50. Delia
Fifty
Delia
S wim season is officially brutal. The team, the coach is way more hardcore than my last swim team and I’m feeling it in every ragged breath I heave while swimming, in every muscle in my body.
Wet ice splatters against the window as we drive. The evening is bright but wet. Flurries of wind send up splatters of slush from the pavement and the road. Besides this team being more competitive and better trained than I’m used to, there’s the diving team.
There’s freaking Langdon in an itty-bitty speedo at the deep end of the pool doing complicated dives, contorting his body into positions I didn’t think possible. He’s beautiful and glorious and God-like. Wet, basically naked, all sinewy muscles on display. He’s a serious distraction and Coach knows it.
“What do you do in the locker room that takes so long?” Langdon asks.
I look over at him as he drives me home. “Huh? What do you mean? I was super speedy today.”
“Practice was out at seven. You were out at seven-thirty,” he says. But not in a mean way. He’s being playful.
I blow out a breath. “Ugh, Coach made me do an extra hundred tonight.”
“What? Why?” he asks.
I bite my lower lip and stare out my window a beat. “Well, he said I was, uh, distracted and needed to focus.”
Langdon gapes at me. Mouth hanging open in disbelief. “That’s BS.”
It’s sweet that he automatically defends me. That he thinks of me as dedicated and hardworking.
I snort. “Actually,” I drawl, “it’s accurate. I was watching you dive and got lazy. I definitely didn’t sprint when I was supposed to. You’re a bad influence.”
The truck slows as Langdon comprehends what I’ve just said. Gradually picking up speed again as it sinks in. “You were watching me?”
I turn to face him. “Yeah. And it’s distracting, You’re all naked and glistening up on the board. Maybe dial it down so I can swim tomorrow,” I joke.
Langdon laughs. “For you—I’ll cut the shit so you can practice.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” I playfully slap him on the shoulder.
“Are we still on for dinner before the meet Friday? ”
“Yes, but are you sure you wanna do this?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
***
Mom pushes some hair away from my face. “Why are you so antsy?”
“It’s a team dinner and Langdon wants to go together.”
“Yeah, you’re both on the team. What’s weird about that?” she asks.
“His friends on the team don’t really like me.”
Mom’s eyes widen in mock surprise. “What? What’s not to like?” she asks.
I roll my eyes at her and shoot Gramps a pleading look. Please help me. He shrugs with a lopsided grin from the couch.
“They’ve been his best friends since like, elementary school, and they’re all popular and run the school. Hailie included. And for some reason, him dating me, hell even him just being a friend, pisses them off.”
“It sounds like they’re jealous of you. You threaten them,” she says.
“Yeah right. I’m not cool enough for their group. Letting me in for Langdon’s sake basically throws the scales of coolness off balance. That’s what they’re bothered by. But they’re his friends and I feel bad that he keeps choosing me over them. He shouldn’t have to choose.”
Mom squeezes my shoulder. “If they were really his friends, they wouldn’t make him choose. Langdon’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions. If he chooses you, you need to accept that it’s what he wants.”
I grab my duffle bag, double-check that my towel, bathing cap and team suit are in it and notice Langdon’s headlights bouncing through the trees toward the house. “Yeah. Maybe,” I say. “You’re coming to the meet, right? And Gramps?”
Gramps grunts his yes from the living room. Mom smiles and tells me she wouldn’t miss it.
Outside Langdon honks. It’s raining. Typical cruddy post-Thanksgiving weather. All dreary and gray, gearing up for cloud-covered skies and snow and bitter temperatures. I wave on my way out and scramble to Langdon’s truck with the hood of my sweatshirt pulled tight around my face. I slam the door behind me and toss my duffle in the back.
“Hey.”
Langdon leans across the armrest and kisses me. “Hey.” He tugs on my hoodie strings making it cinch tighter around my face before laughing. “It’s a good look for you.”
“What?” I balk, “just my eyes?” I chuckle. “It’s raining. I didn’t want to get soaked and cold.”
“I like your eyes. A lot,” he says as I loosen my hood and push it off.
I glance at him coyly, I hope. “I’d like to be somewhere tropical right about now.”
Langdon laughs. “Just wait till January. This is still relatively warm and dry. January, February you’ll be depressed and tired and wishing the days away until summer is back.”
“Wow. That’s dramatic. You okay?” I ask playfully.
He smirks at me as we turn onto the main road. “Just wait. You’ll see.”
The restaurant is packed. We have a large team anyway but add in regular patrons and the place looks packed over capacity. It’s loud too. So much chatter and kitchen noise that it buzzes in my ears like white noise. Langdon takes my hand in his, weaving us through tables and patrons until we arrive at the table set up for the team. Someone says Langdon’s name.
“I saved you a seat bro,” Niko says as he turns around. It’s not surprise on Niko’s face to see me, not exactly anyway, but it’s something. A quick miniscule moment of shock seeing us standing hand in hand—clearly a couple.
Langdon doesn’t miss a beat. He grins at Niko and says thanks but that we’ll sit at the end, where there are two seats. Lyra waves hello and I return the gesture—happy to see a smiling face. She’s sandwiched near the end of the table between two other girls who I sometimes share a lane with during practice. They’re nice. Quiet but friendly. I’d like to get to know them better.
Turning my attention back to Niko, I notice he’s smiling.
“Cool bro. Hey Delia,” he says.
A wave of awkwardness hits me. Not in a bad way, just in a it’s-weird-to-be-acknowledged way.
I grin and lift a hand to him. “Hey.” Langdon beams before tugging me into his side. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and leads us to Lyra’s end of the table and two open seats.
“See—” he says, “Niko can be cool.”
Grinning I nod my head.
***
It’s after nine pm. I’m exhausted and fading fast. Niko slaps my back on his way past me, Mom and Gramps.
“Nice swim tonight, D.”
“Thanks. Same,” I say as he walks away.
Langdon’s at the lobby doors. His parents smiling and congratulating all the swimmers as they leave.
“I can’t believe it. You shaved a whole minute off your time. That’s crazy—a minute off an event time rarely happens. It’s a big deal,” Langdon’s dad says.
Mom beams at me. Her smile so big that the corners of her eyes crinkle. Gramps smirks and tells me I did a good job.
“I’m so proud of you!” She says.
“Thanks. Coach really trains us hard. It’s been brutal, but I guess worth it. I mean I shaved a minute off, but I still came in third. The teams we compete against here are really good.”
Gramps squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll get there, still got a couple months to go.”
Mom hooks her arm through my elbow and Gramps takes my swim bag from me. “You look tired kiddo, let’s go home.”
At the doors, my mom and Gramps chat with Anna and John for a second. Langdon wraps his arms around me in a hug. I melt against his body—firm and warm. Resting my head against his chest, I’m so beat I could fall asleep standing up.
I don’t ever want him to let go. He rests his chin on the top of my head. Warm puffs of breath rustle wisps of my hair. A tap on my shoulder. I ignore it, content in Langdon’s embrace. Sleepy. Then Langdon’s breath, hot in the shell of my ear.
“Time to go,” he whispers.
I pull back—groggy and look around. Mom and Gramps suppress grins next to Langdon’s parents.
“Come on. Let’s go home.” I nod before glancing up at Langdon. He cranes his neck bringing his soft, warm lips to mine.
“Night,” he says smiling.
“Night,” I answer.
At home I barely manage to get my pajamas on before slithering into my bed and burying myself under the blankets. I am phlegmy and snotty as the outdoor world systematically dies off in preparation for winter. All of nature nearly stops doing its thing and sometimes I wonder if humans were meant to follow that natural law too. Winter is our time to rest and relax and have our days be fifty percent less than normal. Less work, less school, less everything. Just a rest period. A regrowth time. How lovely would that be?
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I snake a hand out, feeling around for it before I snag it and pull it under the blankets with me. A text from Langdon.
Sweet dreams, beautiful.
It’s cheesy but makes my stomach flip and my heart flutter anyway. I never thought I’d fall for the cheese factor…bu t turns out when it’s the right person being cheesy, I love it.
Xoxo Handsome I reply.