Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I don’t fight her, but I also can’t help her. Anyway, she doesn’t need my help.
As soon as we break through the surface, we both take huge gasping breaths. The air feels so good in my lungs. It clears away the black spots, but the thousand candles burning under every inch of my skin are still there.
“I can’t…I don’t think I can get us all the way over to the side,” she pants.
“I can float.”
“That’s bullshit! I’m not letting you go. How could you sink like that? You’ve won medals and shit!”
“I’m sure it happens to everyone. Muscle cramps.”
“I thought you’d know how to deal with that. This can’t be the first time.” She’s panting as she treads water, but we stay afloat. She’s not going to let me go. She might be small, but I can feel the strength in her arms. And it takes all my concentration not to lean into her. That’s saying something because most of my brain is still focused on how much this hurts.
“It’s the first time everywhere has cramped up at once.” I was pushing myself too hard out here. I’ve been swimming for what? Over an hour? And I didn’t take a single break. I was so focused on what I didn’t want to think about, trying to banish it from my brain, that I lost track of time. I lost track of everything.
“Good god, your cramps are everywhere? Then there’s no way I’m letting you go.”
“You can let me go. I’ll float.” At least, I hope so.
“No way. Do you know how much effort it took to go down and bring you back up? We’re lucky we even made it. For a guy who swims so well, you sink like the worst stone in the world. You might as well be a boulder.”
“Do I feel like a boulder?”
She shoves at me, and I almost go under, but then she yelps and grabs me again. “Let’s get out of here. I’m not a good swimmer, and I hate the water. I can’t do this for much longer.” Her breathing is strained, and her words come out choppy. She’s right.
“Kick over to the side. I’ll try my best to float.” I do try, and the cramps do all their cramping all at once again. I let out a wheeze of pain because it’s undignified to shriek and start crying. Not going to happen. I bite down on the pain instead, which means biting down way too hard. Gah, I don’t need a fat lip on top of this.
Patience obeys. She might say she hates swimming, but she’s good at it. She saved my sorry, sinking, cramped-up ass. She even gets us to the side of the pool. It takes an insane amount of effort, but with her help, I get both my arms up on the side and push. I get myself half up and then flip myself over. Was I really worried about pool boners a second ago? Now my only thought is the fiery demons that have taken up residence in my legs and back.
“Ohhhh, that hurts. Fuck.”
She hauls herself up beside me and sits there, her clothes streaming water. She sighs as she starts unlacing a purple pair of combat boots. “This is the second pair of boots I’ve ruined. I’m officially out of fun-colored footwear.”
I’m dying here, but I still feel bad. I feel bad about her boots, about her finding out what her dad told me when I was a kid, and about not telling her, missing her, and wishing I could go against her dad’s wishes about my behavior. Somehow, though, we’re here. The cramping pain is more than I can handle sitting like this, so I flop onto my stomach and gasp like a fish out of water. It’s probably not my best moment, but fuck it, it’s not like I actually care at the moment.
Agony. Pins and pricks and pain. Is it ever going to end? I lay my cheek against the concrete surrounding the pool. It’s abrasive and still holds the warmth of the sun.
“I’ll…buy you—”
“I don’t need a new pair. I don’t want you to buy me anything.” The tears glistening on her pool-wet eyelashes and shimmering down her cheeks when she angles her face are a bullet to the gut. They hurt worse than the cramps that almost drowned me. “I hate my life. That has nothing to do with you. It was easy to take my anger out on you when I saw you again. Easy to blame you. The truth is, it has nothing to do with you. I have no friends. I’ve made my whole life my dad’s work. I know it’s important, but I never wanted that for myself. I didn’t dream of staying at home. I wanted to go and do things. Even if I was broke and had so many student loans, I should have done it. I could have made my way in the world. I could have made friends and found people to share my life with. It could have been better than being alone and lonely. I’m an adult now. I’m going to move out and find my mom. My dad might have a restraining order against her, but I don’t. I’m going to get to know her. And I’m going to get to know myself.”