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“Same.” Akara stretches out his legs on the floor. We both see Sulli’s worry building. “We can put a pin on the names, Sul.”
She relaxes.
Truth: picking out names is the least stressful thing for me. Thinking about the other shit that comes with parenthood skyrockets my nerves.
The hard choices.
Guiding them to do the right thing.
The quick decisions.
I pray I have that in me.
Sulli takes a fistful of popcorn. “Do you guys ever think about when I got pregnant? We know how far along I am, but which time was the time of conception?”
I grind my teeth back and forth on the toothpick, thinking. “It’d be sometime around Training Camp, I’m guessing.”
“Yep,” Akara nods, “based on the timeline.” He leans back on his hands. “I didn’t notice the condom breaking so it must’ve been some epic sex.”
Sulli smiles, “Top fucking tier.”
“Gold status,” Akara adds.
I pipe in, “Sounds like every time we fuck.”
Sulli grins more, one that falters too fast. She’s deep in thought. “You know, I made a mental list of all the times it could’ve happened.”
“Let’s hear it,” I tell her.
She lists off her fingers. “I think there were a few times we banged in the bathtub. Or it could’ve been one of the many times on the bed. Or the less likely options. The night, here, in the library.”
Akara and I glance at the library table we fucked Sulli on. Great fuckin’ night.
“Or the locker room,” Sulli continues, “ooooor, maybe the time we fucked on the bedroom floor.” She flushes a deeper red. “I had to throw that rug out.”
“It was an ugly rug,” Akara says.
“Kits” she gapes. “It was shaped like a cupcake.”
“Exactly.”
She chucks a handful of popcorn at his face.
He laughs, letting the kernels rain down on him.
I hang an arm around her shoulders. “The list is long.”
Sulli leans into my body. “What do you say, Hardy Boys? Can you solve this mystery?”
“I’d bet us on the bed,” I say.
“The library,” Akara guesses. “But we have no way of verifying.”
She sighs. “It’s bugging me that I’ll probably never know.”
I hug her closer. “Some things are just meant to be that way, mermaid.” History we don’t know. Preserved in time somewhere we can’t reach.
51
AKARA KITSUWON
1 MONTH BEFORE THE OLYMPICS
JUNE
Tonight is the last night before Training Camp in Hawaii, and Sulli won’t leave the pool.
“Come on, string bean.” I bend down and hold out a hand.
She kicks away from the wall. “One more lap.”
Banks chews on a toothpick, watching beside me. “Don’t you want to catch some sleep before traveling tomorrow?”
“I can sleep on the plane.” She flips over on her back to practice the backstroke.
Banks and I share concern. The gun incident happened five days ago, and she’s been shaken since. She cried herself to sleep last night because a thunderstorm kept jolting her awake. And today—today, Celebrity Crush posted a fudging article about the “incident” with vague, speculative details.
We’re not letting anything reach press.
Just when Sulli has started growing used to parts of the chaos, this happens, and I feel helpless. Like I can’t cheer her up for long enough. I can’t rid her fear or Banks’ hypervigilance.
Swimming is a big distraction from the outside. She already changed out of her regulation swimsuit and just wears a turquoise bikini. She meant to go home earlier, then changed her mind at the last second.
Back in the water.
All over again.
Lately, one lap usually turns into another. Then another. Then two hours later, she’ll finally be ready to pull her exhausted self out of this pool. Any other night—I might entertain the devotion, but a couple hours won’t make or break her chances.
Besides, that’s what Training Camp is for.
To train.
“Let’s pull her out,” I tell him.
“You sure?” Banks asks.
“Yeah.”
“Right on.”
Sulli finishes her lap. “One mo—” She cuts herself off, watching as Banks and I shed down to our underwear. Like Sulli and Banks, a waterproof bandage is secured tightly around my wrist, protecting the new tattoo.
Quickly, on my phone, I disable the Aquatic Center’s security cameras for a couple hours. I have access. Swim ropes section off the Olympic-sized pool into ten lanes, and Sulli hangs onto a platform while seeing us kick our clothes aside.
Her smile rises. “Are you guys…?”
“There room for two more?” Banks asks huskily.
“Fuck, yeah…catch me if you hot-shots can.” She kicks herself backwards away from the swim platforms.
We keep our boxer-briefs on, and then we jump in. Banks is ungraceful. I’m not any better, but I am faster, swimming beneath the ropes to Sul first.
When I pop out of the water, I’m in front of our girlfriend, treading water and pushing my hair away from my face. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she breathes.
Banks comes up behind her. “Mermaid.”
She treads with us, the pool nine-feet deep.
“We’ve come to collect you,” I tell her.
Her eyes fall to my lips, and mine fall to hers. A little swollen from the amount of times she’s chewed on them since the incident. Her lips bled badly last night, and I rub my thumb across her bottom one.
