Page 55 of Whistle

14

Bodhi

Westbrook really was the Pembrook of the East Coast. Money talked around here, as did being Elite—which I now was. Something that I knew but didn’t really register. I didn’t feel like a swimmer anymore. Or a college student.

I wasn’t a son or a brother… or even a best friend.

So what was I? Who was I?

Classes started tomorrow, and there was a schedule in my hand as I trailed behind Rush on our way into the natatorium for the second time of the day. It felt like the universe was mocking me. Reminding me of all the shit I used to have but didn’t deserve.

“A lot of us get together and do a second swim in the afternoons around this time,” Rush told me without looking back. “If you want to join, the extra practice might help get you back to where you used to be.”

I made a rude noise. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His dark stare flashed over his shoulder. “We both know you lost your conditioning.” He was blunt, eyes dragging down over my chest that looked swallowed up in the sweatshirt Coach had given me.

He wanted me to call him Coach? I’d fucking call him that.

“So I lost some weight.” I scoffed like it was no big deal. It wasn’t. I didn’t need the muscle mass if I wasn’t swimming. That shit was hard to maintain, at least for me. I was naturally… not muscular. Thin. I’d always had to work extra to keep on the weight and strength.

Rush stopped right before pulling open the glass door. I nearly collided with him, my feet squeaking in my still-wet sneakers.

He reached out to steady me, but I flinched away. Glowering, he pulled back. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself at all.”

“What do you care?” I snapped.

He’d fled Cali and never looked back. Yeah, because of you.

“You’re Elite now, and that means your condition affects the whole team. Your effort, or lack thereof, reflects on us all.”

“You’ve changed,” I said before I could think better of it.

His eyes shuttered. It was a look I wasn’t used to seeing him wear, but it now seemed like half of his personality.

“Well, losing everything will do that to a person.” His voice was hard.

Touché. Also, ouch.

“Brah, from where I’m standing, you’re doing just fine.”

“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t easy to get here. You know that, bro,” he lamented, and my stomach twisted. “And I’m serious about protecting what’s mine. I won’t lose this.”

“You mean them,” I said, flinging a hand at the pool doors.

He cocked his head to the side. “Yeah. Them.”

“Funny. You weren’t that determined to hold on to what you had before.” Like me.

I thought I saw a fissure of hurt flash across his face, but he twisted it into a derisive smirk. “Kinda hard to fight for something when you’re frozen out.”

This conversation was gnarlier than a strong riptide.

“Well, don’t let me keep you from your people,” I said, turning to leave.

His hand slapped onto my shoulder. “Coach wants you in his office.”

The memory of exactly how much Coach wanted me in his office this morning sent a rush of heat through me. Remembering the way it felt to be pinned across his desk while he deep-throated my dick made it stir in my sweats.

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