Chapter 33 Twenty years old
Twenty years old
Kath
The next morning, as I pack my things, I’m still humming the songs from the bar.
The air feels hazy with leftover laughter and contentment.
This week has felt right, like rewatching a comfort film and remembering exactly why it was always my favourite.
Sam’s in the shower, but when he gets out I need to talk to him.
I want us to finally acknowledge this thing between us, the thing that’s been quietly building for longer than I’ve probably let myself admit.
Maybe it’s always been there, waiting for us to notice it.
When I proposed another week of our friends-with-benefits deal I didn’t know what to expect. I’d never stated anything outright, but a small part of me hoped it might become something more. And Sam knows me better than anyone. If anyone could hear what I wasn’t saying out loud it would be him.
The water shuts off, and I hear the familiar sound of him moving around in the bathroom and towelling off.
I take a deep breath.
I can do this.
I’ve been putting it off all week, but we only have hours left together now.
When he steps out, his expression is tight. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he rubs the towel through his hair, and something cold unfurls in my stomach. I know that look. I’ve seen it before, after his mum died, when he threw himself into the pool without a word.
And suddenly I realise that we’re not on the same page. Maybe we never were.
Just like that, the speech I’d been rehearsing in my head slips away like steam on the mirror.
“Want to talk, Champ?” I zip up my toiletry bag and place it into my case, hands shaking.
“Kath… We both know our time is up,” he says softly. He gestures between us. “This has to stop. And… I don’t think we should go back down this road again in the future.”
My fingers clench around the bag. For once, I decide I want to push back. Why does he get to make that decision on behalf of both of us?
“Why does it have to stop?” I ask, frustrated.
Sam’s brows furrow in confusion. “You were the one who proposed ‘only this week’. I thought we both knew this had to end.”
“I don’t think it has to. I know you, Sam.
I know what we have.” My heart pounds with the words, but I know I’m not wrong.
I’ve seen the way he looks at me. The way we look at each other.
I’ve seen it in every careless glance over the last week, from the soft sleepy gazes in the morning, to the heat in his stare before we kiss, or the laughter in his eyes when I tell a joke.
And I remember what he said in the club before we left for the Ilha Grande; that he missed the summer we spent together.
He wouldn't say that if he didn't feel the way I do.
He's not looking at me, but I continue talking, unwilling to let his fears sideline what we could become.
“I don’t care that you’re so far away. We could do long distance. You have to admit that this has changed from just being friends with benefits into something more.”
Sam doesn’t say anything, and a feeling of doubt inches up my spine.
I cross my arms. “At least, it has for me.”
He stays quiet, but meets my gaze again for the briefest moment. And for the first time since we met, I’m not sure what I see in his expression. Why isn’t he saying anything?
“Yes, there’s an ocean between us. But it’s a ridiculous excuse at this point.
Sam, we text and call all the time. Sometimes I talk to you more than my friends at university.
Neither of us are left wanting for the other’s attention, and it’s not like we’ve dated anyone else seriously.
Or can you tell me that you’ve had a girlfriend since I’ve been gone?
You know I haven’t had a boyfriend. And I don’t want one. I want you.”
His face tightens almost imperceptibly, and after a few moments of silence between us, he shakes his head.
“You deserve more than me,” he says, speaking to the ground.
“You shouldn’t be with someone who you only get to see twice a year.
You deserve someone who’ll take you out on dates, someone you can sleep next to at night.
” His voice goes completely monotone when he says, “We both know I can’t prioritise you, Kath. You deserve to be prioritised.”
I try to calm my racing pulse. The steam is still curling out of the bathroom into our room, and music from outside filters through the cracked open window.
“Don’t tell me what I do or don’t deserve.
I’ve done nothing but support you with swimming our entire lives.
If you need to focus on sport, you know I’ll cheer you on in the background.
You can prioritise me in other ways. I’ve seen you do it.
You’re my biggest cheerleader too.” My voice is rising.
“We want each other. Isn’t that enough?”
“I can’t lose you as a friend. You don’t understand, Kath…
I’ve lost so much. So fucking much in my life.
I can’t lose you too. Not you.” A sheen coats his eyes.
“Because, if we were together, you’d hate me eventually,” he reasons.
“I don’t want you to resent me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you did. ”
“So you’re fine with fucking me for a week, but then the moment it could be something more, you don’t want me? Don’t you think I’m going to resent you now?”
“Kath. You were the one that proposed we do this. This wasn’t my idea. I don’t—” He pauses, his usually vibrant blue eyes clouded with a darkness I’m not used to seeing. “I thought we were both on the same page, Kath. That it was a continuation of that summer. Just friends having fun.”
Anger settles deep in my ribs, hot and sharp. We’re more than friends having fun. We’ve always been more than friends having fun. And I know Sam well enough that I’m sure it’s more for him too.
“Don’t give me that ‘just having fun’ bullshit. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“I’d never have agreed to start anything if I knew you wanted more.” He winces, hunching slightly. “You don’t want me, Kath, trust me.”
I growl. I actually growl in frustration. “You’re doing it again. You’re telling me how I should feel. I decide how I feel, not you. You don't get to decide something for the both of us.”
I turn and push my jumper into the top of the case before looking around for my book.
I can hear him taking a deep breath behind me.
We don’t have time for this fight; I need to leave to get to the airport soon.
I should never have left it this late to talk to him.
When I turn, he’s clenching and unclenching his hands.
“Well, you're doing the same thing to me right now, pushing decisions onto me. Isn't that a bit hypocritical, Kath? And anyway, it's not just about your feelings. I’d resent you too.”
His voice is quiet, but I reel back like I’ve been slapped.
“I’d resent balancing you with training. I’d resent putting you second. I’d resent watching you slowly pull back once you realise this’ll never work. Not like how you want it to, and you deserve better.”
I search his face for any sign of warmth, of affection, but his eyes are staring straight into mine. Unblinking and cold.
“You don’t have to balance me and swimming perfectly. Why are you holding yourself to these impossible standards?” I ask. Trying my hardest to ignore the comment about resentment. “Why do I deserve something better and not you?”
“Believe me. I’m not worth it, Kath. And if we’re fighting about this now, imagine what it’ll be like in a month’s time, in a year’s time…”
“But… But I’m in love with you.” I choke out the words. I think I’ve known it for years and just chosen to ignore it. What’s the point in dancing around it anymore?
Silence follows my declaration. A painfully long silence.
This isn’t what’s meant to happen when you tell someone you love them.
A car horn honks obnoxiously loudly on the street outside, but I ignore the noise, training my focus on the man who’s slowly dismantling my heart.
“An unequal relationship, one where you’re doing so much for me and I’m not doing enough for you, isn’t what love is, Kath.
It’s taking advantage of you. And you might not think this now, but in time you won’t love me.
I’ll let you down.” His expression is pained.
“Even when you need me the most, I can’t promise to be there for you.
And that would kill me. It’d kill us both.
You’re lying to yourself if you say you wouldn’t be affected by it.
You’d be putting your life on hold for me. ”
“They’re my feelings, not yours. My heart, not yours.
Two years of separation isn’t as big of a deal as you’re making it.
This is a pointless argument, Sam, and you keep rehashing it.
” A sob escapes me as I pick up another sock, throwing it into the case.
“We’re just going round in circles, and I don’t understand why you’re not willing to even try. ”
When I turn to him he looks defeated, and I have a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’s understanding what I’m saying. But then he frowns.
“But it might not be two years,” he says quietly.
“I really like Coach Miller and Florida. What if I decide to stay longer? And—” He pauses and runs his hand through his hair before continuing more firmly.
“It’d affect my training, my performance.
I can’t spend the next few years just waiting for you to drop by during your holidays.
I can’t put my life on hold either. I can’t just wait around, and I don’t want to. ”
It’s like a bucket of ice has been thrown over me. If he can say things like that, then he can’t love me the same way I love him.
“So I’m willing to wait, but you aren’t?” I say eventually. “Is that what you mean, Sam? That I’m the person you get to have fun with when you’re around, but you forget about me when I’m gone so you can be with other girls in Florida?”
“You can’t be ser— you know what? Believe what you want to believe,” he mutters, looking away.
I turn, throwing my sandals into the top of my case. This isn’t neat packing, but I don’t have enough time for that right now. By this point, all I can gather is that he doesn’t love me and won’t choose me over swimming. And that hurts more than enough.
“Nothing you say makes sense to me,” I tell him. “Except for the fact that you don’t want me, and you don’t want us. That is crystal clear.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” His voice is quiet.
‘Sorry’ doesn’t feel like enough right now.
I avoid his gaze so he can’t tell that I’m crying. “I need to catch my flight.” I angrily try to pull on the case zip. It keeps getting stuck. Does literally everything hate me today?
“Kath, let me do it,” he says, trying to reach around, but I bat his hand away.
“Just don’t. I don’t need your help. And you know what? I don’t need you to get me to the airport, I can do that on my own. Just like everything else. In fact, I don’t need you at all. Not anymore.”
“Please, Kath. Don’t be like this. We can still be friends. Best friends,” he begs me, as I finally manage to shut my case and walk to the door.
I pause. My heart is still pounding, and I can’t even start untangling the emotions I'm feeling. Friends don’t say they resent you. Friends don’t throw declarations of love back in your face.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I need to think about myself now.” Instead of always you, I tack on silently to myself.
As I exit the room, I can’t help one last glance at my best friend and worst heartbreak.
Not my problem. Not anymore.
I walk out of the room.
I have a flight to catch, a degree to finish, and a life that’s been getting on without him for months now. It can keep going.
I can keep going.
It takes everything in me not to cry on the metro on the way to the airport. Why am I letting a boy who won’t even love me back break my heart?
All the films on the plane remind me of Sam. When I arrive home, I turn on the TV, and his face appears on some stupid Olympics recap. His Speedo advert is at my local pool.
And I know I’ll never be able to escape him.