Page 49 of Triton

26

Aria

We cruiseddown to the base on our bikes. I loved the feeling of the ocean breeze blowing through my hair and the scent of the salt water tickling my nostrils. This life was the life I wanted to live. Eric supported me, unlike any person I have ever met. If he could only accept my career path, I knew we could make it work. Maybe if I mastered Dirty Name today, it would give me the strength to tell him. And he would see that I could pass BUD/S.

My mom had always pushed me, but it was for her benefit not for mine. She used my success to validate herself. As if raising an Olympian somehow proved that she was a good mother.

News flash it didn’t.

My mom had sacrificed for me, no doubt, but she was cruel and emotionally abusive. I frequently felt that my only worth to her was what I could accomplish and that she didn’t love me forme.

Erik, on the other hand, pushed my boundaries. Ever since I’d met him only a month ago, he had already had a positive effect on my happiness.

As icing on the cake, unbeknownst to him, he was also giving me an advantage to help me achieve mygoal.

And after our dinner the other night, I was even more impressed by him. I wanted him to succeed. I was proud to be by his side. I could help him as much as he could helpme.

I think I’m in love withhim.

Once we arrived on base Erik led me to the “O” course. This time I was in luck as a bunch of BUD/S instructors were training candidates nearby. Around twenty men stood on the shore of the beach holding Swift boats above their heads. These were the men who had completed hell week last week. The winners. The sight of my future filled my soul with adrenaline. I was so close to my dream that I could taste salt water in my mouth and feel the sand embedded in myskin.

Erik turned to me. “Okay, champ, we’re going to try this again. Place both of your feet hip distance apart, and jump so your hips wrap around the first hurdle.”

I took a deep breath and focused on the hurdle. For years, I’d worked with a sports psychiatrist, and I had learned to practice creative visualization. How to psych myself out before competitions. Imagine my body executing the flawless routine had become my daily mental practice.

Dirty Name would be no match forme.

I steadied my feet on the log, bent in a squat position, and jumped on the hurdle.

Smack. My body hit with a thud and dropped into thesand.

“Again.” Erik’s voice was calm and reassuring. Just what I needed.

I jumped again, with the same disastrous result.

And again.

And again.

For the next fucking hour, I jumped so many times that my entire body ached. I should’ve given up, but I couldn’t stop. Like an addict, I kept returning to the starting point, unwilling to accept defeat.

I jumped again, this time face planting against the wood, splitting my lip open. I wiped the blood off my mouth, picked myself off the dirt, and walked back to the starting point.

Erik ran over to me. “Okay, babe, that’s enough. Seriously. You did a great job, and I’m proud of you. But you need to give it up. I’m going to callit.”

“No.” My voice shook. “You have to let me try again. I can do it. I’ve almost gotit.”

He pulled me into him and held me tight. “Hey, what’s with you? Why is this so important to you? You act like it’s life and death. It’s not like you’re one of those guys out there whose career depends on this course.” He pointed to the BUD/s candidates, now riding the waves in their boats.

Ha. He would reexamine every bit of our relationship in his head next year when he learned the truth.

But right now, I couldn’t deal with him. Like a petulant child, I stormedoff.

He caught up to me. “Aria, what the fuck is going on with you? You are blowing hot and cold with me. I get it. You’re competitive. But you can’t win every time. And it’sokay.”

I turned to him, my face red and blotchy, the metallic taste of blood dripping down my throat. I couldn’t hold back any longer. My emotions burst onto the sand. “It’s not okay. You have everything. You’re gorgeous, have a dream career, and a family who loves you. All I have is winning. I have no close friends, I never met my father and I never will, and my mom is abusive and uses me. I have nothing. No one cares about synchro. Winning is the only thing I’ve ever been goodat.”

God, I sounded pathetic, but I couldn’t holdback.