Medley

by Layla Reyne

  “Dude’s a fucking legend,” Sean said, jutting his chin at Bas. “Women and men lining up. I expect no less this go round, especially since he’s been a monk all through training.”

  “Until last night,” Kevin said with a leer.

  Jacob’s stomach did another of those awful flips, nowhere near as graceful as the somersault a diver made off the platform to his right. When Bas hadn’t returned last night, he’d convinced himself that Bas had crashed in the lounge or in Alex and Dane’s room, not accepting his invitation and not wanting to make him feel embarrassed. Jacob could explain away the near-kiss as comfort offered, then reined back in. But apparently Bas hadn’t been thinking of him at all. Hearing he’d accepted someone else’s invitation, and about Bas’s popularity at the last Games, reminded Jacob where he ranked—at the very back of a very long line he’d stupidly and ineptly tried to butt into. He’d made a fool of himself—grabbing Bas’s wrists, holding him close, and asking for too much. Awkward Jacob was making things awkward, surprise, and jeopardizing the squad’s chance at relay gold because he wanted . . . what with Bas—a kiss, a hookup, more?

  Sean elbowed him, jostling him out of his sinking thoughts. “Works out for you and Leah. Room to yourself.”

  Jacob shook his head. “She’s nice, but we’re just friends.”

  “She wants to be more than just friends with you,” Kevin said.

  Heads swung as they checked out the women’s team across the pool. Leah was staring right at Jacob, eyeing him with flirtatious interest. Close in age, they had similar interests, more than just swimming and breaststroke in common, and Leah’s bubbly personality was a pleasant distraction. Jacob liked hanging out with her, and she seemed to like hanging out with him too, against all odds. She even got his stupid jokes, or at least pretended to. He could see their friendship continuing after the Games. But more? The last thing he wanted to do was lead Leah on, because if he had a shot with Bas . . . But did he? What was the sense in pushing after his bumbling foul last night? When he wasn’t even on Bas’s radar? But he was on Leah’s. Would he drop off it, though, when she realized he was bi? Or that he was a super uncool virgin?

  Mike slapped his shoulder. “Now he’s thinking.”

  “Maybe don’t think too hard yet,” Kevin said, laughing. “You’ll have your pick of chicks when we get to Madrid.”

  Or dudes.

  Coach blew his whistle before Jacob could correct them. Not that he would, yet. He wasn’t closeted, but the team was already dealing with enough drama and press attention without him causing more.

  “Medley relay’s first,” Hartl shouted. “Rest of you fools out of the water.”

  “Let’s roll, ladies!” Coach Albert shouted, rounding up her squad to go to Pool Two.

  Leah waved as they walked past. “Have a good practice, Jacob.”

  “You too,” he replied, on his way to the blocks where Dane was giving Alex a hand down into the water, Bas standing off to the side.

  “What was that about?” Bas asked, storm still raging in his eyes.

  The heavy, humid air did nothing to chase away the chill that crept up Jacob’s spine. “She was just saying hi.”

  “Not her,” Bas snapped. “The phone.”

  Jacob rubbed his hands up and down his arms, leaving one clasped over the wrapped tattoo. He’d had to do that himself this morning, for the first time since the night Bas had inked him. “Checking in with Josh,” he said.

  “How’s your dad?”

  “He’s good.”

  With a curt nod, Bas turned his back and stepped to the other side of the block, shutting him out.

  Jacob’s stomach flipped again, landing ungracefully at his feet.

  Ungraceful became a theme over the next two days.

  Ungraceful starts, with Jacob off his timing and out of sorts as he hit the water. Ungraceful swims, as his mind drifted and his stroke suffered. Who would believe he’d been the one giving Terrence turn tips earlier in the week? Terrence, who continued to improve daily, who looked like a pro, while Jacob looked like he’d wandered in off the street, unsure what was going on.

  Never more so than in medley relay practice. Jacob was used to focusing on Bas during his return lap, swimming harder to reach him, their breaths so in sync they didn’t have to think about timing their exchange. They’d practiced that technique, back in Colorado and Texas, until it had become second nature. Now, however, after Bas’s absence the last two nights and his cold shoulder in practices, Jacob was out of sync. His breathing was off, and he hesitated on his approach, uncertain who or what he was reaching for.

  He wasn’t handling Leah’s advances gracefully either. And she was definitely making them—hanging out with him more at the pool, jogging by his side on morning runs, sitting with him at lunch. Jacob didn’t mind the company; she was one of the bright spots in his increasingly gray days, her pleasant chatter filling the hours between practices and calls home. He wished he could return the favor, be a better friend and conversationalist.

  With Bas out of reach, he’d started to think he might also like to be more than just friends with Leah, but between his mounting frustration and tendency to get tongue-tied, his uncoolness was a major stumbling block. One he didn’t think even she could continue to ignore. He’d be lucky if she gave him the time of day once they reached Madrid. She’d be the one to find someone cooler and more interesting, then he’d lose his shot. Unless he channeled his cousin’s swagger and made a move tonight.

  Freshly determined, he turned his face toward the showerhead and pretended it could wash away the dork. He’d take a nap, watch an episode or two of Black Sails, and get his Charles Vane on. His determination wavered, however, when he heard the door to the room outside open and close.

  If he had to guess, Bas would be in and out in a flash, just swinging by to grab his tablet. Jacob could hide in the bathroom and wait for him to leave again, or he could try to deal with some of the awkwardness now, before the team dinner. At minimum, he owed Bas an apology for the other night and for his shitty performance in the pool the past couple of days.

  Toweling off quickly, he wrapped the terry cloth around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom, nearly running into Bas. As predicted, he was already on his way back out, tablet in hand. Path blocked, Bas stopped in his tracks, and the heat from his blue eyes raking over Jacob’s torso scalded. And confounded. Jacob wasn’t sure what he was seeing—or wasn’t—anymore.

  He cleared his throat, and Bas whipped his gaze to the side, mumbling an apology. Jacob could have let it go, or made his own apology. Instead, eyes straying to Bas’s perfectly made bed, Jacob lobbed a different question into the already murky waters between them.

  “Where did you sleep last night?”

  “Downstairs lounge.” Bas brandished his tablet. “Fell asleep sketching.”

  “Oh.” Perfectly reasonable, for a couple of hours, but none of the lounge couches were long enough for six-foot-plus Bas to sleep on all night.

  “Night before that, I was at Ernie’s,” he added, unprompted.

  Hearing Bas confirm Mike’s rumor was a kick to Jacob’s gut.

  Bas’s “on his couch” didn’t soften the blow much either. He’d still chosen to sleep elsewhere, to continue to avoid him.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Jacob said.

  “Violated the two-drink maximum,” Bas replied. “Thought it safer to sober up first.”

  Jacob’s eyes widened. “How much did you violate it by?”

  Bas cupped a hand over his forehead, as if remembering the pain there. “A lot.”

  “So it’s not just me the stress is getting to?”

  Bas laughed, harsh and frustrated, yet it was still better than his silence. “You’re not the only one. Not by a long shot.” His eyes flickered up, exposing exhaustion. And not the satisfied sort.

  Some of the pain in Jacob’s gut eased, at the same time worry for Bas bloomed. “I’ll sleep in the lounge tonight,”
he offered.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “You need to rest too. Sleep in your bed. If you need me gone, I’ll be gone.” The words tasted bitter, wrong, even though earlier he’d been hoping to be elsewhere, with Leah.

  Bas’s lips twisted, caught between a smile and a frown. “What about what you need?”

  Jacob’s breath caught and his mind stuttered, overloaded by too many answers to that very loaded question. Before he could grab hold of one, his phone rattled on the table, cutting off his deliberation. His nightly call from home was right on time. If he didn’t answer it now, he wouldn’t get another chance to talk to his dad tonight, and tomorrow was iffy, with traveling, opening ceremonies, and the Village opening-night party.

  But would he get another chance to finish this conversation with Bas?

  Torn, he glanced back and forth between the phone and Bas.

  The latter made the decision for him, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “We’ll work it out tonight, after dinner.”

  Jacob held Bas’s hand there with one of his own. “You promise?”

  “Promise. For now, go talk to your dad. Tell him I said hi.”

  For the first time in days, Jacob thought maybe he’d handled something gracefully.

  “Sebastian, wake up.”

  His full name, in Alex’s captain-voice, roused Bas from sleep. Peeling his face off the wooden dining table, Bas stared up, into Alex’s dark, assessing eyes.

  “So this is where you’re hiding now?”

  The academy’s high-ceilinged mess hall was as good a place as any. The dining area was mostly deserted until evening, and today, owing to their team dinner out, the kitchen staff were also absent. He’d had an hour to kill before they left for dinner, and he hadn’t felt like socializing in the lounge or taking a walk outside in the ninety-degree heat. But he’d needed to get out of the room to give Jacob privacy and to save what was left of his good intentions.

  The image of Jacob this afternoon, fresh from the shower, flashed behind his eyes again, and on its heels, blinding panic. For a split second, Bas feared his drawing of the memory, another reason he’d avoided the lounge, was displayed on his tablet screen for anyone to see. Including Alex.

  A quick glance down and Bas sagged with relief. He’d turned the device over, hiding today’s sketch and the others. The one of Jacob’s lust-wrecked face in the tattoo parlor mirror, every detail Bas could remember from that night etched into his digital likeness. The one of Jacob backed against the alley wall outside Martin’s, eyes pleading and teeth digging into his full bottom lip. The one from today, Jacob’s Longhorn tattoo the center of a profile sketch, water sluicing down his muscled torso and disappearing beneath the low-slung towel.

  Yeah, he was hiding—too many things to count, the number growing by the day. “It’s quiet in here,” he claimed instead.

  “You have a room to sleep in.”

  “Jacob was on the phone with his family. Wanted to give him some privacy.”

  Alex slid into the chair next to him. “That also why you slept in the lounge last night?”

  Bas raised a brow, wanting to know who’d ratted him out.

  “Kevin told me.”

  “Fell asleep sketching,” Bas covered. “Everything’s chill, Cap.”

  Alex braced his forearms on the table, glaring at him sideways. “I can’t tell if you’re too chill or less chill than I’ve ever seen you.”

  Maybe Bas shouldn’t have answered at all. He hated lying to his best friend; he hated adding to his burdens more.

  “I’m gonna go with the latter,” Alex said when he didn’t respond. “You want to tell me why?”

  While he couldn’t give Alex that truth, he could give him another—the truth about another wrong decision that’d been troubling him. “I fucked up with the Martin’s idea.” The team was jittery as hell, and the night out at Martin’s had compounded their problems, not solved any.

  “No, you didn’t,” Alex said. “If we hadn’t gone out that night, the same breakdown would have happened after opening ceremonies instead. You were right. Like Coach said, better to get it out of our systems now.”

  Bas reclined in his chair, stretching out his legs and lacing his hands behind his head. “It seems worse than last time.” And last time had been a fucking train wreck. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “Me either.” Alex’s chuckle sounded more helpless than amused. “But this team’s more talented. We didn’t have the potential to win as many medals four years ago.”

  “You saying we’re shining the spotlight brighter on ourselves?”

  “That, plus the Ryan situation.”

  “And the Dane situation.”

  Alex leaned back, matching Bas’s posture, his gaze drifting above to where his and Dane’s room was. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Alex’s voice had gone tight, and some of Bas’s earlier unease returned, now on behalf of his friend. “Is everything okay between you two? LA still on the table?”

  “We’re fine, and yes,” Alex said, righting his gaze. “But we’re likely to hit a speed bump next week. He’s been ignoring his parents’ calls.”

  “A lot of them?”

  Alex cringed. “More than a few.”

  Dane’s parents hadn’t yet accepted that their golden goose had learned to use its wings and busted out of their conservative cage, taking all the sponsorship dollars with him. They’d thought his coming out as gay would cause Dane to lose sponsors, as well as tarnish the family’s conservative reputation. In fact, he’d gained more sponsors, and Bas’s mother, a high-powered LA attorney, was in the process of making sure only Dane’s name was on those new contracts. And to hell with the family’s reputation; maybe his parents’ was tarnished, but Dane’s was shining brighter than ever.

  “They gonna cause trouble?” Bas asked.

  “Likely,” Alex replied. “They’re en route to Madrid.”

  To force a confrontation, no doubt. Bas wished he was surprised, but from what he’d seen himself, and from what he’d heard from his mother, pushback was expected. He was more surprised they hadn’t shown up already.

  “Mom’s gonna be in Madrid,” Bas said. “I’ll text her, put her on alert. We were expecting this. She’ll be prepared.”

  “I know she will,” Alex said, a smile turning up one corner of his mouth. “She’s the scariest lawyer I know.”

  “She’d be pleased to hear it.” Especially since she’d had to fight tooth and nail to get where she was today. Bas nudged his friend’s shoulder. “Listen, Cap. No matter what, we’ve all got your backs. Both of you.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said. “I’m glad we’re both here again, that you’re my second. Wouldn’t want to do this with anybody else.”

  “And we’re gonna do it this time. We’re gonna win the gold.”

  Alex captured Bas’s raised hand in a clasp. “Fuck yeah, we are.”

  Crammed together around long alfresco farm tables, the men’s and women’s swim teams helped themselves to platters of local delicacies and flasks of wine, drowning the past two days of rough practice in food and booze. A heuriger, the Viennese called it: a beer garden with wine, as far as Bas could tell. He liked the beer version better.

  With travel tomorrow and opening ceremonies in the evening, the coaches had prebooked this last hoorah in their international training city. What was supposed to be a celebration was more a commiseration. Maybe that’s what they needed. To not think about the past couple of days or the week ahead. Just enjoy this night, the here and now.

  Sensing eyes on him, Bas lifted his gaze, eyes clashing with a pair of intense green ones at the far end of the table. Bas should look away, but he’d missed Jacob’s regard and the connection between them. Flaring to life again, that connection simmered in Bas’s chest, heating more as one corner of Jacob’s mouth hitched. Bas had missed that smile too. But before it could bloom full, Coach Hartl stood at the head of h
is table and tapped his glass.

  “I’m not gonna sugarcoat things,” he said, once the chatter had quieted. “It’s been a rough couple of days, but that’s why we do international training. Get you used to being away—” he waved at the spread on the table in front of him “—and to the strange food.”

  “Come on, Coach,” Sean said. “It’s basically ham-and-cheese everything.”

  “Still can’t pronounce it.” Coach’s struggles with German had been one of the few constant sources of amusement this week. “Good,” Coach said over their laughter. “Ham it up, even if it is at my expense. That’s what you fools need, because this only gets tougher from here. Opening ceremony tomorrow will be like nothing you’ve ever seen, but come Monday, you’re in the pool against the best in the world.”

  “Not sure this is helping, Coach,” Alex called out from beside Bas.

  “Sure it is!” Coach Albert said, rising next to Hartl. “The rest of the world is gunning for us because they know we’re the best.” Her dark brown eyes swept the tables, lighting on each swimmer. “Aren’t you? Who’s the best?”

  Fists on tables and chants of “U-S-A” rose up, starting at the coaches’ table and spreading to the others, eventually loud enough for the entire hillside wine district to hear.

  “That’s right!” Hartl shouted. “You get this out of your systems. Have fun tonight and tomorrow, then we go to work. Let’s win some medals!”

  Cheers and toasts continued as teammates dug in to second helpings, the mood among them improving. Until Leah’s raised voice echoed from the far end of the table. “You’re what?” Jacob’s phone, in its burnt-orange case, slipped out of her hand and clattered onto the table. Leah recoiled from it, and Jacob, like she’d been bitten. “You’re like the rest of them?”

  Jacob turned fifteen shades of red as everyone’s attention swung their direction. Leah’s, however, shifted from Jacob, to Dane across the table, then to Bas and Alex.

  “Fuck,” Bas cursed. He had a pretty good idea what the anger was about, having been on the receiving end himself a time or ten.