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He positioned himself, still as stone. And when the starting gun sounded, he propelled himself into the water, clearing nearly half the pool with just one dive. He kicked his legs like a fish until he began to surface, gliding through the clear blue, before using his arms.
Muscle glistened as his long arm strokes propelled him. He gained a small lead after the first lap. His movements were smooth, effortless, his kick turns faster than any I’d ever seen, and as I watched him, it made me wish I could swim like that, be so good at something.
He was almost a foot ahead of a kid from Cedar Creek—the closest thing to competition in this event. The others were far behind, and when he approached the wall again and turned with ease, kicking his feet until he surfaced, then used his arms again, he increased his lead twice fold.
Beside us, Mr. Brooks held his phone in his hands, checking it. “I think he’s going to break his record,” he murmured.
My stomach clenched, saying a silent prayer for him, while Mrs. Brooks squealed and squeezed my arm, and before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet, clapping and cheering, screaming with a few others in the crowd.
His lead increased further. He was a torpedo in the water, now nearly two body-lengths ahead of the other swimmers, and when he slapped the wall, he shoved his goggles up, his gaze immediately shifting needle-sharp to the digital clock on the wall. Then he slapped a hand in the water and raised his fist in the air.
“He did it!” Mrs. Brooks bounced to her feet beside me. “He beat his record and the Sweet Valley record for the 200-meter!”
As the other swimmers finished, Carson turned, his gaze automatically finding mine in the crowd, and he grinned. Around me, people cheered or filed out of the bleachers, bumping me on their way down. But I just stood there, my gaze caught on his, transfixed by the rise and fall of Carson’s chest as he caught his breath, frozen by the warmth of his smile. And all I could think was, I’m completely and irrevocably screwed.
???
We fell over the doorstep of the Brooks’ home laughing. I smacked Carson on the arm, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Shut up. I did not!”
“You totally did. When Olivia stopped by our table, you definitely gave her the evil eye. But that’s okay. It’s kinda hot, having you jealous.”
Glaring, I placed my hands on my hips as Carson laughed, but I couldn’t really even be mad. After the race, a bunch of kids from school stopped by the Burger Bar for burgers and shakes, where Carson continued to surprise me. He was funny, engaging, and attentive. Even though we were with his swimming buddies, he held my hand the entire time, always making sure I was okay. Even when Olivia showed up and stopped by our table, he continued to dote on me, despite her attempts at flirting. And, okay, I’d admit it. I may have gotten a little territorial. But, really, did that girl ever quit?
“What’s so funny?”
I whirled around at the sound of Ethan’s voice.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, one hand resting on the knoll post, while his gaze flickered between us.
I glanced guiltily up to Carson like I got caught in a lie, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate. I had planned on texting Ethan back, but I got so distracted after the race, I forgot.
“Oh, um, hey,” I said, giving him an awkward wave.
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, and before I could explain, Carson said, “Inside joke.”
Ethan’s eyes flashed, then returned to mine. “Mom said you went to Carson’s meet.”
My insides shrunk at the angry look in his eye. “Yeah, I did,” I said, playing with the sleeve of my jacket, hating that I felt so weird about this.
“His party Saturday, shopping Monday, dinner, his swim meet, and now lunch at the Burger Bar? Sounds like more than just the Angel Program at work.”
Carson straightened, his tone hard when he said, “What’s your point?” Then he turned to me and grabbed my hand. “Come on, Mia, you don’t have to explain yourself to him.”
I swallowed, torn between the two boys when Ethan shrugged. “No point. I’m just making an observation.”
Carson met my eye, waiting for me to say something. But what? Did he want me to go with him? Ethan was my best friend. I couldn’t just blow him off completely.
When Ethan cocked his head, he asked, “Are we still going to Sweet Surf to catch their sale on boards, Mia?”
Oh crap. I forgot.
Taking my hesitation as a rejection, he scoffed. “I guess you were going to do that with Carson too.”
“She’d probably have more fun,” Carson said under his breath. Ethan mustn’t have heard him, though because he kept his eyes laser-focused on me.
“Of course, I’m going,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling a little defensive and annoyed he was so gruff.
“And that’s my cue,” Carson drawled. “I’m out.” He saluted Ethan, which earned him a death-stare before he turned back to me.
