The swimmer you want to see most won’t be there.
And this was exactly why being busy was the best thing. It would leave less time for nagging, unwanted thoughts.
6
Lars
Anticipation curled inside me,making everything else seem like noise. Perhaps it wasn’t so much anticipation at this point but impatience.
It annoyed me. Too bad being annoyed didn’t stop me from feeling it.
I’d been pretty okay until I met Wes. Seeing him flipped a switch inside me. That little flare of familiarity burst into full-blown homesickness. He wasn’t a lot like his brother… but it was enough.
I wanted to see Win. No. At this point, I was pretty sure Ineededto see him. This entire university was secondary to that one necessity. A constant thrum like a heartbeat. An itch beneath my skin that could be satisfied by one thing alone.
Pathetic.Self-loathing accompanied my impatience. They made quite a harrowing pair. I swore I’d never let this happen again. I vowed and vowed and promised I would never become dependent on anyone else ever again. That someone else would never ever be able to influence the way I lived or felt.
Just call me the Titanic. My iceberg was Win Sinclair. One collision with him and I sank to the bottom of the vast ocean where I was sure not even I would be able to find my own wreckage.
Here I was in a whole other country, anticipating a glimpse of someone I tried to hate. Someone who left without a backward glance. It pissed me off, and I wasn’t sure whom I was more pissed with: him or me.
But despite all of this, there was something else that paled in comparison. My survival instinct.
Yeah, yeah. I just said I was a sunken ship at the bottom of the ocean. But I wasn’t dead yet, and even if Win was the one to sink me… he was also apparently my life raft.
Look. I never said I made sense. Feelings rarely do.
The truth was Win made me feel safe. Something no one else had ever been able to do.
So despite hating him a little, being mad and annoyed and even scared, I wanted to feel safe most. I craved that rush ofsafe-secure-sheltered.
Damn him for giving it to me. For making me unable to function without it. Damn him for taking it away.
As I was walking across the lot leading to the massive building where the pool was located, I watched a bright-yellow four-door Jeep swing into a vacant spot right beside two that looked just like it, one cherry red and the other black.
The driver’s door opened, and Wes got out. My stare latched on to him instantly, seeking out those mannerisms that were the same as his older brother’s. His hair was curly and not the same shade of brown. Win’s hair was richer in color, and sometimes in the sun, there were hints of red. It was also longer, flopping over his ears and flipping up at his neck.
After reaching into the back to grab his duffle, Wes turned and waved in my direction. I lifted a hand, hoping that sufficed for a wave, and changed direction to meet him at the back of his Wrangler.
“You made it,” Wes said, offering me a smile.
“Elite really has two practices a day?” I asked. After this morning’s practice, Wes approached me in the locker room and introduced himself. Then he invited me to second practice, something I was surprised to hear about.
Back in Sweden, we very rarely had two practices in a day. Coach said our bodies needed rest time.
“Officially, we have just one. Two isn’t required. Some of us come twice a few days a week. It’s more relaxed because Coach usually isn’t here blowing that whistle—unless he crashes—but we do it to improve our time.”
I grimaced. “Seriously, does he always blow the whistle like that?”
Wes laughed. My heart flipped a little at the sound. At how it felt like an echo from the past.
“Hey. You okay?” Wes’s concern made my head snap up. His brows were furrowed, and he was frowning at the way my hand pressed against my chest.
Not realizing what I’d been doing, I yanked my hand down to nod. “Yeah. Of course. I was just imagining listening to that screeching every morning.” I lied.
Wes laughed again. A little of the impatience I was feeling ebbed. It was as if just being in proximity of anything to do with Win was enough to settle me.
“You get used to it.”