Page 58 of Knot Forgotten

I take in the bed and the discarded towel, all proof of what happened here. My virginity was taken by the right person at the right time; there are zero regrets for any of it. But I’ve never viewed my virginity as anything but something that could get me sold to the highest bidder, so I always kept quiet about it.

Now, I feel free in a way I never have before. It is almost like a relief. Sure, I know there is trafficking of omegas in general, but it is less likely to happen if they won’t make money in the transaction.

As the bathroom door opens, I pull myself out of the thoughts. I’m going to enjoy the weekend with Matt and Riley, completely. No scary nightmares can creep into the day. Not if I don’t let them.

Coffee in hand, Matt and I climb out of the Bronco at the school and follow the crowd of people trailing toward the pool house. He pulls me against him, marking me with his musk, and my heart gives a happy little thump.

After finding a seat, I scan the swimmers for Riley. He is across the pool, his eyes scanning the growing crowd for us. I stand up and wave both arms to catch his attention. When he sees me, a smile grows on his face.

He signs, ‘I missed you.’

I grin and return the sentiment. And it is the truth. I miss all of them when I’m not around them.

A teammate pulls his attention away, and I sit back down on the bleacher. Keeping my eyes on him as he talks with them, his gaze intent on their face as he reads their lips. As they chat, he pulls on a swim cap, tucking his white hair beneath the tight rubber. He leaves his piercings in, including the ones in his nipples, and they catch the light as he sheds his shirt, standing on the pool deck in only a speedo that makes me want to launch myself over the balcony and down to him, just so no one else can see him in the revealing swimsuit.

I feel like a voyeur as I take in every single line of his suit. It leaves nothing to the imagination and reminds me of the night he gave in and kissed me. Vanilla cupcakes waft off of my skin and from my scent glands the longer I watch him. He slowly removes his piercings and drops them on top of his discarded shirt. Matt’s palm lands on my thigh, and he squeezes, drawing my attention to him.

“Keep perfuming, and we will miss his swim.”

“Are you going to fuck me under the bleachers?” I laugh as our eyes lock and hold. The laughter dies on my lips at his hungry stare.

His tongue swipes over his lip, and he glances at the people around us before bringing his eyes back to me. “I was thinking of getting your scent into the back seat of my Bronco.”

Squirming, I draw in a breath, reminding myself that I'm actually here to watch Riley swim and not to have sex in the back of a car in a parking lot.

“Maybe after,” he says, his voice husky after he lets me imagine it fully.

I swallow and pull my gaze away from his hazel eyes. Riley has moved to his starting block, along with the people he is competing against. His eyes lift to us, and he nods once before focusing back on the timer that will tell him when it is time.

Anticipation fills the bleachers, and a hush falls over the crowd. Then the bell rings, and the timer starts. Riley explodes from his starting block, cutting through the water at least ten times faster than his competition. I hold my breath as he plows toward the wall and does a perfect-looking twist of his body before heading back the way he came.

A 100-yards never felt so long. The timer reads 48.59 seconds when he reaches the other side of the pool, the clear winner of the butterfly stroke during this swim.

He launches himself from the water and pulls off his swim cap as his teammates cheer around him, and the race finishes behind him. Eight new swimmers take the blocks as the others climb from the water, and I watch as their round starts and ends. Two other sets of eight swimmers compete in the same preliminary heat for the best time of the butterfly stroke.

None of them beat Riley’s time. With the preliminary heat finished, he is moving on to the next round. The top sixteen swim again after a few of the other races take place. The warm humidity in the air is thick but soothing, along with the smell of the pool reminding me of the community pool we would sometimes visit as kids.

We had swimming lessons together when we were really little. Cam’s parents paid for Riley that summer. It was right after his mom died. Looking back on it, I know that they just wanted to give him an outlet, someplace to be with friends and feel normal in a world that probably was the opposite of that.

Blinking, I bring myself back to the present and watch as Riley takes the block for the semifinals at this meet. Matt and I cheer loudly before the start of the heat, even though Riley can’t hear us. If he looks over, he will see us, and that is all that matters.

He has another 48-second time, and the crowd eats it up. One other swimmer is a fraction of a second faster than him, encouraging the crowd to cheer so loud once the race is done that it echoes back at us from the other side of the pool.

When Riley takes his place for his final heat of the day, I stand, holding my breath. His eyes find me in the crowd, and his lips kick up in a smile before he focuses back on the timer. The buzzer is muffled to my ears as his body explodes from the block and cuts through the water like he is more merman than human.

When he is the first to finish, the air whooshes out of my aching lungs. Turning to Matt, I throw my arms around him in celebration before he is on his feet, tugging me down the bleachers and out the door to the stairs that lead to the pool deck. He pushes open the doors like we belong down here. I watch as Riley lifts his eyes to where we were sitting, his brow crinkling in confusion before he catches sight of us now on his level.

He smiles widely before closing the distance between us. There is zero hesitation before I am in his wet arms, the scent of chlorine from the pool and chocolate chip cookies filling my senses as I let out a laugh when he swings me around as if I weigh nothing.

When he sets me down, he steps back, still smiling. ‘I did it,’ he signs.

I point at him with my index finger before lifting my hands, both vertical palms out, and hold them apart at shoulder level, then briefly push them both forward and then push forward lower, just below chest level. Signing to him, ‘You’re wonderful.’

He nods, signing back, ‘I know.’

Matt snorts out a laugh. “Don’t encourage him,” he says out loud before signing, ‘We will meet you outside.’

He signs, ‘Okay. Soon.’ before heading back to the team and accepting the congratulations from them.

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