“I’ve survived this long without your help, but thanks.”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Titus’s gaze darkens, his eyes almost appearing to turn black as his nostrils flare in obvious annoyance before he turns and all but stomps off.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
I turn back to Felix and find him leaning toward me again, and I can’t help but do the same as if pulled by a magnet.
“I know, but I wanted to,” I tell him, and fuck me if that smile couldn’t make me do so much worse.
I’ve always known that Gavin and Wren were ‘rivals’; he was very loud about it, had been since she beat him at that first spelling bee, but somehow I missed the part where that meant he hated her.
Hell, Jordan beat Titus’s team a few times and even beat me in swimming until he stopped competing.
Which I’d been grateful for at the time; losing wasn’t an option now.
Knowing he’s dead made that a little shittier, though. I’d thought he'd just quit; maybe it all got to be too much. He did play in just about every sport; it wasn’t unheard of for someone to face burnout.
It was different with Gavin and Wren, though; it’s as if she’d personally attacked him, and honestly, I might have tried to avoid her because that was easier at first, but the more time I spend with her, the more I think he might be the one in the wrong here.
Wren is… perfect.
And not in the ‘not a hair out of place, does no wrong’ type of way Gavin likes to think she is. No, Wren is perfectly imperfect in the ‘I’d give a stranger the shirt off my back, save a puppy from a burning building, and help my worst enemy’ kind of way.
Which only makes me feel like an even bigger pile of shit every time I spend time with her.
The only silver lining is that while my father might have demanded this, I actually find myself wanting to do it regardless, not that that’s much better.
Fuck.
The final bell for my day rings, and I realize with a start that I’d zoned out for most of the class.
Fantastic. The last thing I need is for my grades to slip when I’m so close to freedom.
Tossing my stuff in my bag more forcefully than necessary, I quickly push to my feet and head out. The one good thing about my size and ‘reputation’ is that everyone stays the fuck out of my way, which makes getting to the pool for practice much easier.
I swim five days a week for training and leave the other two for studying. It’s a lot of work, but so far I’ve been managing well enough that I’m winning, and none of my grades have slipped below a B.
I’ll take it.
Wednesdays are usually quiet, and while I could go back to the dorm and slip into the closed pool house, I don’t feel like it’s necessary. Most know to leave me alone when I’m training by now; besides, I’m right here.
I don’t have too long today, seeing as it’s one of the few days Wren doesn’t have anything else to do; we’re supposed to study together. Well, us and Julian have been trying to meet on Wednesdays and Fridays. It was something that Julian started in hopes of getting closer to her, and I kind of invited myself into the fold despite it not being one of my usual study days.
It might be the best decision I've ever made. I’ve never looked forward to studying as much as I do now, and my grades have never been so good. Honestly, I’d been tempted to cut down swimming practice to four days so I could try to get her to myself in the library and see how she is without Julian, but that might be pushing it.
I know what my father said, but if I start losing meets, he won’t care who I’m cozying up to.
I make quick work of changing and tossing my stuff in a locker before I head to the pool. It might not be the ocean, but still the water calls to me, my gills pushing to the surface as my body screams for me to shift, but I can’t, not here in the open like this and not in this pool.
Father spelled the other pool so I could shift back and forth as needed. This pool doesn’t have that enchantment, meaning if I shift now, I’ll be stuck like that until he allows me to shift back.
The last thing I need is another reason to be at my father's mercy, or worse, to have a mortal stumble upon me while shifted.
Instead, I push my urge to shift aside and simply slip into the pool and start swimming laps, counting the time in my head.
I need to shave off a whole three seconds to ensure my win for the next tournament. A few of the other swimmers have been getting better, so I need to up my game or risk being left in the dust. I’d become soft on my wins, feeling as though I could stay where I was because I was so far ahead, and now they're on my ass.
Seven laps later, I haven’t even managed to shave one second off when I get frustrated and take a break. I swim over to the ledge, pulling myself up to sit on the wall with a groan of frustration that bounces off the walls as I huff and puff, trying to get my breathing back under control.
