A New Way to Breathe

The week leading up to regionals, I can’t keep my hands off him.

We don’t touch each other at practice, obviously, but the minute we’re alone, I am all over him. Monday night my parents are catering a retirement party at a law firm, so I go over to Levi’s house to mooch some of Oma’s beef stew.

After we finish second helpings, he passes me a tiny envelope. I carefully open it to find a Batman valentine that says:

To: Magpie From: Levi

I smile. “Why’d you get me this?”

“Oma bought me some valentines to give out at school. I guess she doesn’t know that kids don’t exchange them past fifth grade.”

“Aww,” I say. “Now I feel bad. I didn’t get you one.”

Wheel of Fortune is blaring from the TV room, which means Oma and Opa are properly distracted by Pat Sajak and Vanna White. So I scooch around to Levi’s side of the table.

“Here’s your valentine, Batman,” I say, and press my lips to his. When I pull back to look at him, he gives me a quizzical look but doesn’t object when I dive back in for more.

“Am I doing this right?” I ask between kisses.

His eyes flare. “Guys like it when girls take initiative…so yeah, this is pretty hot.” He twines our fingers together and tugs me closer so that I’m straddling his lap, his chest rising and falling as he works to catch his breath. But I don’t let him catch it—I kiss the daylights out of him.

The next day in study hall, Levi and I grab our usual spot in the back corner near a sunny window overlooking the soccer field. I like this table because somebody etched into it: math is a tempestuous lover.

Georgia and Hunter have study hall during a different period, so it’s just me and Levi. I’m working on the first draft of an essay for my English class, and he’s making faces at his biology book.

“I don’t see why I have to do this,” he complains. “I already got into college. Besides, I am an expert.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask.

“Definitely. I’ve been teaching you all about biology.” His eyes sweep the library. No one is looking our way, not even the librarian who constantly shushes me. Levi reaches over to grip my knee, sweeping his hand up my leg, gently playing my inner thigh like piano keys. Mouth at my ear, he whispers, “The knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone.”

His fingertips leave me trembling in their wake. I breathe deeply, to try to calm myself, but Levi undoes me. Taking his hand, I stand and lead him back into the stacks, peeking over my shoulder to make sure no one’s following us. When we reach the books on business, I figure it’s safe (because who would want to read about taxes?), and I get up on tiptoes and kiss his neck.

His arms come around me, drawing my body close.

“The thigh bone’s connected to the hip bone,” I whisper-sing, and he brings two fingers to my jaw, turning my head so our lips can meet. He moans softly as we kiss, gripping my hips. His warm, soft mouth glides against mine. My heart thumps. My knees go weak. My hands need to touch him everywhere. My, my, my.

The bell rings loudly. We jump apart.

At first we both make freaked-out eyes at each other, because we got totally carried away at school, but then he starts to laugh.

“Yep,” he says, straightening his sweatshirt and smoothing his hair. “Definitely don’t need any more biology lessons.”

That night at my house, we’re sitting on the den couch doing homework. He’s reading Fahrenheit 451 for English and I’m doing my calculus, which I do not understand in the least and I’m hoping will click real soon. Reclining against the armrest, I put my feet in his lap. Yeah, it’s forward of me, but he’s just so cute and it seems only fair after he riled me up in study hall today. He looks down at my socks for a long moment, then rests a hand on top of them.

We keep working in silence. When I rub my foot along his thigh, he responds by massaging it. His thumb grazes my arch, sending shivers up my spine.

“What are your parents doing?” he asks.

“Event over at the chamber of commerce.”

“Do you know how long they’ll be gone?”

“Another hour, I think.”

He sets his novel on the coffee table, plucks the calculus book from my fingers, and tosses it on the floor. Then he pushes me back on the couch and teases my neck with his lips.

“I have lesson number two for you,” he says.

“What is it?” I gasp.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens when you feel up a guy with your foot.”

He slides a hand under my shirt. I’m wearing a sports bra, which is so not sexy. Shit. Why am I not wearing something lacy and pretty? He caresses me gently, though, which helps me to relax and somewhat forget about my bra. I pull the knit cap from his head to weave my fingers through his soft hair.

Our lips meet as we get tangled up on the couch. My breathing races when his fingertips trail over my stomach. After pulling the sweatshirt over his head, I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. His back is strong under my exploring fingers, his skin smooth beneath his T-shirt. My hand moves from his back to stomach, gently tracing that line of hair pointing down from his belly button. It makes him gasp and shudder, and I love it.

He talks constantly: you feel great, you’re so pretty, should we take a snack break?

I giggle along with him at that one, our featherlight kisses growing harder and more intense.

I’m squirming beneath him and feel dampness between my legs, and it’s like he knows because he whispers in my ear, “I’m going to touch you, okay?” His fingers trickle to the top of my yoga pants. My entire body is trembling with electricity. Him touching me down there is a lot more personal than anything else we’ve done, but my body wants it. I freak out again when I remember I’m wearing cotton underwear and not something silky or lacy. At least they are black.

“Okay,” I say quietly, sucking in a deep breath.

“Tell me if you have second thoughts,” he says, sounding as nervous—and excited—as I am.

He pushes past my waistband, gently grazing against me through my underwear. It feels so good, better than I imagined. His breathing is shaky as he edges my panties to the side and begins to explore the skin where I’m most sensitive. When he enters me, his finger feels bigger than I figured it would.

“Eee!” I yelp.

He immediately pulls his hand away. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Sorry, it just felt a little different than I expected.”

We can’t seem to meet each other’s eyes. He sits back up, putting space between us, his face blazing red and confused.

“Wait,” I say. “Can we try it again?”

“You’re sure? You should never do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

I touch his strong chest. “I want to.”

He drags a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in places. Without looking directly at me, he squeezes back down between me and the couch. He caresses my back and thighs, trails kisses down my neck and whispers things in my ear: your body is incredible, relax, do you like this?

Our skin grows damp as we make out, and a full-body tremor rushes through me. When his hand dips into my panties this time, I’m ready. Wanting. Aching. His fingers move inside my underwear until I’m as shaky as he is.

“Levi,” I say, gasping into his mouth. “I need…I need—”

“I know.” He gazes into my eyes, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. “You’re close.”

How can he know my body better than I do? I decide to ignore that he has experience with other girls and focus on right here, right now, until an intense tingly feeling zaps through my body and a blinding, hot white light fills my eyes with stars.

So that’s what I’ve been waiting for.

“Wow,” I pant, dizzy, and he grins.

I relax against the armrest. He rocks back onto his haunches, kneeling between my legs, and sweeps his hair back with both hands.

We stare at each other, panting like we sprinted a mile.

“Um, shouldn’t I do something for you?”

His breathing is still a little frantic. “You already did.”

My eyes drift to the front of his shorts. He is ready to go.

“You don’t want me to spank you?” I ask, and he erupts in laughter. My joke kills the tension, at least for a few seconds. Then I lick my lips and take another peek at his shorts. I reach to touch him, but he takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles.

“Not tonight,” he says.

“Another time?”

He doesn’t answer, just slides down next to me, and spoons me from behind. His warm breath tickles the back of my neck.

“That bad?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“Was I that bad?”

“Mags, don’t be silly. Can’t you feel how turned on I am?”

It’d be hard to miss the bulge pressing against my lower back. “Then why’d we stop?”

He doesn’t answer. He sweeps my hair away from my neck, and lays his chin there, lips close to my pulse. I think about what we just did. I screeched “Eee!” in front of him. I can’t imagine how embarrassing that would be with another guy. I’m glad it happened with Levi, someone I feel safe with.

But the experience gap between us is so clear. Levi lost his virginity to an older girl when he was fifteen at a swim meet in Miami. He knows what he’s doing. Meanwhile, I’m squealing.

He and I lie in silence until my heartbeat returns to normal, and that’s when the front door opens and shuts.

Levi quickly sits up and grabs for his tennis shoes. I twist my shirt and yoga pants into place and pull my hair back into a messy ponytail. His cheeks are still red when we walk into the kitchen where Mom and Dad are bickering.

“I told you no one would appreciate the secret sauce,” Mom says. “We’re not McDonald’s.”

“I know, I know,” Dad says. “We’re—”

“King’s Royal Engagements,” Levi and I say in unison.

My parents smile at us, and Mom looks from me to Levi, pausing on our faces longer than usual. My best friend’s skin is still flushed from making out. Is mine? Mom regards us skeptically, like that time in junior high we stayed out at the lake way past dark and didn’t answer our cell phones.

Levi, thank the heavens, breaks the tension. “You got any of that secret sauce left?” he asks, and within a minute Dad is serving him up a cocktail plate packed with tenderloin and a reddish-orange sauce.

Levi tastes it, then starts chowing down enthusiastically. “It’s your aioli sauce. Why not just call it that?”

Mom sighs. “That’s what I said.”

“Because I thought secret sauce sounded mysterious,” Dad says.

“Mom’s right,” I say. “It sounds like McDonald’s, which isn’t exclusive enough for King’s Royal Engagements.”

“You could call it ‘Not your mother’s aioli sauce,’” Levi suggests.

Dad snaps and points at him. “You’re on to something.”

Mom and I groan.

She checks her watch. “Shouldn’t you two be getting to bed? You’re gonna be tired in the morning.”

Being a swimmer means having the bedtime of an elementary schooler. “I’ll walk Levi out,” I say.

After he takes a final bite of tenderloin and collects his books and backpack, I lead him to the front hall. I stand in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. He glances over my shoulder into the house, then leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. Our breath mingles together, hot in the cool February air.

“Why’d you stop me before?” I ask.

“Because I worried if I started I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

He gives my shoulder a quick squeeze, then heads toward his truck, not looking back.

• • •

When Coach told us a USA Swimming representative was coming to speak with the elite swimmers at our club, he failed to mention the Knoxville Krakens and Memphis Marines were coming too.

USA Swimming wants to keep an eye on the talent all over the country, but it’s easier for them to meet with us on a state level. That’s why Susan Kennedy is meeting three regional club teams here in Nashville after school today.

Once I’ve changed into my swimsuit and sweats, I join Levi in the stands next to the pool. His nose is buried in the paperback he’s reading.

“Hi,” I say, sitting down so close our hips touch.

His eyes don’t leave the words on the page, but he smiles. “Hey, Mags.” He gently pats my knee. Part of me wishes he’d leave his hand there, to calm my nerves, but he uses it to turn the page in his book, which, based on the cover, appears to be about a trio of warlocks and their girlfriends on a beach vacation.

The heavy double doors to the aquatics center open, and in march swimmers from Knoxville and Memphis, the Krakens in silver sweats and the Marines in green. Roxy leads the Marines to the stands. When climbing the stairs past me, Roxy pretends to trip, ramming her foot into mine.

“Ow,” I say.

Levi looks up from his book, giving me a weird look. Then he sees her.

“Hi, Levi,” she flirts, moving to a seat directly behind us. We ignore her.

“What are you doing here, Maggie?” Roxy asks. “I thought this was a session for elite swimmers.”

“I know, right?” I say. “Considering I’m way better than you, this session’ll probably be a waste of my time.”

Levi smirks at me sideways.

Coach Josh blows his whistles. “Okay, everybody, settle down. Everyone put your phones on silent please.” Coach waits as everyone quiets. “Levi, put that book away.”

Levi grumbles, snapping his paperback shut.

Coach introduces Ms. Kennedy, a woman dressed in a white polo shirt, blue track pants, and tennis shoes. “Susan was an assistant US women’s coach for the 2012 London Olympics. We’re lucky to have her here today.”

As we applaud politely, Levi points out a man sitting several rows away. “It’s the sports reporter I met with last Friday. The guy who’s doing the story on me.”

I crane my head to check him out. Wow. It’s amazing that a reporter from the Tennessean, the biggest newspaper in the state, is here covering the session with Ms. Kennedy. With the press here, it will be crucial to be on point today.

Ms. Kennedy begins by giving us a pep talk about how we’re the future of this sport. “The main reason I’m here is get a sense of your training and make sure your form is correct. Any one of you could be a future gold medalist. The next Michael Phelps.”

“Well, not me,” I whisper to Levi. “Because I have girl parts.”

Levi laughs at my joke, earning us glares from Coach Josh and Ms. Kennedy.

“I can’t wait to see the talent here today,” Ms. Kennedy says. “Everybody line up by the pool. Before you dive in, tell me your name.”

One by one, Ms. Kennedy watches every swimmer swim each stroke. Jason and Susannah head to the rear of the line. Levi and I end up in the middle, with Roxy right behind us. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she’s trying to get his attention. And really, who could blame her?

He’s hot.

Levi strips out of his blue New Wave sweats. I should be concentrating on psyching myself up to impress Ms. Kennedy, but Levi looks so good in his Speedo. His abs are perfectly defined. His torso is a flawless V. Seeing his golden body reminds me of last night, how he explored me but avoided my touch.

“Good luck,” he says to me, before diving into the pool.

Levi demonstrates his freestyle stroke for Ms. Kennedy, moving through the water at a rapid pace. She consults her stopwatch as she jots down notes on her clipboard, looking impressed.

When Levi emerges from the pool, she declares his form “Flawless.”

He removes his goggles, smiling. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“We’re looking forward to seeing you in Omaha this summer.”

Levi and I beam at each other, excited USA Swimming is keeping an eye on him.

“Next up,” Ms. Kennedy says.

I walk up to the blocks. “I’m Maggie King.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie,” she replies with a smile. She makes a checkmark on her board. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I leap from the blocks into the pool, swimming free like a fish through the warm water. At the other end of the pool, I flip into my turn and change to breaststroke for my return. Next I demonstrate butterfly and end with backstroke. Ms. Kennedy walks alongside the pool, examining my every move.

I climb out of the water, hopeful she’ll say “Flawless” like she did with Levi. Instead, she motions for Coach Josh to join us away from the other swimmers. “Maggie, your freestyle looks great. You have a lot of potential there, but I want to see your starts in back again. Can you jump back into the pool and do a few more for me?”

I furrow my eyebrows. It’s embarrassing to do this in front of Roxy, but I follow Ms. Kennedy’s instructions. I demonstrate five starts, then climb back up to join her.

She’s chewing the end of her pen. “Three of those were perfect, but two worried me.”

Oh no. This is my favorite stroke. My best stroke. “What’s wrong with it?”

“When you shoot off backward from the wall, you’re a little too high above the water. This is causing your feet to drag. It’s slowing you down.”

“Oh. I never noticed that.”

Ms. Kennedy smiles kindly. “Unless you fix it, I’m afraid you’ll spend entire races making up for the ground you lose at the beginning. You’ve got great power—that’s what’s kept you competitive. But if you want to reach the next level, you need to improve your start.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll work on it.”

Coach and Ms. Kennedy trade ideas, suggesting videos that I should watch, along with some exercises to correct my form. But I’ve been pushing off the wall the same way for ages. It’s like asking me to change how I breathe.

Once she dismisses me, I look around for Levi. I find him gazing over at me. Lines of concern crease his forehead.

Without thinking, I beeline for him and lean against his side. He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to work on my starts in back.” I relay what Ms. Kennedy told me. “My form sucks.”

“We’ll fix it.”

“That’s like telling me to start writing with my left hand.”

“Mags.” He takes me by both shoulders to look me straight in the eye. “We’ll fix it.”

Someone splashes into the water. I turn around to see Roxy’s aggressive freestyle racing across the pool. I bite my lip. She’s getting better and better.

It seems Susan Kennedy agrees with me. Roxy climbs out of the pool to get her critique.

“Flawless.”

• • •

The newspaper article about Levi comes out two days before regionals.

We’re tapering again today, so we have lots of leftover energy. Between sets when I’m leaning against the edge of the pool, Levi tickles me under the water.

“Stop it,” I say, but he tickles me again.

I push him away.

He dips his head to whisper in my ear. “Want to play sharks and minnows? See, now you’re a little minnow swimming along and I’m a big, hungry shark.” He touches my waist under the surface where no one can see. “And when I catch you I’m gonna eat y—”

“Maggie, Lucassen, get going!” Coach Josh says, pointing toward the other end of the pool. It’s a good thing break is over because my face is on fire at Levi’s words. He says the naughtiest things. And I kind of love it.

After finishing my morning laps, I climb out of the pool to find Coach Josh poring over the newspaper. I slip my feet into my sneakers and walk over to him, toweling off at the same time.

“Is that it?” I ask, smiling widely. I can’t wait to see what the Tennessean wrote about my friend. I reach out a hand to take it from Coach, but he snatches it away from me.

“In my office. Now.”

Okayyy. His reaction is kind of over the top. I tried to grab a newspaper from him, not his wallet.

I glance over at Levi, who shrugs at me as if to say, Yeah, Coach is a weirdo, but he’s a talented weirdo, so put up with him, we must.

I slip my hoodie and pants on over my swimsuit, and follow Coach into his office. Could he have heard what Levi whispered about me being a minnow and him being a shark?

“What’s wrong?”

He puts the newspaper down on his desk. “Did Levi mention the article was going to be about him and Roxy?”

“What?” I rush to pick up the newspaper. The headline reads Tennessee’s Untouchable Talent.

“Shit,” I mumble, my fingers shaking, rattling the paper as I scan it. The reporter even quoted Susan Kennedy, who said, “Levi Lucassen is on his way to becoming a star, and Roxy Coulter is one to watch.”

I find a sentence where Levi said I’m the one to beat, but the paper doesn’t mention me otherwise.

“How did this happen?” I ask. “Why wouldn’t they feature me? I won 200 back at the Summer Sizzler!” Of course, Roxy couldn’t compete because she had a strained shoulder…

Coach comes around the desk and places a hand on my back. Together we stare down at the front-page feature. The picture of Roxy shows her standing next to a blue swimming pool, but no one will even notice the shimmering water because she’s so gorgeous. She has black hair with purple and pink streaks in it, she’s tan, and her diamond nose stud makes her appear exotic. The article mentions how she has ten thousand Twitter followers, and how people love watching the swimming videos and swimsuit pictures she posts. I only have about five hundred followers, and they’re mostly people from school and the pool.

Seeing her picture next to Levi’s cute face makes me feel sick.

Coach wads up the newspaper and tosses it in the trash can. “I wanted to talk to you about the article before you saw it on your own because you need to hear this from me—the media always gets it wrong. She’s not the best swimmer in this state. You are.”

I bite into my lower lip. If I’m the best swimmer, why was her time better than mine last weekend? Why do I have problems with my starts?

It’s as if Coach reads my mind because he says, “She swam faster than you because you didn’t stick to your training. You wasted your energy at the start of the race instead of building steadily. And we’re going to nail your starts. Susan Kennedy asked that I keep her updated on your progress.”

A smile begins to form on my face. “She did?”

“You bet she did. We’re not going to think about this article again, understand?”

“Yes.”

I leave his office to hit the showers. A tear slips out of my eye as I stand under the hot water. It rolls down my face. If I could only travel back in time to that day I met her at Normandy Lake. Instead of encouraging her to try out for New Wave, I would go back to playing poker with Levi on a towel on the sand.

I come out of the locker room to find Levi’s already dressed in his usual hoodie and running tights with athletic shorts on over them. His blond hair is wet and slicked back, and he’s wearing headphones. When he sees me, he slips them off and dangles them around his neck. I don’t even care who sees, I walk straight into his arms and hug him tight.

“I didn’t know,” he whispers.

“I know. They probably chose her for the article because she looks interesting.”

Levi edges slightly away from me and glances around the empty hallway, then kisses my cheek. “If we didn’t have to go to school right now, I’d show you just how much more interesting you are. You’re a minnow and I’m a shark.” He playfully growls in my ear.

That night at his place, it sure does get more interesting.

Once we’re positive Oma and Opa are zonked out, Levi has me in his bed. He was totally holding out on me when he said I didn’t need hookup lessons. Because it turns out I do. I really, really do.

“Do you own Superman underwear?”

He gives me a look. “No. I do not own Superman underwear.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wish I had Superman underwear? Do you have a fetish?” He starts tickling me.

“Ahhh! Stop. No, I do not have a fetish I just…I just…I don’t know!”

He pulls me on top so that I’m straddling him. “Is this your way of saying you want to see my underwear?”

How can he be so up front? Yeah, I’m talkative out of bed, but in bed my voice clams up. I decide to go for it. I reach for the waistband of his athletic shorts.

He pries my fingers away. “Nope. You gotta tell me what you want first.”

“But why?” I whine.

“If you aren’t comfortable enough to tell a guy what you want, you shouldn’t be in bed with him. Okay?”

“Okay…well, I want to do whatever I want without having to ask.”

“Maggie,” he chides, teasing me.

“Fine. I want to take off your shorts.”

He releases my hands from his grip. I tug on his waistband again and he helps me to edge them and his running tights all the way off. He’s wearing a pair of dark navy boxer briefs. Underwear are not that dissimilar from swim briefs if you think about it, but this still feels super different. It’s more intimate.

With a shaky hand, I reach down to touch him through his boxers, carefully exploring where he’s sensitive, and as his breathing begins to race, his mouth captures mine.

“Maggie,” he breathes between kisses. Hearing him pant my name excites me, and I reach past the waistband to wrap my fingers around him. His hand covers mine, to stop me from moving. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” I say quietly, and after a long look in my eyes, he releases my hand. With a hot flush gliding over my skin, I begin to move up and down again.

“You can grip me a little harder,” he pants with a heated stare.

“Won’t I hurt you?”

“You feel amazing.”

I’ve never touched one before, and it’s not what I expect at all. It’s hard and silky…and big. I sneak a peek at it. “Oh no.”

He jerks himself to a sitting position. “What’s wrong?”

“How in the world would that ever work? You know, with sex…and fitting?”

With a small smile, my best friend reaches out to touch my flushed cheek. “Don’t worry, when you’re ready to do it with somebody, it’ll work.”

“Are you bigger than everybody else?”

He smiles again. “I don’t think so. I’m normal, I guess.” But I notice he puffs his chest a little at the compliment. Boys.

We lie back down on the bed together. He runs his hands across my back, soothing me.

“Don’t be scared of it,” he says as I take him in my hand again. “When you’re getting ready to have sex, make sure you do plenty of foreplay.”

My body catches on fire at that word. “Like, handcuffs and whips and stuff?” I tease.

He drops his face into the crook of my neck, cracking up. “No! Not that kind of foreplay. I’ll show you what I mean.” He flips me onto my back and pushes my arms above my head, circling my wrists.

I free myself from his grip and say, “Nope. You have to tell me what you want. You can’t just show me.”

“You’re evil.”

I wink at him. “I learned from the best.”

“I’ll tell you what I want. I want you wearing Catwoman underwear,” he says, making me die laughing. “Are you wearing Catwoman underwear?”

He lifts my shirt over my head and tugs my leggings down. Tonight I made sure to wear panties to match my lacy blue bra, which draws a gasp out of him. His eyes scan me appreciatively. He lies on top of me, fitting his warm body to mine, and I wrap my trembling arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. I can’t believe we’re kissing in our underwear. Being physical with a guy is a part of my life now, and I love it. I feel like a woman.

As I continue to explore his body, he uses his hand to pleasure me again like the other night until a shockwave jolts through me. I gasp at its intensity.

“God, Maggie,” Levi growls.

Then Pepper jumps on the bed, noses her way between us, and starts licking my face.

“Pepper, baby girl, no! That’s my job,” Levi says, and I can’t help but giggle as he wrangles his dog off the bed in his boxer briefs. When he joins me again, his smile is bursting at the seams.

I am having such a good time, but it gets even better when he dips his lips to my ear. “This is what I mean by foreplay. I’m going to drive you crazy with my mouth.”

And he does.

And oh my god.

Oh my god.