Page 19 of In Too Deep

“Oh my God, Lacy, you don’t stare at his crotch? Fuck, I do. He and East are seriously loaded down south, if you know what I mean.”

“How do you function?” I chuckle.

“I don’t. Get used to it.”

The taxi pulls up. Caro pays him before we slide out and head inside. It’s close to ten p.m., and we need to go to bed.

“Right, sleep tight. You have a final tomorrow, and I have my first heat in the morning—”

“More like you’rein heat,” I murmur as I make my way to my room.

“Ha!”

“Night, Lacy!”

“Night, Caro!”

***

I’m sitting in the stands with Coby, focusing on Caro as she swims her heat for the 100m Breaststroke. She’s in her first fifty, and she’s about to hit the wall in third. Coby and I root for her as she glides through the water, and I panic when she hits the wall and turns for the final fifty—Caro’s still in third.

“C’mon, Caro, lift girl, lift,” I call, bouncing up and down on my seat.

Coby chews his bottom lip as we both sit as far forward as possible. And as if she hears me, she pulls up her game, stroking harder. Her head bobs up and out of the water, performing faster and producing a more even stroke. My adrenaline piques as she overtakes Natalia. Now she’s headed for first. She’s neck and neck with Natalia, pushing harder. She moves out a stroke in front of Natalia when they both glide under the water and slam against the wall.

I scan the scoreboard to see who hit first.

It’s Caro.

I squeal as I turn to Coby. He pulls me into his arms and smooths my hair back from my face as I gaze into his eyes. Sparks fly between us. As I stare into his luminous blues, wanting so badly to lean in and kiss him, time stands still. All the elation of Caro’s victory shapes this moment while I stare into his eyes.

I vaguely hear “Easton Summers, Playford Swimming Club,” over the speakers. The words break me out of my Coby-induced trance before I glance down at the pool. Not only is Caro out of the pool, but the next lot of swimmers have lined up to be announced.

I gulp as I turn from Coby to East, as he waves his biceps around like a fool.

“He’s a show pony,” Coby remarks.

He dips his head as I giggle. I cannot deny the chemistry surging between Coby and me.

Nonetheless, it’s a distraction.

Then I focus on Easton, who jumps into the water and faces the pool’s edge, waiting for the order.

“Take your mark.”

He pulls up ready to leap backward for his 100m backstroke. It’s the only stroke where you start in the pool.

The gun fires. He throws himself backward into the depths. Cheers erupt around us. He has a fan club of, well,everyone here—it’s his personality. He is so gregarious. So we cheer him on as he pulls up and strokes backward. I can’t help but admire his toned body. His physique ripples and sparkles through the water. Then he hits the wall in second. He continues to glide through the liquid without effort, and I can see why this is his priority stroke. As he continues, he’s neck and neck with a guy from Queensland.

They hit the wall at the same time.

We study the board.

East has come through in second position.

We clap and cheer—his time being good enough for him to get through to the semi.

“We should go to the athletes’ area. Try and catch up with them?” Coby asks. I nod.

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