Chapter 21
“Come with me,” Nova says, hooking her elbow around my arm as she makes a path through the crowd. I’ve never seen the pool complex so crazy. The entire courtyard swarms with people—family, fans, reporters, even a few paparazzi trying to push their way past security. “My parents are already inside.”
Parents?
I gulp, saying nothing as I let her pull me through the throng.
I’m not sure why, but since she only mentioned her dad in the text, I sort of assumed he’d be the only one here.
I mean, her mom lives on the other side of the lake, so it makes sense.
But I’m not mentally prepared to meet both of Nox’s parents today, because somehow that’s how they’ve been labeled in my mind.
Not Nova’s parents. Not famous, A-list celebrities.
But Nox’s parents. Nerves crawl down my throat, making home deep in my belly.
When we get to the ticket booth, a security guard intercepts us and leads us through a side door to a roped-off area.
A few people fill the stands, but it’s clear who Nova’s parents are even without their celebrity status—the man and woman sitting two seats apart with their backs turned and their faces buried in their phones.
“Mom!” Nova calls out.
Her mother glances up, face shrouded by a wide-brim hat and oversized sunglasses, both of which seem absolutely ridiculous indoors.
It’s not as if they’re doing anything anyway.
She’s Madeleine Shaw. It’s sort of tough to hide when your face has been plastered over forty-foot-tall billboards in Times Square on and off for the past thirty years.
If anything, the props might be drawing more attention.
“Darling!” She stands with a smile. Even behind the getup, the resemblance to Nova is clear.
They’ve got the same infectious energy, the same star-power, that unidentifiable something that draws people in, makes them want to look.
Plus, they’re the same height with the same frame and the exact same stick-straight obsidian hair.
Nova throws herself into her mother’s waiting arms and then turns to me. “Mom, this is my friend Clara. I told you she was coming.”
“Yes, of course! Clara!” She wraps both of her palms around my extended hand, her fingers warm, her skin so smooth I can’t stop from immediately wondering how many ridiculously expensive lotions she must use on a regular basis.
Then she leans in, air-kissing both of my cheeks.
It’s so over the top, so Hollywood, I can’t take it.
Laughter bubbles up my throat. I fuse my lips together, trying to hide my reaction, but my face must give me away because to my right, Nova snorts.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” her mother continues, unaware.
Her face is so close, I can’t help but notice the hint of vodka on her breath even though it’s barely ten o’clock in the morning.
“I keep telling Nova she should invite you girls out to the house. It would be so lovely to have everyone over.”
“Yeah, yeah, Mom. Soon, I promise,” Nova says in an appeasing tone, pushing me past her mom to the two open seats in between her parents. Then she leans around me to stiffly say, “Hi, Dad.”
He glances our way with a hasty wave, pointing to his phone and whatever conversation he’s having that’s clearly more important than his child or her friend. He doesn’t even bother to acknowledge me outside of a quick once-over.
Ass.
If not for the telltale green eyes, I wouldn’t even know he’s Nova’s dad.
But Nox is a different story. I see it in an instant.
Their broad shoulders, their swimmer’s frames, their cleft chins.
Nox has his mom’s black hair, but his father’s lighter brown strands have the same wave that Nova’s lacks.
It’s sort of funny, because I’ve only ever known Nox and Nova as twins.
I’ve always thought they look exactly alike.
But meeting a person’s family is like that sometimes—it opens doors you never even knew existed.
I turn back to Nova in time to see her mother sneak a small swig of a clear plastic bottle. The slight pull of her neck muscles as she swallows makes me think it’s not water. If Nova notices, she doesn’t say.
“Did Nox come out yet?” she asks instead.
Her mom nods. “He’s over there warming up.”
She gestures in the general direction of the recreational pool and I twist so quickly I almost pull a muscle. But the crowd is too thick to see anyone—swimmers, coaches, assistants, all in various uniforms and colors, fill the deck.
“Is it always this crazy?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Nova thinks for a moment, then nods. “At invitationals, anyway.”
“Invitationals?” Now that she says it, I notice the signs posted around the pool, reading Northeastern Conference Fall Invitational with various universities and sponsors listed underneath. “I thought you said it was a meet?”
“It is.” She shrugs, still searching for Nox. “I mean, basically. It’s just a little bigger.”
I swallow, suddenly nervous for some reason. Does Nox even know I’m here? “How much bigger?”
“Oh, there he is!” Nova waves.
I gulp and return my attention to the pool.
He doesn’t see us. He isn’t watching. He’s cutting through the water with laser-focused precision.
I take the rare opening to ogle him without worry, studying the way his sculpted arms bend and pull, the way the muscles down his back ripple, how the water sluices across his rock-hard skin, how strong and in command and utterly dominant he looks. A flush warms my cheeks.
Look away.
You’re being too obvious.
You just licked your freaking lips.
I did, but I can’t look away no matter how much I tell myself I should.
An announcer says something on the loudspeaker.
I’m too consumed by Nox to hear, but it must be something important because he flips around and swims toward the edge of the pool in an easy breaststroke, staring straight ahead, the grooves of his face locked in hard concentration.
I’ve grown so used to laugh lines and smiles, I forgot how intense he can be.
It radiates across the pool deck, touching me deep, a stroke of heat right at my core.
Nova grabs my forearm excitedly. “This is his first heat. We got here just in time!”
“Great,” I say, only slightly hoarse, a little proud I’m able to make a sound at all.
That ability evaporates the second he gets to the edge and lifts himself out of the pool.
My throat goes dry, tight. It’s almost pornographic the way the water rushes down his chest, his arms, dripping over his abs, drawing my eye right to the waistband of his low-slung, skintight, knee-length suit.
It feels wrong to let my gaze roam all the way down that deep V, too intimate, like I’m invading his privacy despite the room full of people.
I should probably stop, but I don’t. Those three little rings poke out above the fabric, a taunt, a tease. I ache to see more.
Coming here was a bad idea.
Horrible. Awful.
I thought he was hot before, but it was manageable—barely. Seeing him in his element, competitive and fierce, half-naked and totally in command, is an out-of-body experience. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.
“He’s got four events today, and three tomorrow,” Nova prattles on, unaware of the way the floor seems to be giving out underneath me.
“But Logan will be back from his game by then, so I enlisted him as my backup. For us today, it’s just the 200m fly, which is the one that’s about to start, the 100m free, the 200m individual medley, and there’s a relay too but I’m not sure which one.
Freestyle? Medley? I can never keep it straight.
Tomorrow he’s got the 100m fly, the 400m individual medley, and the other team relay. ”
Nova’s description lands as hardly more than words, making it painfully obvious how little I actually know about Nox and his swimming.
What’s that old saying? When everyone around you is a jerk, maybe it’s time to look in the mirror?
I’m pretty sure I won’t like what I see.
He’s taken so much time out of his life for me, and I don’t even know what races he swims. I know he has five gold medals, but I have no idea what they really mean.
I’ve been so focused on my own walls, my own fears, my own insecurities, I haven’t spared much thought for his.
I do now.
He walks to his starting block, swinging his arms and his legs to keep his limbs loose. As he pulls himself up, he looks straight at his father, eyes hard and emotionless beneath the rim of his swim cap, jaw set and determined. The confessions he whispered in the dark echo across my mind.
I hate my father.
Seeing him up there in the stands is all the motivation I need.
Hating him might be the only reason I even like to swim.
Nox’s eyes shift.
He sees me next to his dad and pauses halfway onto the block.
Surprise softens his features.
I’m struck dumb by the wonder enlivening his gaze.
To my right, Nova starts waving frantically in his direction. “Go, Nox! Woo-hoo! Kill ’em!”
His attention jumps to her as he rolls his eyes and lifts himself the rest of the way onto the starting block.
But he looks at me one last time as he bends at the waist and grabs the front edge of the block, sinking into position—he looks at me and the corners of his lips twist ever so slightly into a smile.
To my left, his father readjusts his weight.
Tingles creep down my spine, an awareness of eyes, of scrutiny.
The starting horn blasts, saving me as the swimmers leap off their blocks.
Nox flies like a torpedo beneath the water, body long and lithe, the last to surface.
He swings his arms, pumps his feet, so incredibly fast, but also… not.
I lean over to Nova, whispering, “Does it look like he’s not really trying? Or is that just me?”
“He isn’t,” her father answers first. I swallow and keep my eyes on the race, uncomfortable with his attention. “This is just prelims.”
“Prelims?”