A talented fighter with Olympic goals, Talan Swifthawk only has two loves, boxing and Amalia. Forced into decisions to reach his Olympic dream, his passions collide in the most destructive ways, and it may end up costing him everything. Amalia Aguir...
I sit semi-cross-legged on my bed, squeezing my worn-out Pillow Person, Winkleberry, into my chest, my chin resting on her sunken head. Dad brought her home when my best friend from kindergarten moved away. The story on the tag said she was everybody's best friend, and she'd keep all your precious secrets. Even though she's worn out, she's invaluable to me. I need her help today to organize my jumbled thoughts and emotions.
If I had gone with Avery to Lakeside to get her platinum hair dyed black with purple highlights, a whim caused by her attraction to the newest member of Sebastian's emo band, I could have avoided the current situation. Then, I wouldn't have learned from Tarran that Talan is actually the guy in the picture Jaxon painted for me long ago. Although it hurts, it's better for me to know it now.
Talan either intentionally misled me or I misinterpreted an innocent peck on the cheek, which he may use to say goodbye to girls in his family.
How could Tarran even say Talan wishes something would happen between us when all other indications suggest Talan feels differently? If Tarran meant it as a compliment, he failed miserably because it's an insult to my intelligence.
I should have acknowledged several warning signs, especially one red flag at the beginning of the summer. I allowed it to make me feel special instead of revealing Talan's true feelings about me, as it should have now that I think about it.
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Last Summer
Minus Jaxon and Talan, we spent the day at the pool the first day it opened for the summer. While Kade and Erik munched hotdogs at the concession stand, Kinsley and I took our last dives. She performed a forward dive that brought her from the deep end to the center of the pool while I attempted a back dive pike but slipped off the springboard with my right foot. When I plunged, splashing into the pool at an awkward angle, a swell of rushing water ballooned under the top of my two-piece swimming suit. I surfaced, disoriented and gasping for air, clutching my chest to release the water as I swam to the pool's edge.
"Sexy backflop!" The boisterous voice yelled from near the lifeguard, belonging to one of two guys at the pool's edge, dangling their feet into the water below her. "I was hoping her tits fell out before she hit the water."
My blood went cold as the hairs on my arms stood on end, signaling danger.
The lifeguard told him to shut up and grow up. I recognized her from an article in the local paper about her acceptance to Columbia University a year ago, so I knew she was in college. I suspected one was her boyfriend because she hung out with them during breaks.
I ignored their vulgar remarks and lifted myself from the pool, feeling disgusted, ashamed, and afraid they were watching me.
Another voice called my name from beyond the pool fence, a familiar one, giving me instant security. Talan stood a few feet away, his fingers poking through the fence wiring, naturally tanned and toned in a white tank top, the early golden sunset a backdrop outlining his form. Of all the dives I'd taken during the day, he witnessed my failed attempt. Fate's cruel irony.
