Perrie Lancaster has zero plans after college. No dream job she's working toward, no one to impress, and no care for anything other than making her last two years of college one big party.
Levi Saints wants nothing more than to follow his dream of t...
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The air is crisp when the bar doors slam shut behind us, blocking out the noise and warmth inside. I tug on the sleeve of my long-sleeved shirt, cursing myself for not grabbing my coat on the way out.
Levi's arm brushes mine and I glance up at him, seeing him already looking down at me. I raise an eyebrow. He grins sheepishly and looks down at his shoes. We stop at the end of the street, the one that leads back to campus.
A few students shuffle past us, offering me a wave and Levi a tentative second glance. I guess people are still not used to seeing him hang out on this side of campus. Just one more small action that showcases how different we are.
A shiver courses through my body and I barely stop for a second before he's tugging off his hoodie and slipping it over my head, holding the side for me to slip my arms through. The hoodie practically swallows me whole, the sleeves completely covering my hands but I smile up at him gratefully, trying not to inhale his scent. Because that would be weird.
We pause at a lamp post across the street. "So..." I begin, leaning against the cold metal, "How was your Swim Meet over Christmas break?" I ask casually. No, I didn't watch it. I couldn't.
Nova did tell me his position though after she googled it. Apparently, those kinds of stats are significant from Division 1 colleges.
His hands nervously disappear into his pockets as he shrugs. "It was good."
Tilting my head, I give a pointed look.
He folds. "I got gold in almost every category." He can't stop the smile on his face,
"Almost?"
He shakes his head with that grin. "That Hayes kid at Stanford is a beast in the water. I wouldn't be surprised if we end up swimming together in the Olympics if that's what he wants."
"Is that something you would want? To compete alongside him?" I look up at him but he's staring up at the sky, giving me a nice view of his throat. Is it weird I want to bite the little hollow spot at the base of his throat? I shake my head internally. Good God, Perrie, calm down.
He shakes his head. "Absolutely, he's the only other black swimmer in our Division aside from me. The two of us representing our country, and owning it? It'd mean so much to so many people," he says softly, as if his head is in a different place and he's just speaking his mind.
My elbow nudges his arm gently. He glances down at me, his eyes worn. "That sounds like a lot of pressure."
His eyes close and he rests his head against the street lamp pole. "It is...so hard." Pursing my lips together, I lean up on my toes and reach toward the back of his neck, massaging the tension there. His shoulders droop almost immediately. "It's like a double-edged sword," he murmurs, "because I love the pressure, the adrenaline, the fact that I have people counting on me to do my best."
