Synchronised Motion (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 9

She nods.

I laugh, it's a bitter laugh. "Me? Feels more like he's playing with me."

"I saw him kissing that girl at the party and watching you. I dated him for 2 years! 2 fucking years. And he has never looked at me like he looks at you. You don't even know how fucking lucky you are." she laughs darkly.

I chuckle, but it's humourless. "Wow, still not over the breakup, huh? You're being paranoid, Quinn. Move on."

A fire ignited in her eyes. "You prick!" she yells diving toward me.

I scramble away dodging her hand as she swipes at me but she manages to get scratch my cheek with the tip of her nails. Holy shit.

I grab hold of her wrists restraining her."What the fuck is your problem!?" I grunt.

"You. Oliver is too good for you!" She yells, struggling in my grip.

"I KNOW!" I exclaim. "I fucking know, okay. So chill out."

She relaxes slightly when she sees it in my eyes. For a moment we share a mutual understating.

When I think she isn't going to attack me I hesitantly let her go. She storms back to the opposite side of the room sitting down and drawing her knees to her chest. She's obviously a bit delusional and totally nuts, but I can't help but feel a bit bad for her. She has it bad for Oliver.

Why is everything always about him? I'm sick of hearing his fucking name. I lean my head back against the wall staring at the roof. He's going to kill me for missing this race. He is going to be furious. Coach is going to give me the disappointed Father look which I can't stand. I respect Coach a lot, and it tears me apart at the thought of letting him down.

Fuck.

I bury my head in my hands. When did life get so heavy? Ever since Henry died it feels like I am carrying this heavy weight on my shoulder everywhere I go. It's exhausting. I am so tired. I just can't seem to wrap my head around the fact I am never going to see him again. Never going to see him laugh, smile, or talk shit again.

And that sucks so much.

"I'm sorry." She says so quietly I barely hear it.

"Yeah, well you should be. That race has been the only thing keeping me sane all week." I grunt, dragging a hand down my tired face.

"Oliver's just–"

"Don't." I interrupt. "Don't say his name again, I am fucking sick of hearing his name everywhere I go."

Quinn looks confused now, her facial features softening slightly. "You have no idea, do you?"

I furrow my brows. "No idea about what?"

She laughs shaking her head in disbelief. "That motherfucker, you really have no clue."

Now I was getting frustrated. "Yes, we have established that. Care to enlighten me?"

Before she can reply the door opens and Quinn and I are jumping to our feet. Ryan from my swim team opens the door, a relieved look on his face when he spots me.

"You are in so much shit Beau" He shakes his head.

I ignore him as I scramble out of the room. It took them too long to find us. I don't know how much longer I can be trapped in a room with that girl.

Honestly, I don't think this day can get any worse.

I halt my steps when I see Oliver. —Nah, things can get worse.

Oliver looks distressed and It surprises me. I am not used to him like that. The guy is never stressed, not even in the most intense swim competitions when he has the pressure as reigning winner to win again. He barely breaks a sweat in those make-or-break situations. But now, he looks thoroughly frustrated now.

He is wet like he just raced and has just gotten out of the pool. Water glistened against his naked tan torso. His sweatpants are low on his hips and his v-line peaking out. I swallow.

When he sees me relief flashes through his eyes and he visibly relaxes. Quinn walks out behind me drawing his eye. He wears a puzzled expression at the sight of her but it quickly turns into annoyance.

He looks... displeased.

I am unsure if I see jealously spark in his eyes, I wonder who it is for.

He marches over to me with a pissed-off look on his face. "Where the fuck have you been Lipski."

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I open and close my mouth like a fucking fish. Real smooth Beau. Real fucking smooth.

"Oliver" Quinn says walking up to him. She smiles sweetly like she didn't just threaten me and make me miss my damn race.

Oliver barely spares her a glance his eyes trained on me, waiting for my response. I shift nervously on my feet. "I got locked in the classroom."

He chuckles, but it's humourless. He looks lethal. "You were locked in a classroom with my ex-girlfriend?"

I grimace. "Yes."

He frowns, visibly annoyed. He is silent for a while, and each second feels like an hour. "Your next race is next." He says, his tone clipped.

I nod my head avoiding his eyes but I don't miss his eyes training on my cheek. I watch him struggle to keep his composure, a muscle in his jaw flexing.

He turns his sharp gaze to Quinn. "What the fuck did you do Quinn." He leers, his voice dripping with anger.

Rolling her eyes she looks down at her nails. "Calm down Oliver, I barely touched your boy. We just had a bit of a... misunderstanding."

I scoff in response.

He clenched and unclenches his fist visibly trying to calm himself. He nods his head towards the pool, "Go to your race Beau." He doesn't ask, it's a command. For once I comply without a fight keen to get out of there.

I don't miss how Oliver grabs Quinn's arm holding her back though. I try not to let it bother me, but a part of me wants to know what they are talking about. A part of me hates how she looks at him. But the bigger part of me is relieved that I can finally race.

***

Everything was off.

My breathing was off. My dive was off. My pacing was off. Even my synchronised motion was off.

Instead of racing help make me forget I was just fucking up. If anyone noticed I was off they didn't say anything. Oliver was watching me more closely, I could feel his gaze on me. His expression didn't give much away but it kind of looked like he was confused, like I was a fascinating puzzle he couldn't quite get.

It isn't until my last race that day that things change. The race where I am in the same heat as Oliver.

And suddenly it was so on.

My drive to beat Oliver overrides and distracts me from my shit performance and wandering mind.

Oliver is in the lane beside me. Every other contestant is stretching their muscles and jumping on their toes preparing themselves for the race. But not Oliver and I. Instead we are sizing each other up, well I am sizing him up. His eyes are slightly glazed off, his head somewhere else as he looks at me.

The bell rings indicating for us to set up.

"So, about that bet," Oliver says as we step up onto the diving board. I give him a side glance.

"I think I have decided what I want as my reward."

And the gun goes off.