July (11 months since meeting Jeremy)
Somehow, the world doesn’t end, though I get the feeling that Jeremy half expected it to do so. He came into training the day after I kissed him in his apartment, and glanced around like he was searching for proof that the world had changed around him.
But as soon as Andrey started giving commands, he was focused once again, the Jeremy that I recognized.
That didn’t stop me from flirting, though. And, oh man, did I ever. Any chance I could to make Jeremy blush, I took it. Never when he was diving; I know how much work he puts into his sport, and I wouldn’t want to sabotage that by distracting him. But I’d run my eyes over his body when he was entering the locker room at the end of the day, or brush against him as he finished cardio.
At first he jumped every single time, shame clear in the way his face turned to the floor. When I caught his eye, concerned and ready to back away, he held my gaze for a minute before nodding ever so slightly. The silent permission wasn’t enough to stop me from worrying, but he never asked me to stop, never shied away. And he started to get used to it, so that a touch on his arm after weight training wasn’t anything to blink at, and a hand to help him stand from stretching was taken with a nod.
And then he started to stare back. That was the best part and the worst, because his tentative gazes over my ink or my abs definitely turned me on, but . . . well, let’s just say that Speedos are designed to hold everything in place, but only under normal circumstances.
The first time I had to excuse myself from training, Val found me after and laughed at me for like an hour.
But it’s hasn’t been all fun and flirting. The World Championships are at the end of the month, and Andrey’s been pushing Jeremy and Val harder than ever. They’re damned good, and they seem to thrive under the pressure. Unfortunately for me, though, it means Andrey’s been upping the intensity of my training to match.
I’ve never been so sore in my life. My freezer has transitioned from being entirely frozen meals, to being frozen meals and a large pile of ice packs. I have a small-but-growing collection of tape in various colors.
And Val insisted on giving me a massage after a brutal ten-meter synchro training that left my back feeling tender.
“Oh, fuck, damn it, stop.”
Val cackles and presses harder.
I haven’t prayed since I was a kid, but suddenly I’m calling out to God and Jesus and anyone who will listen to make this torture end.
“Hush,” Val says, and presses her palm into this spot below my shoulder blade that brings tears to my eyes.
By the time she finishes, I never want to move again. Val makes me sit up and drink an entire bottle of water while she watches, hands on her hips. “You’re working a lot harder these days,” she says.
“Because Andrey’s a sadistic bastard.” I drain the bottle and hold it up for her inspection.
Val just hands me an unopened one. “Keep hydrated. It’ll help, I promise. And that’s not what I mean. You’re actually pushing yourself to meet Andrey’s demands and surpass them. You and Jeremy are diving really well together.”
Our synchro dives are definitely improving, though he’s still miles ahead of me when we go head-to-head individually. These days, however, I get a smile and advice on how to improve when I climb out of the pool instead of a cold shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Val grins knowingly. “And you and Jeremy are getting closer.”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“It’s good to see that he has another friend.”
The thing is, I’m not entirely sure that me and Jeremy are friends. I flirt, and he’s slowly unwinding enough to flirt back, and we’ve kissed exactly three times since the day in his apartment—twice in the locker room, once when I walked with him back to his apartment after a practice went late, pressing him into his front door for a quick, teasing kiss before continuing on home.
But we don’t talk. I’m still not sure what to think about him. The slurs have vanished, but he jumps whenever I mention anything gay, and getting him to open up about himself, his family, even his plans for classes next fall, only end in silent shrugs.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?”
Val raises an eyebrow. “Technically you just did.”
“Ha, very funny. I mean about Jeremy.”
Her face closes off a bit. “You can ask, but I might not answer.”
I shrug my sore muscles. “Fair enough. I was just wondering if . . . Well, why is he so afraid of his own sexuality?”
Val chews on her lower lip. “You really should ask Jeremy about that,” she says, and holds a hand up when I open my mouth, “but Jeremy won’t answer. The question itself would frighten him.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m asking you.” I’ve seen the way his eyes go wide when I mention Aaron or any of my exes, and the way he trembles with humiliation if he gets hard when I’m kissing him. Something put this skeleton in the closet, and I want to know what. “Look, I get it. You want to protect him, and you don’t want to betray him. But I— Well, I don’t want to hurt him. And I’m worried that I’m going to if I don’t know where the boundary line is. I’m not asking for the details, just where not to venture.”
The struggle on Val’s face clears as she eventually nods. “I’m not actually sure of the details myself. He doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t ask. But I know it has to do with his family.”
“His dad?” I remember the little bit of personal information that Jeremy let slip; it’s only his dad at home.
“Yeah, and his brothers.” Val’s face twists in disgust. “But that’s all I know.”
Family is the hardest obstacle to overcome, so I nod and bite my lip. It’s enough to help me start understanding Jeremy better, and that’s more than I could have asked for. I want to mention my own family, to show Val that I understand the importance of what she’s shared, but now’s not the time. Besides, I think Jeremy deserves that story first.
“Thanks.”
Val frowns and runs a hand over her face before she pulls her backpack on. “Please don’t hurt him.”
I pick up what she’s not saying: he’s been hurt enough. “That’s the last thing I want to do,” I promise.
The beginning of July means only three weeks until the World Championships. This year they’re in Frankfurt, which means Jeremy and Val will be jetting off to Europe once again. I’ll be staying behind, since we didn’t qualify for one of the synchro team spots.
“There will be other competitions,” Andrey points out.
Except I’m not sure there will be. My scholarship was for one year, and the housing allowance included in it lets me live in the dorms over the summer, but I’m supposed to be out in August. Back to Texas, I guess.
When I mention this to Andrey, he just frowns and nods. “We’re working on it.”
Still, it’s enough to have me nervous.
A year ago, I thought jetting off to Ohio would be a fun adventure, and to escape Texas and go anywhere else was a no-brainer. But it had always been in the back of my mind that it was one year away, and then I’d be back to seeing Aaron and my friends.
Now I don’t want to leave. The diving is a challenge that I never expected to enjoy. Not only that, I feel like I’m on the edge of something bigger.
My nerves show through enough that Jeremy and Val start to notice. Val gives me light massages between training sessions and remarks on how tense I am. And more than once I find Jeremy watching me with a puzzled look on his face, as though he’s not sure what’s going on.
If I was going to Germany with them, I could brush it off as nerves, although neither of them are showing any signs of being anxious about the upcoming competition. I envy them for their ability to stay calm under pressure.
Eventually they drag me off after morning training to the little hipster café that Val likes for lunch with a side helping of interrogation.
“You’re either on drugs or freaking out about something,” Val says, pointing at me with her fork. The restaurant serves affordable lunches that are high in protein, so I’m stuffing myself on this rare chance to eat out.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not on drugs.”
“Then what has you so jumpy lately?” Jeremy’s voice is quiet, and he’s studying me over his cup of water.
Suddenly I’m not hungry. I poke at my chicken before setting my fork down, stomach twisting. “I’m . . . I might be gone when you guys get back from Germany.”
Val’s expression is surprised and upset, but Jeremy—well, he looks completely blank. We talked about this at the pool back at the end of May, but I haven’t mentioned it since then.
“Explain,” Val commands.
I really don’t want to explain. I want to ignore the problem and shove it away into a box, like I’ve been doing for the last six months. But Val glares like she’s going to gut me with her butter knife if I don’t start talking. “I’m on a scholarship, you know?”
Two nods greet that. Jeremy’s technically on scholarship too, though because it’s his senior year, they’ve waived the part about him competing with the team so he can travel to pro competitions instead. Val, having already graduated, is paying her own way from what I understand. Or, rather, her parents are.
“It’s only a one-year scholarship. And, so far, no one’s said if it’s going to be renewed. I guess I could call Martin, but Andrey keeps telling me that they’re sorting something out.”
Now Jeremy sits up straighter, and his blank face dissolves into raised eyebrows. “Oh. Martin Durand.”
Val’s expression shifts to match his.
“That was the guy who brought you in to meet Andrey, back in August.” Jeremy is staring at me, but it’s obvious that his mind is eleven months ago. “I knew he was familiar.”
“You were hand-picked by Martin Durand?” Val’s mouth is gaping a little.
I have no idea what they’re talking about. “Is . . . that a good thing?”
Jeremy has that look on his face that brings me back to the previous autumn, the one that says, How are you actually this oblivious? Except this time, his exasperated frown is also tinged with fondness. “He’s the president of USA Diving.”
Oh. “Huh. Cool. He’s a nice guy but kinda boring.”
Val seems like she’s holding a laugh in. “Brandon, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. If the head of USA Diving thought you had enough potential to train with Andrey and Jeremy, then I’m sure the college will renew your scholarship. Especially since you’ve been doing well in the local meets.”
It’s nice to have the reassurance, but I’m still worried. I meet Jeremy’s eyes across the table, and he nods like he knows what I’m thinking.
When Val excuses herself to go to the restroom, he slides his chair around the table until our knees are touching.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says.
I press my knee against his harder, enjoying the way he doesn’t flinch or retreat. “I appreciate your optimism.”
Jeremy’s not an optimist, though; he’s a realist. And his words do mean more to me than I let on.
“I wish you could come with us to Germany.” Jeremy leans in a bit closer, so our sleeves brush together. “What are you going to do for the week that we’re overseas?”
My first reaction is to respond with, Pack, but that would just depress us both. “I guess I’ll take it easy,” I say instead. “It’ll be nice to have a lazy week.”
The truth is that I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve seen Jeremy and Val five or six days a week for the last eleven months, and spending a week by myself isn’t appealing.
“You should keep working out.” Jeremy has his Serious Diver face on. I’m not sure he understands the meaning of the word vacation. “And when I get back, we’ll keep training on synchro. I want us to win Nationals this year.”
My face must show my skepticism, because Jeremy knocks our knees together hard.
“I mean it. We talked about goals and things to work toward. So that should be your goal: we’re going to win gold at Nationals, and then we’ll go to the World Series again together, but this time we’ll earn our place, and this time next year we’ll be getting ready to go to the Olympics together.”
I’m sorry, did I say that Jeremy wasn’t an optimist? I was mistaken.
“Sure,” I agree, because it’s easier than trying to explain the many reasons why this dream won’t become reality. Plus, having to tell Jeremy that I don’t care about winning . . . Yeah, that’s a conversation that will take longer than our lunch break. But while I’ll never love diving the way Jeremy does . . . I’ve found myself loving the challenge of it, the thrill of jumping, the satisfaction of making my body do what I want it to do. And I love how Jeremy smiles at me when we dive well together. For him, for that triumphant grin, I’d do just about anything.
Jeremy’s eyes narrow. “I’m going to Skype you every day to make sure you’re still working out. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
I hold both hands up in surrender. “All right.”
“And you’ll be here when I get back.”
Val is returning to the table, and I track her progress through the restaurant while I think of a response. “Yeah,” I finally say. “I’ll be here.”
Even if they don’t renew my scholarship, I’ll find some way to stick around. I’ve been homeless before, after all.