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“The aquatics center sent out a newsflash on one of their social media accounts,” Jim responded.
“They did what?”
He shook his head, warning me not to lose my shit in front of a hundred news hounds.
“It was going to happen anyway. At least now you get the bloody press out of your face, and for the rest of the week the novelty will be over for them.”
I scowled. I wanted to swim, but not like a fucking trained dolphin.
“Pretend they aren’t here. You do it all the time.”
Jim stepped back while I stretched in front of the open lane. I had the same routine I used before every meet. I was superstitious and ritualistic about how I swam. I crossed the right arm over the left first—always.
I never changed the order of movements.
“Hey, Blaine. How are you feeling today?” a reporter shouted from the side of the pool.
I ignored the question, but flashed a smile.
“What’s your first day in Rio de Janeiro been like?”
“Going to break another record?” The questions kept piling up.
I should be happy as hell I was here, but in the back of my head was the frustration that things with Ava were unresolved.
“All right, first lap is a warm up only,” Jim instructed. “Get a feel for the lane. Just let your muscles ride out the water. Okay?”
I nodded. Jim was worried the time change would affect my time. It was one of the reasons we arrived so much earlier than the other swimmers.
“Whenever you’re ready.” He smiled at me.
“And what about them?” I tilted toward the press.
“Block them out.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled the goggles snugly in front of my eyes. I tugged the straps behind my ears. The swim cap snapped against my forehead as I completed my pre-swim ritual.
Drown them out, I told myself. I looked straight ahead. The water shimmered. I could see the interlocking rings on the tiled floor gli
stening through the depths. I was the first one in this pool. I owned it. I owned the gold.
I gripped the sides of the block with the edges of my fingers, tucked my knees, then dove forward, pushing off with the strength in my legs. I sliced through the water, skimming as far as I could before coming up into my freestyle stroke.
The water felt good. I took in enough air and eased into the first lap, letting my arms and legs stretch before I kicked off the wall for the return lap.
By the time the first round of warmups had finished, half of the stands were full. I propped my elbows on the edge of the pool.
Jim leaned down. “Well, we know who everyone is going to be cheering for next week.” His grin spread from ear to ear.
“This is bullshit.” I kept my voice low. “I just want to swim.”
“Then swim.” He stood up, pulling his timer from his coach’s jacket. “Do a full medley.”
“Still bullshit.” I dove into the water as the timer started to tick.
12
Ava
