October (14 months since everything changed)
They say that time flies when you’re having fun. It flies even faster when you’re balancing thirty hours of training a week, a part-time job that you really love, and a full load of classes that are a bitch and a half because you started them several weeks late. Oh, and a relationship, because . . . well, I’m pretty sure that’s what Jeremy and I have.
It’s the last one that’s the fun part, which is probably why I blink and somehow it’s almost Halloween.
“What are you doing for the holiday?”
Jeremy gives me that blank stare he’s perfected, the one that says, What on earth are you blathering about? Maybe last year it would have bothered me, but now it just makes me laugh.
“Halloween, dude?”
We’re at his apartment, because it’s a lot more comfortable than mine, and because the deal is that if we finish this homework we can “hang out on the couch”—Jeremy’s metaphor for having sex. He’s working on some reading for a lab he has this week, and I’m outlining a term paper that’s due right before Thanksgiving.
Even after Andrey sorted things out with the university and I got my dorm back—along with, y’know, scholarship money and a nice apology because apparently someone dropped the ball and didn’t file paperwork that they needed to—I still spend most of my time at Jeremy’s. My little prison cell is lonely, and Jeremy might be quiet and robotically stoic at times, but he fills up a room so much that I feel an actual gravitational pull toward him whenever we’re together.
“Um, nothing.” Jeremy is tapping a pen on his lower lip when he looks up at me from his textbook. “We have practice that evening, and you have a college meet like two days later, don’t you?”
Yeah. I frown. I don’t mind the college meets, especially because I’m getting good enough that they’re no longer a challenge. But competing solo isn’t nearly as much fun as competing alongside Jeremy.
“Well, the bar is having a party that night. I know you don’t drink, but maybe we could stop by for a little while and check it out? There will probably be dancing.”
Jeremy looks back down at his textbook, lips pressed together. I don’t even need an answer, because I can read it on him. He doesn’t like that I still work at the bar, or that I drink, or that I want to dance with him in public.
And I knew what I was getting myself into from the start, but it still hurts every damn time.
“Anyways, it was just a thought.” I turn back to my notebook with a silent sigh.
I will never get over how intense diving is. The Winter National Championships are still seven weeks away, and already everyone is starting to freak out a bit like it’s the World Championships all over again. Preparing for competitions is exhausting, mentally and physically.
“You and Jeremy will compete together in the ten-meter synchro,” Andrey tells me one day while we’re at the pool for my one-on-one training.
It’s not as much of a surprise as I thought it would be. Jeremy and I are getting good—really good, actually. And Andrey’s obviously noticed.
“I have also entered you in the individual competition.”
That part is a shock. “What’s the point if Jeremy’s going to kick my ass?”
Andrey rolls his eyes. “I have shown you the videos of you diving, yes?”
I nod.
“So you have seen how good you are, how much you have improved.”
“I guess.”
Andrey gets this look like he wants to strangle me. It’s gone a second later, but it’s enough warning that I should back down and behave. “You won’t win in the individual,” he says calmly. “It’s true. But I think you will be surprised to see how well you do perform.”
Yeah, yeah. I nod and smile and get back to work. There’s a huge difference in the way synchro and individual competitions are scored. In the latter, it’s all about the technical performance: the execution of the dive, how tight your tuck or pike is, how smoothly you enter the water, and if you’re perfectly vertical when you do.
But synchro . . . Well, Jeremy and I are rocking that one. I don’t need to argue with Andrey about if it’s worth competing, because I can see by the fierce smile on Jeremy’s face every time we finish a practice that it is. And synchro is a combination of scores: two different sets of judges paying attention to each diver’s individual performance, and a third group watching for the synchronization between the two.
I may not be a world-class diver on my own, but Jeremy and I sync up. We hit the water at the same time more often than not, and Andrey has a permanent grin on his face when we practice. It’s almost instinctive at this point, how I know when to push off, how far out to jump, so Jeremy is right by my side.
My favorite dive that we do is our twister. When you’re diving, you have to keep your eyes open the entire time, and it’s flash-flash-flash spotting the platform, the water, orienting yourself. But when we do the twisting dives, I get a split-second flash of Jeremy as he turns.
Knowing he’s by my side as I dive is the best feeling in the world.
And sometimes we synchro dive with Val too, taking turns. It’s more for fun than serious practice; there are a few competitions that do mixed pairs, and while Jeremy would probably love to dive with his best friend, Val’s made it clear that she’s not interested in taking on another event.
In fact, I get the feeling that she would rather not dive at all, some days.
Watching Jeremy and Val playing around with synchronized dives on the springboards reminds me that I haven’t talked to Aaron in ages. I shoot him a quick text while I have a minute of downtime.
Hey, so I’m competing in the National Championship in December. They’re actually here in Ohio this year . . . would be awesome if you could come watch.
Jeremy reminds me constantly that I have a family here, with him, Andrey, and Val. But I miss Aaron too.
He responds pretty quickly. Let me check on flights.
Honestly, it would be incredible to have Aaron here. Just the thought of having someone in the stands to cheer me on makes my heart race with excitement, but I also want to introduce Aaron to Jeremy. I do the math in my head and try to determine how much my meager savings holds.
I can pitch in a bit, I tell him.
No way. Save your money. I have my job here, I can manage.
Sometimes I envy Val, whose mother pays for everything she needs—even if she is an evil harpy. Or Jeremy, whose scholarship is way nicer than mine, and which apparently covers his apartment and competition entry fees even though he doesn’t have to dive for the school this year.
“Hey, stop daydreaming and come dive.”
I glance up from my phone to see Jeremy staring at me. His arms are crossed, and he’s watching me from the locker room door, shoulder propped to hold the door open.
“Coming.” I toss the phone back in my bag. “Figured you and Val were still fooling around on the springboards.”
Jeremy sniffs. “We were practicing.”
“Babe, you know you’re allowed to have fun.”
I’m wearing him down slowly, but I don’t think Jeremy will ever associate diving with fun. To him, it’s practically a religious experience. He loves it, far too much to disrespect it by treating it like a game.
“I have fun. With you.”
I follow him back out to the pool. “Then let’s do something fun this weekend.”
“I thought you worked on Sunday?” Jeremy raises an eyebrow. It’s our only day off, so I usually work a full shift. The tips aren’t great, but I work Saturday night after practice too, and that’s where the money is.
“I’ll just work the night before and trade my Sunday shift. Maybe we can make it a regular thing to spend Sundays together.”
He’s silent while we climb the stairs to the platform. We’re only on the five-meter this afternoon, so it’s a short climb. “You mean like a date?” His voice is quiet.
I hadn’t meant it that way, but only because the d-word is about two inches below gay and sex on the list of Words That Make Jeremy Blush Wildly. But since he said it first . . . “Yeah, a date.”
We pause at the top of the platform. Five meters is still pretty high up, and I love looking around at the pool from up here, ready to jump and dive.
“Okay.” Jeremy nods.
“Okay?” That was easier than I expected.
He smiles over at me. “Sure. Yeah. Show me something fun.”
I have no money, no car, and no clue what to do on a date. But when Jeremy smiles at me, it doesn’t even matter.