make comparisons. Going down that road was dangerous, but it was also a necessary reminder of his mistakes.
That was the point of tonight, wasn’t it? To get the mistakes out of the way. And would that third pint Mike was holding out to Jacob be the pup’s first mistake?
Bas was half off the stool when Alex grabbed his arm.
“Give him a chance to make the right decision,” Alex said.
Which Jacob did, waving Mike off with a good-natured smile.
“See,” Alex said, releasing Bas’s arm, “we don’t have to worry about the pup. Between my boyfriend’s hazing and your tattoo night out, I think he got his fill in San Antonio.”
Bas focused on the former instead of the latter. “I think you also like saying that word boyfriend.”
Alex’s shy smile was all the answer Bas needed. For all the press attention and big announcements, it was the small everyday affections between Alex and Dane that made Bas happy for his friend. Alex deserved that, more than anyone Bas knew.
“Alejandro,” Dane called from the pool tables. “I’m over here making bets on your behalf.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Ay Dios.”
Chuckling, Bas returned the earlier side-eye. “Hope you’re still as good at running the table as you were in college.”
“Better,” Alex said with a wink, before draining his soda and cutting back across the pub.
Rotating on his stool, Bas made another visual sweep of the place. Nat’s crew in the booths were playing beer pong with soda caps, Sean’s flirt turned way up. Alex and Dane had the pool tables under control, starting up another tourney round. And Eva was making laps around the dance floor, stopping for small talk while keeping a watchful eye out.
With Eva’s attentio
n on the group as a whole, Bas zeroed in on Jacob. Hair shiny and skin glistening with sweat, he played the part of carefree new adult well, bouncing with Leah and the others on the dance floor. Just a goofy college kid in his goofy Walk the Plank T-shirt having a fun night.
With the girl he maybe liked.
Probably liked.
Scowling, Bas started to turn back to the bar, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a shift in his favorite subject. And not a good one. Jacob was no longer having fun. Carefree mask ripped away, Jacob stared down at the phone in his hand and his skin blanched under the flashing lights. The next instant, he was shoving through the crowd toward the back exit.
Bas was moving before he made the decision to follow. Hell, there was no decision to make. He’d made a promise—to look out for Jacob—regardless of what that might entail. He wove quickly through the thinner crowd around the outer edge of the dance floor. Reaching the back door before Leah, Bas waved her off and pushed through the door.
Outside in the alley, he heard Jacob before he saw him, ten or so feet ahead on the left, pacing the width of the narrow cobblestone street with his phone to his ear. Speaking fast, his voice was high and thready, alarmed. “He was fine when I talked to him earlier.”
In his other hand, Jacob tumbled the dog tags as fast as his words, and Bas reckoned the he Jacob referred to must be his dad.
“Josh, what the fuck happened in just a few hours?”
The angry curse startled Bas. He’d only ever heard Jacob sound that short, seen his rangy body that puffed up, when they’d confronted Ryan back in San Antonio. That confrontation had ended with Jacob taking Ryan down in an impressive martial arts move. It sounded like that’s what Jacob wanted to do to Josh right about now too. Was Josh the cousin he’d mentioned earlier, the psych major? And what did that have to do with Davis?
Bas was starting to put the pieces together, when, at the end of the alley, Jacob made a U-turn and lifted his head, spotting Bas for the first time. He froze midstep, eyes widening and nostrils flaring, reacting like a trapped animal. Standing in place, Bas raised his hands, palms out. He just wanted Jacob to know he was here if Jacob needed him.