29. Nolan
I’ve always known that Gavin and Wren were ‘rivals’; he was very loud about it, had been since she beat him at that first spelling bee, but somehow I missed the part where that meant he hated her.
Hell, Jordan beat Titus’s team a few times and even beat me in swimming until he stopped competing.
Which I’d been grateful for at the time; losing wasn’t an option now.
Knowing he’s dead made that a little shittier, though. I’d thought he'd just quit; maybe it all got to be too much. He did play in just about every sport; it wasn’t unheard of for someone to face burnout.
It was different with Gavin and Wren, though; it’s as if she’d personally attacked him, and honestly, I might have tried to avoid her because that was easier at first, but the more time I spend with her, the more I think he might be the one in the wrong here.
Wren is… perfect.
And not in the ‘not a hair out of place, does no wrong’ type of way Gavin likes to think she is. No, Wren is perfectly imperfect in the ‘I’d give a stranger the shirt off my back, save a puppy from a burning building, and help my worst enemy’ kind of way.
Which only makes me feel like an even bigger pile of shit every time I spend time with her.
The only silver lining is that while my father might have demanded this, I actually find myself wanting to do it regardless, not that that’s much better.
Fuck.
The final bell for my day rings, and I realize with a start that I’d zoned out for most of the class.
Fantastic. The last thing I need is for my grades to slip when I’m so close to freedom.
Tossing my stuff in my bag more forcefully than necessary, I quickly push to my feet and head out. The one good thing about my size and ‘reputation’ is that everyone stays the fuck out of my way, which makes getting to the pool for practice much easier.
I swim five days a week for training and leave the other two for studying. It’s a lot of work, but so far I’ve been managing well enough that I’m winning, and none of my grades have slipped below a B.
I’ll take it.
Wednesdays are usually quiet, and while I could go back to the dorm and slip into the closed pool house, I don’t feel like it’s necessary. Most know to leave me alone when I’m training by now; besides, I’m right here.
I don’t have too long today, seeing as it’s one of the few days Wren doesn’t have anything else to do; we’re supposed to study together.
Well, us and Julian have been trying to meet on Wednesdays and Fridays.
It was something that Julian started in hopes of getting closer to her, and I kind of invited myself into the fold despite it not being one of my usual study days.
It might be the best decision I've ever made. I’ve never looked forward to studying as much as I do now, and my grades have never been so good.
Honestly, I’d been tempted to cut down swimming practice to four days so I could try to get her to myself in the library and see how she is without Julian, but that might be pushing it.
I know what my father said, but if I start losing meets, he won’t care who I’m cozying up to.
I make quick work of changing and tossing my stuff in a locker before I head to the pool. It might not be the ocean, but still the water calls to me, my gills pushing to the surface as my body screams for me to shift, but I can’t, not here in the open like this and not in this pool.
Father spelled the other pool so I could shift back and forth as needed. This pool doesn’t have that enchantment, meaning if I shift now, I’ll be stuck like that until he allows me to shift back.
The last thing I need is another reason to be at my father's mercy, or worse, to have a mortal stumble upon me while shifted.
Instead, I push my urge to shift aside and simply slip into the pool and start swimming laps, counting the time in my head.
I need to shave off a whole three seconds to ensure my win for the next tournament.
A few of the other swimmers have been getting better, so I need to up my game or risk being left in the dust. I’d become soft on my wins, feeling as though I could stay where I was because I was so far ahead, and now they're on my ass.
Seven laps later, I haven’t even managed to shave one second off when I get frustrated and take a break. I swim over to the ledge, pulling myself up to sit on the wall with a groan of frustration that bounces off the walls as I huff and puff, trying to get my breathing back under control.
Without the use of my gills, my lungs burn just like anyone else’s. Damn, do I wish I could use them whenever I wanted.
That kind of freedom is something I can only dream about; it’s worth getting close to Wren…
But is it worth hurting her?
Two weeks ago, I would have said yes; now I hesitate to answer.
A click pulls my attention from my mental spiral, and I snap my head up to look at the girl who seems to infect my thoughts constantly.
Wren stands not far from the pool, her backpack on her back and camera in hand, the lens pointed my way, and I assume the click I heard was her taking a picture.
Well…
I watch as she slowly pulls the camera away from her face so that I can look into those ocean-blue eyes.
This is what I mean by perfect. She stands in the same uniform that every other girl in this school wears, blonde hair braided over her left shoulder, camera in hand, and not an ounce of makeup, and somehow she’s more beautiful than any girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” she says, smacking her free hand over her mouth as red blooms on her cheeks, making her impossibly more perfect.
I’m not sure what to do or say, so instead I remain where I am, unable to look away.
I do a quick mental check to ensure nothing accidentally shifted while I was swimming, but come up with everything in order.
So why is she looking at me like that?
“Can I help you?” I force myself to say, unsure what to do other than sit here and look at her, which seems silly.
My question seems to shake her, and she gives a little jump as she drops her hand from her mouth, shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry! I was trying to memorize the building so I can stop getting lost and needing Julian to save me, but I stumbled upon the gym and ended up here instead.
I was going to leave until I saw you swimming, and you just looked so beautiful.
You swim so gracefully, like you were born to be in the water, and I just couldn’t fight the itch to take a few pictures.
It seemed like a crime not to capture it, but I should have asked instead of just invading your space.
I can totally delete them if you want me to. ”
She talks so fast it’s a wonder she’s still able to breathe, let alone the fact that I was able to understand her, and fuck, I hate that it seems to make her more adorable.
Usually, I would tell anyone else to get fucked, probably going so far as to take their camera and chuck it in the pool for good measure.
I can’t be sure I didn’t let a scale or gill slip for a moment, and what if that was the exact moment she took a picture?
Letting mortals know about our existence is forbidden; I would be exiled back to the ocean.
So why doesn’t it feel like a bigger deal?
“It’s fine. You just startled me, is all. I didn’t know anyone was here.” Not a total lie, yet the words still taste like ash on my tongue.
Keep her close, keep her happy, and if you can, find a way to keep her. My father’s words ring in my ears, and I hate them, hate him, but…
“Why don’t you come show me? Let me see if they are any good, and if so, you can keep them.” I’ve never flirted in my life; I don’t have the time, energy, or ability to date, not with so much riding on my performance.
So why does this feel so easy?
Wren seems shocked as she continues to watch me for a moment, almost as if she expects me to take it back. When it becomes clear I’m not going to, she cocks her head and her brows pinch together, and I almost chuckle at how cute she looks. How anyone can hate her blows my mind.
“Really?” she asks, clearly needing reassurance, but the second I nod, a smile pulls at the corner of her lips, and she’s moving.
She runs across the pool deck before I can scold her for it. Running in here is a terrible idea; she’s liable to end up on her ass or in the water. I open my mouth to say as much, but before I can, she’s shoving the camera in my face, and I’m met with a picture of me.
I’m mid-breaststroke, my torso above the water as I gulp in a lungful of air before I plunge back in.
It’s a really good shot, damn near professional.
“Your return to streamline is fantastic, and your stroke rate is crazy, but your flip turn could use a little refining,” she tells me as she flips through a few more pictures, and I’m struck momentarily stupid as she throws words at me that I didn’t know she knew and see the proof of what she’s saying right there before my eyes.
She flips through a few more pictures, each with more examples of what I’m doing well and where I can improve on my backstroke. It takes me far too long to put the pieces together.
Jordan.
Her brother used to swim, and she clearly had supported him fiercely in that. I can see it in her eyes, a passion that shouldn’t be there but is because she loved him.
Nobody has ever shown up for me like that, and while my chest aches with longing, I push that feeling aside. I don’t deserve a pity party, not when I’m only here because I was told to be, being a good little bitch for my father.
Her cheeks are flushed when she finally finishes going through the pictures, and when her gaze meets mine, I see the uncertainty, and I get the feeling her cheeks aren’t just pink from the warm temperature of the room.
“Sorry, I—um…” she mumbles, quickly averting her eyes as she pushes to stand. “I should go.”