by Ali Dean
“Wanting something to be and knowing it are two different things.”
He looks stricken. “Can’t make you believe me. But that’s the truth. I wanted you. Knew it when I saw you getting out of the pool. Knew it when I danced with you. Knew it when we ate waffles at Margie’s Diner. Pure and simple. He had nothing to do with the wanting.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I tell you something like that? Why would I? It would only hurt you. Hurt us.”
I look at my feet, trying to hold the emotions at bay just a little longer, but knowing it’s useless.
“She was my roommate at that meet, you know. Your ex.”
The surprise on his face is genuine. “Sara?”
“Yeah. It was called Zones. California is a Zone, and the top people in each event at conference are on the team. We compete against each other the rest of the season, but are a team for this one meet.”
He takes that in. “It didn’t hurt me that bad, not like this does. She told me she did it because she didn’t know if I would even care, and she wanted to see how I reacted.” He reveals this with a shrug. “It hurt my ego more than it hurt my heart, and when she saw that, she had her answer. I guess we both did. Got over it pretty quick.”
“But you switched colleges for her. You were going to go here. This is where you wanted to go.”
“No, I hadn’t committed. And I was on the fence. I wanted to try a new place, new coach. Glad I did and now I know Coach Rhodes and my teammates here are who I need.”
I can’t look at him any longer. I don’t know what to say. My questions are answered. Now what?
He walks toward me, stands a couple steps down so we’re eye to eye, but doesn’t touch me.
“Shay,” he whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on with Julian?” Now he’s the one sounding hurt.
And when I realize my answer, the dam finally bursts open. “Why would I?” I repeat the words he said to me a moment ago. “It would only hurt you. Hurt us.”
His hand finally reaches for mine. “It’s not the same, Shay. Julian’s role in my past is just that, the past. But Julian was following you. Obsessing. I had no idea. Kick told me,” he adds quietly.
“We didn’t know for sure. We had no idea it was so bad. That he’d lost it like that. That he was dangerous.”
“And I had no idea my ex cheating on me would threaten us, threaten your trust in me.”
We look at each other for a long time. We both aren’t saying the whole truth. I did have an idea Julian might be dangerous, and that’s why I didn’t tell Jett, because I knew he would see it that way too, and I didn’t want to rock the boat. And Jett knew that Julian’s role in his high school girlfriend’s cheating would have rocked the boat too. It’s not the same, not exactly, but the truth is, we both just wanted to ride in ignorant bliss a little longer.
“When you saw me last night, did you really think I was cheating on you with Julian?”
Jett’s entire body tenses at my question. “I went up there looking for you, you know – Tabby told me because she wanted to make sure it didn’t cause a rift between us. And when I saw him surrounding you, my heart fucking stopped. I didn’t believe it, didn’t want to see either, but didn’t believe you would do that. And then I saw you try to push him off with your knee and move away, and I just lost it.”
“You seemed pretty controlled, actually.” I don’t try to hide the admiration in my voice.
“I got it together when I saw your face. I had to.”
“Thank you.”
My eyes lower again after I say the words, and that emotion I’ve been trying to suppress starts to bloom. I’m thankful I fought him, as I remember for an instant there, I thought I should just keep playing along a little longer. If I had, Jett might have walked away, thinking he’d seen something different.
He tilts my chin up with his finger. “Hey, this wasn’t your fault, Shay. You couldn’t have known this would happen.”
I shake my head, not ready to talk about it. He always cuts right through the bullshit, and I hate that right now. I never really understood how a girl could think a guy forcing himself on her was her fault, and that’s not really what I think now. Yet I’m still ashamed it happened. Embarrassed. And yeah, I do feel as if I should have done something to prevent it. How can Jett see all that?
“Shouldn’t you be at Nationals?” I suddenly remember he’s supposed to be racing in a relay tonight and has more events on Saturday and Sunday.
Jett shakes his head. “No, I’m here.”
“But your flight. It was supposed to leave this morning.”
“Yeah. I stayed.”
“Why? You didn’t get in trouble for what happened, did you? I told them that you were only getting Julian off me. That you stopped him!” I’ve gone from subdued to near hysterics in a matter of seconds.
“No, I’m not in trouble. Julian might have tried to tell it differently, I’m sure he did, but your story was the same as mine, and Kick and Beatrice bolstered it. It all checked out. No, I’m not at the meet because I want to be here with you. For you. You matter more.”
I shake my head, even though I don’t want him to leave. I need him here, but I don’t want to admit it.
“It’s just a meet, Shay. There will be many more.”
“What if I come with you?”
“To Kentucky?”
“Yeah.”
He considers me. “That’s a really good idea.”
We don’t ask for permission, we just buy tickets on the next direct flight and drive to the airport. When I texted Kick and Beatrice to tell them, Coach Mandy called me from Kick’s phone. She said she’d been holding it while Kick was swimming, in case I needed anything. Of course, Coach Mandy would have been clued in by someone by now, and I’m sure it’s spreading around the entire athletic department, given three of the school’s best athletes were involved. I don’t know what will happen to Julian, and I don’t want to think about it. I’m just happy to be off campus, away from it all.
Jett keeps us connected in some way the entire way from my condo to the fieldhouse in Kentucky. Our hands touching, his palm on my back, his lips on my forehead. It’s like he knows I need comfort more than anything. Part of me feels weak for it, but more of me feels grateful I have someone to lean on right now, that despite everything that’s unfolded in the past twenty-four hours, Jett and I aren’t broken, we’re stronger. And just knowing that he sees an inner strength in me, and knows what I need, that is enough to help me push aside the feelings of shame that threaten to fester inside me from Julian’s attack.
Jett finds me a chair with his teammates once we’re at the fieldhouse. He texted Keenan beforehand that we were coming, so people aren’t surprised to find me by Jett’s side. Keenan nods in Jett’s direction when he goes to the locker room to change. He’s still got time before the relay, the last event of the evening.
Keenan stays with me, and I know his seriousness isn’t just focus for the big meet. “Shay, we have your back, you know? Jett’s our boy, and you’re his girl, so we’ve got your back in this. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” His declaration makes me want to cry. Everything makes me want to cry right now. I’m a hot mess of vulnerability and relief. If I’d stayed in my room any longer, I would have felt more shame at my own fragility, and it would have been a vicious downward cycle. Being here, sitting in this chair watching athletes jog and leap around me, it’s exactly what I need to be lifted up and out of that emptiness that I was ready to let swallow me up.
Keenan and Jett leave to warm up, and some of the other teammates swing by and say hi, ask if I’m okay, let me know they are happy I’m here. I don’t feel like such an outsider. I’d rather be sitting here with Jett’s team than in the pool with my own team right now.
Tabitha walks over to me then. She approaches me cautiously, like I might start screaming at her or pounce.
“Shay, I am so sorry. I heard what
happened. Jett told me Julian heard what I said to you, that he was following you. I shouldn’t have said anything. If I hadn’t said anything, none of it would have happened. I know you probably hate me but I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t know he was listening and you didn’t know he was crazy, so stop. Besides, if you hadn’t told Jett that you’d told me, he wouldn’t have come looking for me. So I should be thanking you for looking out for us, I guess.”
As I sit there reassuring her, I realize I shouldn’t really be blaming myself either. No one could have known that Julian was losing it. That he was following me around, waiting for an opening. As I try to give myself the same reassuring pep talk I said to Tabby, she interrupts my thoughts.
“You’re tough, Shay. You don’t really look it. No offense. But look at you now. All level-headed and calm. You gonna kick some ass at NCAA next weekend or what?”
I smile at her. “Yeah. I am.”
She puts out her hand for a fist bump. “Come on, let’s go cheer for our boy.”
Tabby takes me closer to the track where some of the other girls are standing around, waiting for the relay to start. One of them tosses me a Cal U jacket. “That’s Jett’s. You should wear it.” I look around and realize everyone else is in the team warm-ups, and I’m the only one not wearing any Cal U clothes. Slipping it over my head, I join the other girls to cheer on Keenan, Jett, and their relay team. This might be the first time I’ve ever ditched swim practice, but I know the vibe here will prep me better for NCAAs than any of my workouts this season.
It’s exactly what I need.
There aren’t any rooms left at the hotel where the team’s staying. Jett and Keenan are supposed to be roommates, but Keenan offers to sleep in Anthony and Daryl’s room so I can stay with Jett. I’m not sure if he plans to share a bed with one of the dudes or sleep on a pullout.
“Keenan, no, you’re the one racing. Jett and I will share a bed anyway. Just sleep in the other one so you have your own space and get a better night’s sleep. Or I can find a room at another hotel. It’s not a big deal.” Even as I make the offer, my stomach churns at the idea. I don’t want to be alone.
Keenan brushes it off though and insists he can sleep anywhere, and besides, he’d rather listen to Anthony snore than whatever we’ll be doing in bed.
Right, okay, then.
And as soon as we are alone in the room, Jett takes full advantage. I didn’t know how badly I needed this until we’re intertwined, hands and mouths everywhere with a frantic urgency. Jett’s kissing and worshiping my body, on his knees with his lips trailing down my side, over my hip, when he stops. Looking down, I find him staring intensely at the purple bruise roughly outlining a handprint. His nostrils flare and I want to cover it, hide it from him. But then he traces it gently with his fingers, followed by his lips.
“You know I love everything about you, Shay, right?” Jett rises to his feet, lifting me onto the bed and hovering over me. “Even the bruises. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?”
It’s like he reads my mind, my soul, and I love him for it. “Same to you,” I whisper. “Now show me.”
His eyes darken but he continues to hold himself over me, not moving. “First, I want to know why you doubt us. I don’t want it happening again.”
He doesn’t have to explain what he means. “It just happened fast with us, Jett, and no matter the chemistry between us, how easy most of it came, I guess it takes time to build the trust and the faith that it’s real, ya know?”
Jett shakes his head. “Maybe that’s a woman thing. I knew it was real.”
“Maybe you’re a cocky ass like the other sprinters,” I tease, smiling. I’ve witnessed some of his competition now, and the egos on sprinters seem to take the cake compared to other athletes. He knows what I’m talking about and laughs, but doesn’t lose focus.
“When Hailey told you about my ex the first time, you went inside yourself, Shay. It scared me.”
I tell him the truth. “When I saw you with your team the first time, I was feeling a little insecure, like it was really hitting me that you’re famous, especially in the track world, and you’ve got all these cool gorgeous athletic girls who worship you. I just wondered, why me? And right when I was thinking that stuff, that’s when Hailey told me, and it was a double whammy, I guess.”
“Why you? Shay, if I didn’t know you like I do I’d think you were trying to get compliments from me.” He’s smirking.
Rolling my eyes, I go to more dangerous territory. “I guess it’s like it was too good to be true or something, and I was waiting for the moment when someone told me it wasn’t real, that it was fake. So when Tabby told me Julian was the guy Sara cheated with, I just thought, oh, there it is.”
“No, baby, no,” he says softly. “This is real. I don’t know how to show you or make you believe it. I’m just gonna keep being here, keep making it real, until it sinks in.”
“I think I’m starting to get it, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“You were about to skip Indoor Nationals to be with me. And you don’t just love track. You love it hard.” My voice is light as I remind him of our conversation, but the meaning isn’t.
He gets it. “I think you’re getting it too, baby.” And then, finally, he starts to move.
I’m not supposed to be in lane one. The NCAA championship finals. My best event. The 100 butterfly. Nerves got the best of me in the prelims this morning. Nerves never get the best of me. Okay, maybe not never, but rarely. I’m usually calm and fierce when it comes to competitions, just like Kick described me in her cheesy high school poem. This morning I was antsy. Maybe even scared. I’ve never wanted something so badly before. Even at the Olympic trials, deep down, I knew it wasn’t my time. Sure, it would have been amazing to make the team, but it was a long shot.
NCAA champion? That’s within reach. NCAA 100 fly record? Now, that’s a long shot, but I’ll still go for it. It isn’t going as planned though. I’ve held the number one fastest time in the NCAA all season, and I’m supposed to be the fastest seed going into the final. I’m meant to be in lane four, where I’ll have the best visibility, but instead, I’m in lane one, the second to slowest seed. And the same place I was for the Olympic trials nine months ago.
I’m repeating Kick’s poem in my head now. I was too wound up in the prelims and I didn’t have the mantra going like I usually do. Something about the words on repeat helps me block everything else out. The doubt. The reasons why this win is so important to me.
“Swimmers, take your mark.” I take a deep breath as I let my right foot inch forward, toes curled around the edge, left foot back and ready to spring.
Fierce. Calm.
BEEP.
My body shoots forward, smooth and compact into the water, making a minimal splash.
Slice the water
Like a weapon
Keeping my upper body tight and aerodynamic, my hips beat in a steady dolphin kick underwater. When I break the surface, my arms join the dance, and it’s easy to embrace the familiar stroke as I ride across the surface.
From lane one, I know I don’t have the advantage of vision on my competition. But I’m prepared for that. I’ve narrowed my focus to my own race today, relying solely on instinct and focus to get me in the lead. Though I can sense I’m ahead of lane two by the time I hit the first wall, I won’t know where I stand until the race is over.
Four twenty-five-yard laps. Three opportunities to work the walls, where I always get ahead. This is why I prefer short course yards to long course meters competitions. More opportunities to use my turn technique. And I do. Fingers touch, legs up, hard and concise push off, and back to the beat of the dolphin kick until I break the surface.
When halfway hits, I know I’m on fire. The good kind.
Shouting and cheering ring in my ears. At NCAA, teammates are relegated to the stands and can’t lean over the end of the pool to cheer, so I can’t tell for certain if the noise is for me.
I imagine I hear Kick and Beatrice shout my name though, and I relish in their excitement as I push off for lap three. As my rhythm falters momentarily with the onset of fatiguing muscles, I pull on the image I’ve got of standing on the top of the podium, being named NCAA champion.
The quickening of breath and muscle burn is expected and normal. It’s just the right amount to tell me I’m going hard, but there’s enough left. I’m not about to crash and burn, simply embracing the hurt as it builds with each effort to keep the beat of my body steady and strong, propelling me forward.
As I turn into the last lap and push off in one final solid streamline, I sense lane two is only just approaching the wall. I know I’ve got a lead on her, one she won’t be closing. Otherwise, I’m relying purely on my gut as I embrace the sensation that I’m winning. Though I can’t see any of the other swimmers, I just know it. And that knowledge adds a new layer of energy just as the burn in my muscles hits with ferocity. My legs kick harder. My arms pull deeper, and my core and hips urge me to keep the rhythm fluid as I burst through the final yards.
Fierce.
Calm.
Hope.
I’m usually breathing every stroke by the last lap, needing that oxygen to keep from cramping. As I note the flags above me signaling the final five yards, I keep my head down and power through the final three strokes without any breaths until my hands hit the wall. My head snaps up to the left to see if others have finished. I’m the only one.
My eyes dart to the scoreboard to confirm. It’s foggy and blurry through my goggles, but there it is. Lane 1. 1. 50.22.
My arms pump into the air and I think I scream. Wait. 50.22. 50.22!
I broke the NCAA record! Okay, now I’m definitely squealing.
This is everything. I look up at the stands toward my teammates, jumping up and down in excitement. Kick has tears streaming down her face and her emotion tells me she knows what this means to me. My eyes swing to the other section of the stands where my parents are on their feet too. Dad is beaming with pride, clapping and grinning. Mom even looks a little glassy-eyed as she stands beside him. I don’t know if this will convince her of anything, but it’s convinced me – even if I didn’t need the reassurance, having it will make this easier.