I share a bench seat with Holden, across from his sister. Conversation flows easily from one joke to the next as we pass around the first container of snacks. Eventually, Hattie reaches for the bottle of sunscreen. Mateo snags it as soon as she’s done, and one by one, we cover our skin. Excitement grows louder with every second, turning into taunts of who can do the largest cannonball.
Hattie jumps in first, and that’s all it takes. Soon, everyone is diving off the back into the ocean. The warm water is like an inviting hug the moment I’m submerged. Instinct takes over, and I kick my feet, cutting through the water until my lungs force me to surface. I slick my hair back and glance over just in time to see Holden dive in too, all clean lines and pointed toes.
I guess old habits die hard—for both of us.
Cole looks between us, in awe and surprise. “You both dive like you were on the swim team or something.”
I can’t hide my smile. “Because we were.”
Cole’s eyes widen. “For real?”
“Yup. In high school and college.” The memory tightens something in my chest, and I resist the urge to look away.
“What was your specialty?”
“One hundred meters freestyle,” I say. “Holden’s too. We used to compete against each other.”
“No shit? Who won?”
“Me,” we both say, earning a laugh from everyone.
“Well, now I gotta see this. You wanna race?”
Holden turns to me, cautious optimism hidden behind his grin. It’s been a long time since we were on the team, but he knows I can never turn down some friendly competition.
“You’ll still lose,” I say.
He splashes me. “Oh, whatever.”
Holden, Cole, and I climb to the back dock, lining up with our toes over the edge. Hattie counts us down.
“Three, two, one… go!”
We dive in sync, hands cutting through the surface easily. Swimming in the open water is wildly different from the controlled environment of a pool, but muscle memory kicks in after only a few paces and I find my groove. With each breath, I see Holden beside me, keeping pace. I lose sight of Cole quickly.
We stay shoulder to shoulder, aiming for the buoy at the entrance to the cove. Old habits kick in after about twenty yards, and I crank my speed, kicking my feet hard. I sense Holden dialing in beside me, trying to catch up, but I still reach the buoy first, turning back toward the boat. I return half a body length ahead of him.
He grips the railing, panting hard. “Shit, I’m out of practice.”
I choke out a laugh. “Suuuure. Blame it on that.”
He wraps an arm around me and tackles me underwater. I fling myself on his back until we’re both laughing.
When Cole finally reaches us, his chest is heaving. He shakes his head as he clings to the rung of the ladder. “Remind me never to challenge you guys again.”
His awestruck tone hits something I can’t quite keep buried. Unexpected sadness creeps through me, darkening the edges of my heart. I turn away from Holden as he brags about old wins, too afraid I’ll see it—that flicker of heartache that never fully went away.
Every time I think I’ve moved past that part of my life, something drags me back—to the chlorine, the roar of the crowd, the scoreboard flashing my name.
My deadname.
We had been so close to victory. Expected to fight for gold at nationals. But two weeks before the biggest meet of our lives, I walked away without warning—even to Holden.
We’d trained together for nearly a decade. Talked about it every day. But living in that spotlight, at a time when I desperately needed privacy, was suffocating me.
Sometimes, it still does.
Taking a deep breath, I dive back into the water and swim over to Mateo, trying to slip into whatever nonsense he’s getting into with Camila. The past doesn’t linger long. It rarely does around my friends. Soon, I’m splashing and tackling Holden again.
