As he and Jason lined up for their last dive, Tim wondered if Isaac was watching. The prelim swimming had been wrapping up on the other side of the Aquatics Center when the diving finals began, but Tim hadn’t seen Isaac since that morning. Likely he’d gone back to the Athlete Village to nap.
It was probably just as well.
They had 402 points heading into their last dive. They’d been in the second spot going into the final, so they were diving second-to-last, before the Chinese. That was good news; they wouldn’t have to wait long for the final result. But they were going to need ninety points to win a medal. The Italians currently had 485.5 points and the Brits had 490.6.
At the top of the platform, Jason nudged Tim with his shoulder. “We got this.”
“If we win gold tonight,” Tim said, “Isaac will sleep with me. We have a deal.”
“Guess we better win, then.”
Jason held up his fist, so Tim bumped it. They walked forward to the edge of the platform.
The dive was ridiculously difficult. In fact, it had the highest difficulty in the competition. The Chinese had a higher cumulative difficulty score, but this dive was Tim and Jason’s trump card. They’d been routinely nailing the dive in practice, but it had been shy of perfect in competition all year. They jumped backward, did two and a half somersaults in the air, then straightened out to twist twice before hitting the water. Completing the rotations and the twists took every bit of strength Tim had. That they had to do the dive at the same time in perfect synchronization made all of it that much tougher.
But this dive was in their grasp. Jason seemed more relaxed than Tim, which was a good sign. And really, Isaac was only a factor here insofar as he was on Tim’s mind. Tim knew they’d sleep together before the Olympics ended, probably several times, and he was eager for it.
But now he had to dive.
He and Jason stood in position at the edge of the platform. “Ready?” Tim asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay. One, two, three, go.”
Then they were in the air. Tim could see Jason out of the corner of his eye, but he flew and had to maintain control. He used his core strength to pull into the tuck, hurled himself around twice, pulled out into the twist, caught sight of Jason again—who was right there beside him—sighted the water, and went in.
He’d gone in straight. The dive felt good. No major mistakes.
When he surfaced, Jason was screaming.
“Oh my God!” Jason said. “Oh, my God, we did it!”
What they’d done remained to be seen, but it seemed like they’d dived successfully. Jason knew as well as anyone that if you did it wrong, you could feel it.
They both swam to the side of the pool and got out, but Jason was still pumped, jumping up and down and shouting. He pulled Tim into a hug.
Tim slung an arm around Jason and walked him back away from the pool so they could wait for the score to come in. Donnie approached with a grin on his face. “Amazing, you guys. Just amazing. I’ve never seen you dive like that in competition. That’s gotta get you nines, at least.”
Jason turned toward the scoreboard. Tim wanted to ward off disappointment, but he turned as well.
Score for the last dive: 92.6. That put them at 494.8 for the day, which shot them into first place.
“Only the Chinese left,” Donnie said.
For a brief moment Tim pictured himself on top of that podium again, someone draping that gold medal around his neck. His pulse shot up, his heart pounded, and the image was so vivid, he felt like he could have reached out and touched it.
He watched on the monitor as the Chinese divers walked to the edge of the platform. Their dive had a slightly lower degree of difficulty, but it was tenths of a point, so if they executed it better than Tim and Jason had done their dive, the gold was theirs. They also started backward, hurled off the platform, pulled into pikes, did two and a half somersaults before pulling out into a twist and entering the water. They executed the dive as if they were mirror images of each other, the most perfect dive synchronization Tim had ever seen. And they went into the water perfectly vertical with impossibly small splashes.
“They’ll win the gold,” Tim said, feeling a little defeated.
“But you’ll win a silver,” said Donnie. “That’s not a small thing.”
It wasn’t. And when the Chinese score went up—94.5, giving them an overall score of 496.2 for the day—Tim tried to be excited that he and Jason were the second-greatest dive team in the world.
The final scores were posted, with Tim and Jason in silver-medal position, and Jason lost his goddamned mind, jumping and hopping and hugging Tim, and Tim found his enthusiasm so infectious that he forgot all about the Chinese and went with it.
He’d won a medal at the Olympics. Donnie was right; that wasn’t a small thing.
Chapter 12
THE DIVE team seemed reluctant to party until the early hours, since the women had their individual springboard preliminary rounds the next day, so Tim called it an early night. Besides, he and Jason had to get up early to go on TBC’s morning talk show. The car was picking them up at eight. Plus, now that the adrenaline had worn off, Tim was exhausted.
But when he got back to his room, he found a note slid under his door. “It’s not a gold, but I’ll accept it. Room 308. I’m there all night.”
“Well?” Jason asked.
“I’m gonna go see Isaac.”
“Good luck.” Jason winked.
“You won’t… I mean, if you hook up with that British diver, you won’t mention this, will you?”
“My lips are sealed. I promise not to tell anyone.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Tim gave Jason a hug again, congratulated him on the medal, and went upstairs.
Isaac opened the door with a grin. He held the door open for Tim this time instead of yanking him in for a kiss, which was a little disappointing, except the fatigue was starting to settle in. So Tim breathed deeply and took in Isaac and the room. Isaac wore a faded USA Swimming T-shirt and a pair of blue warm-up pants. He looked good, relaxed, a little disheveled.
“Did you race tonight?” Tim asked.
“Yes, but it was just a semifinal. I’ll win another medal tomorrow.” He grinned. “You, however, have won a silver in an event the guys on TV didn’t think you had a shot in.”
Tim balked. “Really? They said that?”
“I watched the American broadcast in the lounge between sessions today. Mostly they kept pointing out that Jason was untested at this level of competition and they thought he’d get nervous and tense up.”
“Somehow he didn’t. I think I was more nervous.”
Isaac smiled. “Where’s your medal?”
“In my room… which I’ll have to return to in the morning. I’m supposed to rendezvous with Jason before we go to the broadcast center for interviews.”
“That’ll be fun.” Isaac led Tim into the room and pointed at the bed, so Tim sat. He was thankful for it, leaning back and relaxing into the mattress, willing himself to stay awake because he didn’t want to fall asleep and miss a moment with Isaac.
Isaac didn’t sit, though. Instead he paced along the length of the bed, hovering over Tim, and said, “Speaking of TV appearances, here’s a puzzle for you. Marcus Holt wants to do an in-depth interview with me.”
“The guy from Wake Up, America!? Does he want to talk about rehab and all that?”
“I think so. He wants to put the emphasis on my recovery, but I think it’s only really worth doing if I talk about the whole shebang. I can’t decide if I should, though. Like, do I talk about everything I went through? On one hand, it might be good to get it all out there. On the other hand, all my business will be out there. I’m starting to get calls about endorsement deals and sponsorships again, and I don’t want to jeopardize that. I feel like talking about the last three years will only remind people that I’m an alcoholic, and that’s not exactly the guy you want reppi
ng your sports apparel brand, you know?” Isaac sighed and sat on the bed finally. “It may depend on how the next few days play out.”
“Okay.” Tim tried to come up with something better to say. Which path was correct? Tim could see arguments for doing the interview—being honest, possibly helping someone watching at home who struggled with the same demons Isaac had. Or staying mum—keeping the public out of his private life and earning some money. Tim’s own endorsement and sponsorship money paid his mortgage because it was hard to hold down a job when he was training, so he understood why that money would be important. He shook his head, unable to come up with any decent answer to the question.
“Do you think I should do it?” asked Isaac.
“That’s really up to you. I mean, I think it could be great. You could be an inspiration to someone struggling. This could be the move that makes your career. Or not. I don’t really know.” Tim bit his lip because he thought there were two possible outcomes to the interview: either everyone would drop Isaac like he was a toxic hot potato, or everyone would see what an inspiration he was and fully embrace him. And if the first thing happened, Tim didn’t want to be the one who’d talked Isaac into doing something that ruined his career.
Isaac nodded slowly like he was mulling it over. Then he smiled. “Sorry, I don’t mean to steal your thunder. You looked great today. You and Jason both, but you especially. I can see why everyone says you’re so good.”
“Everybody says that?”
“Yeah. Although also, you look amazing in that tiny bathing suit.”
Tim smiled and patted his hard belly. “It’s why I’m not allowed to eat sugar during the competition season. The men in my family tend to get doughy. I’m fighting against genetics.”
“No sugar at all? Winning a silver medal has to at least deserve a cupcake or something.”
“Not all of us swim enough to burn off six thousand calories a day.”
Isaac winked. He seemed to be in a good mood, at least. “So how tired are you?”
Tim knew what Isaac meant, so he replied, “Pretty tired. Now that I’m winding down from the victory high, I’m getting sleepy. Winning a medal takes a lot out of you.”
“I have to swim three times tomorrow. A prelim, a semi, and a final. I mean, I feel good now, but if you’re tired….”
Tim laughed. “You know? There’s a part of me that’s like, ‘Forget your exhaustion, let’s just do it.’ But good God, even my bones are tired.”
“It’s a feeling I’m familiar with.”
Tim laid his head on Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac slung his long arm around Tim’s back, so Tim snuggled in closer. He liked being pressed against Isaac. He’d liked waking up with him too. This second night in a row spent together implied nights like this might become a habit. The bed in the room was barely wide enough to comfortably accommodate them. And though Isaac had a coveted single, the room was tiny—Tim had seen bigger closets. But it was private, and it smelled like Isaac.
Isaac kissed the top of Tim’s head. “I’m honestly also a little superstitious. I can’t think of a rational reason for sex to affect my performance, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that it might.”
“Maybe we should put it off until after you’re done. That’s only, what, four, five days? That’s nothing.”
Isaac laughed softly. His warm breath feathered across Tim’s face. “Sure. Nothing. No big deal. I spent part of the afternoon watching you parade around in the tiniest of swimsuits, secretly hoping that little Speedo would slip off so I could see the goods and get all hot and bothered, fantasizing about our night together. I’ve been hard half the night. But okay, let’s put off doing something about all this sexual tension for another week.”
“Did you hook up with anyone at the last Olympics?” Tim asked. He didn’t want to know the answer so much as he wanted to get to the bottom of the sex thing. Because though the fatigue was starting to really drag him down and he doubted he’d be able to get it up, let alone stay awake long enough to do much more than kiss, he wondered if there was anything to the superstition about it affecting performance.
Isaac hesitated. “Well, I did. With, uh, more than one person. Male and female. But it was after the swimming ended, and I was drunk.”
“Oh.”
“Not something I’m particularly proud of.” Isaac looked off into the distance. “I have a lot of regrets about four years ago. But I want you to know, I have no regrets about anything that has happened between us. Your friendship means a lot to me. If we never have sex, I’m still glad I met you and that we’ve gotten to spend so much time together.”
“Same for me.”
Isaac leaned away and met Tim’s gaze. “You’re about to conk out, aren’t you?”
“I really am. I’m sorry. I thought I could stay up late, but I don’t think that’s happening.”
“Lie down. I’ll be right beside you. Maybe I’ll start the long process of dealing with all the nonsense on my phone.”
“I haven’t even looked at mine. I saw my parents after the medal ceremony. I’m with you now. Everyone else can wait for tomorrow.” Tim yawned.
“All right, kid, time for bed.”
“I should probably sleep for a little while.”
Isaac smiled and nudged Tim under the covers.
ISAAC WAS still awake when he felt Tim stir. He glanced at the clock. It was coming up on two in the morning, and Isaac knew he should be asleep, but he was full of restless energy. His whole body hummed with it. He needed rest, though—the schedule for the next three days was grueling.
He’d sorted through the text messages at least. His email and social media notifications were a lost cause. He rarely gave out his phone number, though, so the text messages had been limited to the friends and family who weren’t in Madrid.
His mother and sister were in Madrid; at least one of them had been to every swim event so far. Isaac agreed with Tim; that mattered most. He hadn’t seen much of them, but knowing they were here, supporting him, helped him feel like he wasn’t alone. His sister, Abby, hadn’t come to the last Olympics—they’d been on the outs at the time over Isaac’s drinking—so the fact that she was here now meant a lot. She believed in him again. He held on to that as if it were something precious.
There was a text from Abby in the mix, asking him if there were bedbugs in the Athlete Village—considering his mattress had still had plastic on it when he’d arrived, he felt confident saying no—but otherwise it was all just giddy congratulations, so he responded to everyone (most with a “thanks” and a medal emoji) and was about to toss his phone aside when Tim stirred and rolled over. He got close enough to the edge of the bed that when Isaac reached out to keep him from rolling off, he became startled and woke up.
Tim settled onto his back and blinked at the ceiling a few times. He looked over at Isaac. “Hi.”
“Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, but I expect hitting the floor when you rolled off would have been more jarring.”
Tim yawned. “They should let us have bigger beds.”
“The organizers probably didn’t imagine a lot of sharing.”
“Ugh. It’s like being in college again.” Tim lifted his head up and slammed it back onto the pillow; then he shifted his weight, clearly trying to get comfortable.
Isaac chuckled.
Tim rolled onto his side, alongside where Isaac sat at the head of the bed. Tim put his arm around Isaac’s waist and snuggled closer. A man could get used to this.
A few moments later Tim’s breathing evened out and he went back to sleep.
Isaac put his phone down and shifted on the bed a little. Tim shifted with him but didn’t wake up. Isaac supposed it came with the territory; in his years of traveling to swim meets, he’d slept in some strange places. There’d been a World Championships years ago in Japan in which the housing had been nice, but on a particularly noisy street in Tokyo. Isaac had roomed with Luke, and Luke had expressed amazement that Isaac had bee
n able to sleep at all. But sometimes an athlete needed to sleep, and Isaac had essentially willed his body to shut down.
He put his arm around Tim and held him close. They hadn’t even done anything except kiss, but Isaac was drawn to this man who lay in his arms. He was glad that part of him still worked, even if the relationship was doomed because of sport and geography.
He started to drift off himself when Tim stirred again and tightened his arms around Isaac. “You’ll come visit me in Colorado, right?”
“Sure,” Isaac said, although it felt like a lie.
“I have a place in the mountains. Which sounds super luxurious, but I promise, it’s just my house.”
“I have a shitty apartment in Raleigh, so you can visit me there, but I bet it’s much less nice than your house.”
“You’ll make money from swimming again.” Tim sounded tired but certain. “A few gold medals can do a lot to make sponsors forget your past indiscretions.”
“Is your implication that I’ll be able to afford a better apartment?”
“Yeah.” Tim propped himself up on one elbow but kept touching Isaac, running his fingers over Isaac’s abs. “I can’t imagine what the last couple of years have been like for you. But you can put it behind you now, right?”
Isaac wasn’t so sure; so much of what he had experienced was tightly woven into who he was now. But he said, “I certainly hope so.”
“You have regrets?”
“Of course.”
“During my interview for the network package, the reporter asked me if I have regrets. I don’t. Well, I regret that I let Pat manipulate me as long as he did, but I don’t regret coming out. It’s important, you know? To show young kids that they can do anything and it doesn’t matter if they’re gay or half-Asian or whatever.”
“You’re half-Asian?”
“My mother is Filipino.”
“I didn’t know that. I mean, I guessed you were biracial, but it felt rude to ask about it.”
“I always assume my eyes are the giveaway, but you’re not the first person not to realize it. I’ve had people guess Latino. My parents are always at my big events and get lots of camera time on the American broadcast, so I assume everyone knows, which is maybe presumptuous.” Tim sighed and shifted his weight slightly. “But my point is that by coming out, I’m saying to the world, hey, I’m gay and I can do this. I’m a proud, talented man. I think the Olympics are kind of the great equalizer in that way.”
Here Comes the Flood Page 12