Page 59 of Dire Straights

“Invested?” I echoed. It was true, I didn’t give a shit about the swim team, and especially not my teammates. But it wasn’t fair for him to call me out on it. “But I show up to every practice. And I was the only one who placed at the meet.”

“I know that. You’re a great swimmer, Holmes. But you’re not exactly bonding with the team.”

I couldn’t deny that.

“Do I really need tobondwith the team?” I asked incredulously. The revulsion in my voice must have been obvious, because he instantly looked offended.

“Building friendships within the team is proven to enhance performance in the pool,” he said, setting his coffee mug down with a loud thump. “A positive team environment builds trust and motivation.”

“If that’s true, then why am I the best on the team?” I countered. He answered me with a long sigh.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you need to put more of an effort into the team if you want to stay on it.”

Was he fucking kidding me? I was spending so much of my time with these fuckers already. My churning stomach clenched. I was trying so hard, giving so much time to this thing that made me miserable. I could have been spending more time with Ren, or my other friends, or studying, or fuckingsleepingso I wasn’t wandering around like a zombie all the damn time. And it still wasn’t enough? Adrenaline exploded in my veins, nausea crashing over me from the stress.

It wasn’t my fault I didn’t get along with the fucking bigoted morons on the team. Especially now that O’Conner had taken it upon himself to decide I was a fag and that he didn’t want to share a locker room with me.

“I have to go,” I managed to mumble out, before bolting out of his office. I heard him call my name, but I sprinted down the hall, turning a corner to slip into a bathroom. Waiting it out in a stall, grateful there weren’t any other guys in there, I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to will away a massive incoming headache. When I was sure enough time had passed that he wasn’t looking for me or hadn’t followed me, I slipped back out and headed toward home.

What the fuck was I going to do? I was already giving them as much time as I possibly could, without cutting out the parts of my life that I actually fucking enjoyed, and they still didn’t want me. I was basically poisoning the team with my shitty attitude. What would my dad think about that if he ever found out? That the one thing he’d raised me to be able to do, thrive in a sports team setting, the second I was out of his direct line of sight I was failing miserably at? I’d never been unwanted.

I didn’t want to ruin everything, but the miserable dread that had been building up as the trip inched closer was now magnified to the max. I almost stopped and threw up on the side of the street several times on the walk home. The thought of actually going now was unfathomable, like someone with claustrophobia willingly locking themselves in a tiny box.

When I stumbled into the house, Caelyx glanced up at me briefly from the couch, where he was scrolling on his phone. He greeted me with little interest, before doing a double take at my appearance.

“Jesus, Maddox. Did you contract the fucking plague?” He asked, rolling off the cushions to come up and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Huh?”

“You’re pale as a ghost. And sweaty as all hell,” he added, swiping a finger over my forehead and waving it in front of my eyes. “Were you working out or something? Like, in the driveway?”

“No. I’m, uh… I’m kind of freaking out.” I must have looked really bad for him to even bother worrying. I must havefeltreally bad to even consider talking to him, of all people, about it.

“Alright, take a seat before you pass out on the carpet,” he said, nudging me over to the couch so I could collapse onto it. “Tell Daddy all about it.”

“I just can’t do it. I can’t.” I didn’t do this whole telling other people my problems thing, but it was like part of my brain was shut down.

“Did Ren knock you up?” He wondered. “You have options now, you know. It’s not like the old days.”

“Shut up.” Fucking moron.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, taking a seat on the floor so we were eye level. “Couldn’t help myself. What’s really going on?”

Sighing deeply, I rolled onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to go on the trip with the swim team.”

“That’s what this is about? Some stupid fucking trip?”

“Yes, this is about some stupid fucking trip,” I snapped at him. “The guys on the team hate me. I hate them. Coach says I need to bond with them. I just can’t force myself to spend a week with people who hate my fucking guts.”

“So don’t go,” he suggested. Like it was that easy.

“I can’t just not go. My parents know the trip takes up the first week of winter break. If I ask my mom to pick me up a week early, it’s going to be pretty obvious I’m not there.”

“Dude. We don’t live in the dorms. We don’t have to go home on breaks. Just hang out here the first week, then have her pick you up like normal. They’re not going to know.”

It sounded stupid, but it only took me a few seconds to realize it wasn’t. There was really no way they could know, unless they looked at the team’s Instagram account and I knew for a fact neither of them had a clue how to work Insta. I wasn’t exactly a rebel, but lying was a welcome alternative to admitting I was completely failing at the one thing they both expected me to excel in.

“I guess hanging out here for a week by myself won’t be so bad,” I admitted.

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