I turn up to training the next day with an almost skip in my step and as close to a smile as I can get to. Except I don't skip and I rarely smile.
But I was close.
Very close.
I attract some looks as I walk in. I don't usually like attention, but today, today I don't mind.
The squad is still in their clothing chatting around Coach. My eyes instantly find Oliver due to his sandy mop of hair above everyone else's. Time almost passes in slow motion, there are a few shocked looks, gasps, eyes widening. Ryan looks annoyed and Andy is grinning nodding his head and the rest of the team looks confused as fuck. I try not to be as smug as I feel.
I fail.
I nearly have a skip in my step, and I have to forcibly chill myself down so I don't look like a little kid running toward the toy section.
Coache's voice makes times catch up to real-time. "What the hell are you doing here Beau?" His deep voice calls, an unimpressed brow raised with my 'I'm the guy' walk.
I grin, teeth and all. "Oliver let me come back early, Coach."
Yep, I did that. I put full blame on Oliver and attention off of me and onto our captain. You're welcome.
Coach swivels his head to Oliver who is grumbling incoherent words under his breath.
"This right, Oliver?"
I speak up before Oliver can. "Yep, I was on good behaviour," I say, offering my most innocent grin.
Coach snorts at that, looking like he doesn't believe it, and gives Oliver an expectant look, waiting for his response.
Oliver grunts, crossing his arms over his chest begrudgingly, avoiding Coach's eye. "Yes." he sighs. "I said he could come back," Oliver admits reluctantly.
Coach looks surprised, another glance and a pregnant pause before he nods slowly. "Alright then, I trust your opinion."
Coach fixes me with a stern look. "But behave, kid, alright?"
I nod, a grin coming to face as I salute him sarcastically. "On my best behaviour sir." I'm probably pushing the line.. okay I definitely am—but I'm in a good mood today.
Coach rolls his eyes, but I see the way the corner of his mouth tugs. He doesn't say it, but he missed me.
He claps his hands together, "Alright right team, let's get back to it. Get changed and then everyone poolside ready for warm up and some basic drills. We are going to some timed races."
Everyone groans aloud.
Timed sprints are crucial to getting in Coach's good books. To see where you sit in the group. I'm not usually nervous, but something heavy sits in my stomach today at the thought of it. Not the most ideal way for me to start training again after a break. I'm at a disadvantage, because while I have been on timeout, everyone else has been swimming every day and getting better. That thought makes my me feel queasy.
What's worse though, is that coach called me over before I got in the changing rooms to tell me that I shouldn't worry about how behind I am, that it is okay if my times aren't my best since I have been off. It's insulting. I've never been a middle-of-the-pack swimmer and I ain't about to start now. Yes, I'm behind and a little out of training.. but knowing me, I'll swim until I pass out if it meant proving myself, (that isn't a smart idea though, and I do not suggest).
When I get into the changing room, my mood has dampened thanks to Coaches lack of faith in me. The fire to do well burning even hotter. Nationals is soon, too soon. Has Coach lost hope in me? Does he think I won't be good by then?
Andy slaps my back affectionately, drawing me out of my head. "Thank fuck you're back. You're an ass, but Ryan is insufferable, he's been coming second too much at training and it's getting to his head."
"HEY!" Ryan exclaims, narrowing his eyes at Andy.
Andy shrugs unapologetically.
"Don't get comfortable" I wink at Ryan, starting to undress.
Ryan scoffs. "Trust me, I'm not. Not with that exchange student here."
That piques my interest. My eyes follow Ryans to Oliver's locker, where the new exchange student is talking animatedly to Oliver.
Ryan sounds smug when he speaks again, "Seems like you got some more competition now."
I pretend to look around. "Where?"
Andy barks out a laugh and Ryan rolls his eyes suppressing his smile. "You're one cocky little shit, Beau." He shakes his head. "But for once, I'm actually glad you're here, that new exchange student has been hogging Coach's attention and sucking up to Oliver for too long. It's time for him to be taken down a notch."
I glance at Oliver and the exchange student again. Oliver laughs at something he says, and it's the best fucking sound. A deep laugh, one that reverberates through my skin.
I wish that it was me making him laugh.
Oliver turns his head a little and I quickly divert my head and gaze, avoiding all chances for eyes to catch his.
I haven't faced him since the other day. Talked to him since his hand was around my dick and my lips to his skin. I flush further, repelling all those images out of my mind, because I'm in my swimwear and now is not the time for those thoughts.
My body feels jittery and nervous, the cold air brings goosebumps to my skin as we make our way out to the pool.
Why did I want to come back here earlier? I change my mind. My bed was really warm this morning, and I'd like to go back there.
I shake my arms out a little, mentally preparing myself for the cold water I am about to emerge myself in.
Andy is beside me, dipping his cap in water before putting it over his head. "How the shit did you convince Oliver to let you back?" He asks.
"I used my charm."
That makes Andy laugh. No—not just laugh— but fold over slapping his leg as if he heard the most hilarious joke in the world. "You? Charm. Ha! Good one." he says between laughs.
I don't say anything else and Andy quietens down, his amused smile fading. "Yourserious?"
I nod, an annoyed scowl on my lips.
He snorts, as if he is amused by the thought. "No, really, what did you do Beau? Threaten Oliver with something? Find some dirt on him? Though I doubt the guy has dirt on him."
I huff. "I can be charming."
"Beau, you don't smile unless it's about swimming. Nice isn't in your vocabulary. You're basically like a baby rhino, all cute and angry but not cuddly. Cuddle the rhino and he will stab the shit out of you with his horn thingie."
Now it's my turn to snort. "I'm not a fucking baby rhino."
But Andy isn't having it. "And whoever tries to pat that baby rhino, is a brave brave person."
I give him a dry look, but his eyes aren't on me anymore, they have fallen on something over my shoulder. Andy's eyes widen a fraction before his jaw drops. "Holy shit."
Piped interest, I turn around and follow his gaze...
My eyes land on Oliver walking out of the changing rooms.
Everyone with eyes, and attracted to guys, looks at Oliver when he's shirtless. It's a given. We are only human. He's just... really nice to look at. But this time—it's everyone looking at his chest for another reason...
Holy fuck.
This time, I'm not the one with the love bites on my neck and chest. He is.
And I'm a tomato. A red fucking tomato.
Because I did that.
I remember the other day clearly. Vividly. Ingrained in my brain.
I remember bruising his skin, punishing him. Taking out my anger and sexual frustration on him. But he didn't stop me. He let me.
A part of me feels smug, that it's payback for when he did that to me. The other part is mortified by what I did and no doubt look flushed.
The exchange student eyed Oliver's chest with an obvious frown and displeasure. Tiffany looks jealous, and just everyone else is jaw-slacked shocked. That Oliver Folwer, the guy who has a reputation for rarely ever hooking up with anyone—is covered in hickeys. Has been marked. A person's claim on him basically.
I got to give it to him though, he doesn't look like he cares. He must feel the stares, the shocked looks, but if he does, he doesn't show it. He's not embarrassed or ashamed. He owns it.
It's kinda... hot.
And frustrating.
Why does it feel like Oliver always wins? He can be in a losing situation, yet he always comes out like he's winning. How is that?
When the tables were turned, and I was the one covered in hickeys, I didn't feel like a winner. I felt like someone's property, and I felt embarrassed. But Oliver doesn't. He's carrying on as if it is a normal day, and not giving a fuck about it.
It reminds me of the one race I bested Oliver in at College.
It was near the start of the year. It was a while ago, it should be hard to remember, but I remember it. Of course, I remember it. I was elated, ecstatic that I won. It was a seconds difference—but I still won. And when I got out of the pool, ready to gloat the shit out of it, Oliver congratulated me. He slapped my back and told me I did a good job. And I waited for it, looked for it, for the moment Oliver would kick himself for not winning. Would give himself a tough time and get frustrated. The moment his face would twist in any expression except for contentment.
It never came.
The win didn't feel so great when Oliver didn't treat himself like the loser. The win didn't feel as sweet when he didn't make himself suffer—not like I do. He just shrugged and moved on, like he didn't even care. Like it wasn't even a big deal. Like losing didn't mean anything. Didn't take anything away from him.
And maybe it didn't?
Maybe his Father still goes to his competitions—even if he loses. Mine didn't. If I lost a race, he didn't come to any of my races for at least 8 months. But if I won, he had a higher likelihood of going to my races. If I won, he would give me a hug, he would smile and he would look proud walking next to me. He would ruffle my hair affectionately and we would go out for food. If I lost, he would be on his phone texting some work guy and I would have to compete with a screen for his attention. And the day I learned that, what winning meant, that was the day I started to see swimming differently. It's never been the same since.
But Oliver's not like that...
Maybe it's a mindset?
It must be the mindset if Oliver and I are put in the same situation, yet have different reactions and outcomes... We treat ourselves differently.
Oliver catches my eye and something flickers in it. He looks like he wants to come over, but he thinks better of it and walks to the edge of the pool instead.
Andy fixes me with a look, "Charm huh? That's not fucking charming Beau, that's making Oliver your goddamn chew toy."
I splutter, nearly choking on my saliva. "That's not.. I didn't.." I can't get the words out, I'm dying here. I don't know how Andy knows it was me, but I don't like it.
Andy shakes his head, the corner of his lip tugging. "Maybe someone can get close enough to the baby rhino, huh?" He clicks his tongue, " And who would've thought it would be the adored fluffy golden retriever."