Jacob had ducked out of breakfast yesterday morning, mind still a jumbled mess, not sure which path to take. Things had started to thaw between him and Bas after Media Day, and a sprout of hope had broken through the ice with Dane’s advice, but the thought of grabbing hold of it was terrifying. Instead, he focused on the things in Dane’s words he could grab hold of, confidently. Family and team and swimming. He’d bailed on breakfast, eating a slice of the delicious sausage and egg pie on the way back to his room, then napped while Sean and Kevin were out and the room was quiet. It’d paid off in his heat later that morning. He’d finished first, slated for Lane 5 for tonight’s medal race.
Between the heat and now, he’d avoided Bas, avoided Julio, and avoided the scene that Kevin and Sean had tried to bring to their room last night. “Take it to the lounge,” he’d told them, and they were happy enough for him not to be mopey that they’d obliged. He’d gone with them for a bit, celebrating their freestyle relay gold, but come time for his nightly call with home, he’d retreated to their room, given his dad his full attention, then taken a long run that knocked him out good. He’d slept through the night for the first time since . . .
He shook off the thought.
None of that.
Blocking out the distraction, he stepped through the holding area door onto the aquatic center deck for his second medal race.
Alex and Coach were waiting for him by the benches. “You ready, kid?” Coach asked.
“Ready, Coach.”
“You look good, Pup. Rested,” Alex said. He ran his hand over Jacob’s head. “And in need of a haircut. Chi-Chi-Chia,” he sang, and Jacob batted his hand away, laughing.
“That’s what this is for,” he said, waving his cap about. He stepped to the pool’s edge, splashed water onto himself, and doused the cap and his goggles, snapping them on as he straightened.
“I need to tell you what to do or you got it?” Coach asked.
“I got it,” Jacob answered, even as his eyes tracked Tall-Dark-and-Charming sauntering their way.
“Good luck, Burrows.” Smirking, Julio walked past them, his tattoos moving as if they were alive. Like Bas was here with them.
Alex stepped in front of Jacob, cutting off his line of sight and patting his cheek. “Focus, Pup.”
Jacob blinked fast, forcing the distraction away again.
None of that, he repeated.
Returning his captain’s stare, Jacob was focused and determined.
“There we go,” Alex said. “That’s what I want to see. Now, send his blimey arse to the bottom of the sea.”
The mimicked pirate accent was terrible, but Jacob’s chest expanded and warmed for his effort. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Alex tapped his cheek once more, then followed Coach to the bench. The crowd grew louder with each swimmer announced, and Jacob felt good, buoyed by the enthusiasm, as he climbed onto the Lane 5 block and lowered his goggles over his eyes. He shook his limbs loose, ignored the roaring crowd and Julio beside him, and when the call sounded for swimmers to take their marks, he bent in half and gripped the front end of the block.
It was just him and the water for the next two hundred meters. This was the race he swam best. No one could argue that. No one could take that away from him. He just had to claim what he wanted most in this moment. Staring down the lane, what he wanted most was gold.
The horn blew, and unlike the last race, Jacob was ready, his launch textbook, better than. He powered off the block, sliced through the water, and came up farther down the lane than he ever had before. Using the extra power he’d developed in training, the extra rest he’d gotten the past two days, and all the shit that had dogged him as fuel, he cut through the water. He lifted his torso, breathed, and drove his arms forward. Then sinking back in the water, swooped his arms around, pumped his legs, and propelled himself forward.
Over and over.
Four laps, legs, arms, and lungs burning.
Just him and the narrow strip of water between the ropes. No distractions.
His fingers slammed the wall at the end of the last fifty meters, and he heaved out of the water, gasping. Ripping off his cap and goggles, he splashed around in the lane and looked up at the leaderboard.
1. J. Burrows, USA
And to the right of his time, the fastest he’d ever clocked, OR/WR.
Frozen in shock, the next thing he knew, Alex and Coach were hoisting him out of the pool and into a back-pounding hug.
“You did it, Jacob!” Alex shouted over the roaring crowd. “Fucking smashed the Olympic and world records!”
“Amazing job, kid!” Coach cheered, his normally stern face awkwardly painted with a huge smile. “Another medal, Burrows. Great first outing.”
The other swimmers from his race slapped his back and offered congrats as they passed, including Julio, who’d come in second.
“Go take the post-race test and put on your track jacket,” Alex said. “It’s time to stand on top of the fucking podium!”
Finally! He was back on track, feeling like himself again, like he hadn’t let his team and family down. Just inside the tunnel, Dane, on his way out for the next event, met him with open arms. Jacob ran into them.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Dane said, lifting him off his feet.
When Dane put him back down, Jacob held out a fist. “Your turn.”
“You know it.” Dane bumped back, top and bottom, put on his real smile, and stepped out of the tunnel. The crowd went wild, and Jacob liked to think maybe he’d had something to do with pumping them up. Dane jabbed the air with his fist, high-fived Coach when he reached the blocks, and pulled his captain boyfriend into another pre-race kiss.
The crowd noise was deafening, so loud Jacob almost missed the voice behind him. “Fucking great swim, Pup.”
Spinning around, Jacob spotted Bas, shoulder leaning against the wall of the tunnel. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted Bas here to celebrate with him until he saw him standing there. “Yeah, it was. I won a freaking gold medal.” He was about to step forward, make his move, because what else was he supposed to do with all this happiness and hope, when Bas held out his phone.
“We thought it was going to blow up the locker.”
Drying his hands on the towel over his shoulder, Jacob took the phone from Bas and unlocked it. His screen filled with texts and social-media alerts, so many of them in shouty caps. He opened the text from Josh first and dropped the phone.
By his side, Bas saved it from the concrete floor. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Jacob shook his head, swallowing around the knot in his throat. With trembling hands, he took the phone back and opened the text again, turning the screen so Bas could see the picture of Josh and his dad. They were holding a US flag and smiling like they’d won the lottery. “That’s the biggest I’ve seen Dad smile since he came back from Afghanistan. I never thought . . .” He lost his words again, only finding them when Bas cradled his cheek. “I never thought I’d see him happy like that again.”
“That’s a good thing, Jacob. You did a good thing.”
“Yeah, it is. I did that,” he forced out around a riot of senses and emotions.
Happiness and relief.
Bas’s warm hand on his cheek, his blue eyes inviting.
Hope.
There was only one place for all that to go. Time to grab hold. He checked quickly that the tunnel was deserted, then launched at Bas, slamming him back against the wall and capturing his lips.
Wind knocked out of him, Bas huffed a breath against Jacob’s lips, startled, but with his next breath, he groaned and lifted his other hand, framing Jacob’s face and giving in to the kiss, tongue tracing Jacob’s lips, asking for entrance. Jacob granted it, opening for Bas and diving in himself. He pressed closer, wanting to feel Bas’s body again, thrilling when he found it hard in all the right places. Bracing his forearm against the wall, Jacob trailed his other hand over Bas’s race-shaven jaw, down his corded neck, and across his smooth chest, coming to rest over his pounding heart.
The next second, Bas was gone, tearing his lips and body away. Jacob nearly face-planted into the wall. Catching himself with both hands, he spun around.
Wide-eyed, chest heaving, and definitely turned on, Bas was holding himself back against the opposite wall. “What are you doing?”
Jacob crossed the tunnel, closing the distance between them again. “Another good thing.”
Bas slipped out from in front of him, striding a few steps down the tunnel. “This is not a good thing.”
“Why the hell not?” Jacob braced a hand against the wall, hope and happiness fleeting, doubt and confusion rushing back in. But with anger joining this time. “I don’t understand. We were together in Vienna, and then you were gone. You said one night, so I forced myself to let it go. You tried to patch things up with me and Leah, but then you were pissed when I flirted with Julio. And now you kiss me like that and say it’s a bad thing. I’m confused, Bas.”
“That’s right,” Bas said. “You’re confused. You’re nineteen, Pup. You don’t know what you really want. Leah, Julio, me: make a choice.”
Jacob shoved off the wall. “You’re a choice?”
“No,” Bas snapped, taking a step back from him.
“The only reason I gave Leah or Julio a second look was because you took yourself out of the running. I want you!”
“You don’t know what you really want.”
Stumbling like he’d been hit in the stomach, Jacob scrabbled at the wall to keep from falling. “Are you seriously throwing that back in my face? After what you said to me that night in Vienna.”
“Shit, Jacob, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” His eyes were as tossed and tortured as Jacob’s insides. He stepped forward, then rocked to a halt, hand rubbing his chest. Right over the tattoo. “Trust me, I’m not what you want. I’m no good for you.”
Not giving Jacob a chance to argue, Bas turned and stalked away, down the tunnel toward the exit. Jacob’s legs and heart were too weak to follow. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes and struggled to breathe. He’d been about to cry with joy five minutes ago, and now he was on the verge of tears for an entirely different reason.
“Burrows.”
Jacob shook his head against the wall. “I can’t deal with you right now.”
Julio kept coming, footsteps growing louder as he approached. “It’s not about you; it’s about him. And me.”
Jacob righted his gaze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He regrets leaving me.” Julio tapped his chest, right where his initials were inked on Bas’s skin. Over his heart. Where Bas couldn’t seem to stop rubbing his hand. “His biggest regret. He told me that yesterday.”
Julio’s implication was clear. Bas regretted leaving him and wanted him back. It sure as hell made more sense than Bas wanting Jacob. Tall, dark, and handsome Julio was older, cooler, charming. Not a nineteen-year-old virgin dork with fucked-up hair and crooked teeth who spouted pirate quips and couldn’t be depended on to win. And while Bas questioned that Jacob knew what he wanted, there was no question what Julio wanted. He already had Bas’s initials inked on his shoulder.
But something didn’t fit. “Bas started pulling away before we even got here,” Jacob said.
“Because I messaged him in advance.” One corner of Julio’s mouth kicked up. “Told him I wanted to see him. That I wanted to patch things up.”
Phone clattering to the ground, Jacob clutched at the wall with both hands to hold himself up.
“Cut your losses now, Burrows,” Julio said. “You got two medals out of this. More than most people can say.”
“The medley relay, though . . .”
“You think you can handle that? You choked your first race. Yeah, you won this one, but that just proves you’re running hot and cold. What’s it gonna be at the medley relay? That gold means everything to them. You want to disappoint them? To cost them the most important race here? Of their careers? The last race they may ever swim?”
No, no, he didn’t. Not even his heartache and anger would justify risking what Dane, Alex, and Bas and the rest of the team had worked so hard for.
As he stood on the medal stand twenty minutes later, Jacob hoped the spectators here, his father and family watching the live stream back home, and the millions of other viewers mistook his mournful tears for joy.