Winter Miracle Read online

  The arms come undone. “It’s not the worst idea you’ve had. In fact, I don’t think you’ve said anything overtly sexual or offensive in,” she checks her watch, “about an hour now. That must be some kind of record.”

  I point back to the screen. “Just show me what the big guy with the sword does.”

  She grins, lips supple. “With pleasure.”

  *

  Meet day—Time to kick some Ivy League ass.

  I wave to Tia on my way to the changing rooms. She’s smack dab in the middle of the crowd with that gymnastics chick she’s been spending all her time with. She’s probably a lesbian knowing your luck.

  This is a big meet. I have to qualify here or kiss any chance of making the Olympic team goodbye. I’m not on fire, but I’m good enough. I haven’t worked this hard to let it slip through my fingers now.

  Cutter points up to Tia. “You hitting crazy yet, man?”

  “Too busy with your mom”.

  He punches me in the shoulder. “Low, even for you.”

  On the other side of the crowd I see Billy holding up a ‘Team Goliath’ sign with a crude drawing of what could be a rocket taking off or a penis ejaculating—it’s hard to tell.

  It’s busy in the change rooms. Ethan’s pulling his gear on, looks about as bat-shit insane as always these days. The whole over-the-top episode last week was one thing, but that was just it. It was a once-off. He apologized the very next day. Every training session since he’s been his usual asshole, cheeky self. God knows what’s up with him.

  I place my bag down on the bench, start to strip.

  Ethan pulls up beside me. “You ready for this?” he asks, slapping his chest.

  I pull off my pants, wouldn’t be surprised if my dick starting talking for me. “I was born ready. You?”

  He smiles. “Born to kick your ass.”

  I take out my suit, step into it, pull it up my thighs. Such a tight fucking fit. Any tighter and I’d cough out my balls. Someone slaps my ass. “That you, Cutter?”

  He pushes in between us, unzips his bag. “You fuckers watch it out there. I’m feeling gooooooood today.”

  “What, you finally get laid?” I tease.

  The call for our heat comes over the PA. I zip up my bag and prepare to head out. “Anyone seen my water bottle?”

  Someone throws it on top of my bag.

  “Thanks,” I offer, taking a few glugs to keep myself hydrated. “See you out there.”

  “Yeah,” laughs Cutter, “see your pretty ass on the podium”.

  I love the fucking energy of these meets. I live for it. It’s fuel in my tank, better than sex.

  I’m charged, more than ready for this to score my ticket to Rio, but something happens between the time I leave the changing rooms and the actual heat. I start to space out. My head feels fat on my shoulders. I drink a little more, but it doesn’t help. Soon all I’m feeling is full-blown paranoia.

  I stretch behind the blocks, pull my googles on. Keep it the fuck together.

  Cutter looks across, concerned. “You alright there, cowboy?”

  I shake my head, can’t lose the rocks inside it. “Nerves.”

  He laughs. “Blake Emmanuel Johnson nervous? That’s new.”

  I look down seeing three lanes instead of one. “I guess so.”

  By the time I step up onto the blocks I’m having a complete panic attack, shaky and off-kilter. What the hell is happening?

  I look up to the crowd and see Tia and Coach. Both of them are watching me closely.

  Do not fuck this up.

  I actually reach up and slap myself across the face, nice and hard, limber up a little and get down to business.

  Do not fuck this up.

  Do not fuck this up.

  Do not fuck this up.

  God knows how many hangovers I’ve swum off before, but I haven’t had a drink in over a week. It’s been water only for days now.

  Get in the game.

  This is a no-lose situation. I’ve got to put in a time here.

  “Blake?” Cutter shouts, the concern greater.

  I wave him off. “I’m fine.”

  I think back to what I ate, but why now? Maybe you really are nervous? This is it, after all.

  I’m so zoned out I almost forget to take position, slow on the launch, the water feeling like fucking concrete when I hit. It’s all a fucking blur.

  The pain’s real, but nothing, not this headache, not this weird fucking feeling, is going to stop me. The muscle memory kicks in. I pull and push, body moving through the water, let it flow over me, rush past my sides.

  It’s over.

  I surface, almost go back under the pain hits so strong, the world a smear, but I’ve done it—second, but it will be enough. Ethan’s slipped ahead, but he can have it today. I wasn’t at my best.

  Cutter helps me from the pool, can see something’s up. Coach and Tia meet us. Coach takes my arm, sees I’m about one second from hitting the floor. “You alright, son? You look fucking terrible.”

  “Sit down,” adds Tia, face full of concern.

  “Sit down?” I laugh, just as the world closes in and everything overwhelms me at once.

  I go down hard. All I can think about lying on the tiles is how damn bright those lights are overhead and how fucking stupid I must look here on my back.

  Pussy. Should have listened to the lady.

  *

  I come into Coach’s office, take a seat.

  He picks up a file. “Physically, the doctors say you’re fine, but there was some weird shit in your bloodwork.”

  “Weird shit?”

  He snorts. “Trace amounts of fuck-knows-what, nothing prohibited, but odd enough for them to notice.” He slaps the file down, two hands on his desk. “You tell me straight, son. Are you using something?”

  “No.”

  “One last time.”

  How fucking dare he. “I said no and it’s the fucking truth.” I stand. “You don’t believe me?”

  “You’ve got a history of substance abuse.”

  I spin around, turn my back to him with my hands on my hand. “Precisely, a history. That’s the past. I’m clean. You have my word.”

  He sits, placated for now. “Fine, fine, sit. You’re making me nervous.”

  I sit, tense.

  Coach does the same. “So, what happened? You freak out? You lose it? It happens to the best of us. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. We’ll get a psychologist in, get you going good as new.”

  “Save your money. It was a once-off, probably something I ate. It won’t happen again.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “One-hundred-percent, sir.”

  He nods, satisfied. “Okay, but you’re on light duties until the end of the week. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  *

  Tia picks up her burrito, doesn’t realize half of it is spilling out the bottom. “I mean, it’s not funny, but damn did you go down.” She makes an exploding motion with her hand, “like boom! KO!”

  Billy cracks up tipped back in his chair. “The bad boy of swimming fainting like a little girl—not a good look, bro.”

  “Says the man who can’t stand spiders.”

  Billy points his fork. “Not cool.”

  Tia intervenes. “Enough, you two. Did you hear about the party at the old pool tonight?”

  I exchange a glance with Billy. We’re losing touch if she’s the one with the party intel. “Sure did. You want to go?”

  She takes a bite of her burrito, somehow manages to make even that look sexy. “Hell, yes.”

  I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Aren’t we becoming the campus socialite? Okay then, but you do know about the dress code, right?”

  A look of surprise hits her. “Dress code?”

  Billy’s smile grows.

  *

  The three of us show up to the side entrance to the old pool at ten o’clock.

&nbs
p; Tia’s got her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea in the middle of winter.”

  I’m just pleased the cold is keeping my dick from turning these boxers into the Sears Tower.

  Wearing only the cutest god-damn panties I’ve ever seen and a bright pink bra, nipples diamond hard, I’m tempted to sweep Tia up into my arms and take her back to my room. I bet she’s wet right now, hot and ready. What I wouldn’t give to run my tongue inside her mouth, her pussy.

  Easy now. Easy.

  Billy’s jumping from foot to foot, knocks on the door again. “Fuck, come on. My old man’s turning into an icicle out here.”

  The door swings wide and Cutter smiles wearing Calvin Klein briefs. Looks like he’s stuffed a sock down there. “What’s up, fuckers? Come on in.”

  Billy pushes past him. “About fucking time, bro.”

  Tia squeezes up behind me to get through, arms still hugging herself tight. I don’t know if it’s because she’s cold or self-conscious, not that she has any reason to be. This is an athletic college. Perfect bodies are everywhere you look, but Tia stands apart. There’s something different about her that the other Barbie dolls lack. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but every time I look at her it zings straight between my legs—cock kryptonite.

  I lead her in. “First underwear party?”

  She looks a little concerned. “You could say that.”

  She’s got a slight wedgie. It takes every drop of willpower in the tank to stop myself from reaching down and pulling it free.

  As we come into the pool area, the music grows, reverberating off the walls. Unlike the newer Edmond Manners complex, the old pool center is fully enclosed, not a window in sight, which, of course, makes it perfect for incognito parties like this. I still remember the day Cutter stole the master key out of the administration office. The cheeky bastard had it copied and back before they even knew it was gone.

  Seems the word’s really gotten out. There’s flesh everywhere you look, drinks and beats, people dancing in the empty pool, others sitting on the edge. There must be a hundred people in here.

  We come up beside Billy.

  “Damn,” he says, thrusting his pelvis out. “Better turn-out than last year.”

  “Only because I decided to make an appearance,” I wink.

  “What if security comes?” whispers Tia.

  Billy points behind his back. “We get the fuck out of here, that’s what. Come on, I’ll grab you a brew.”

  I watch the two of them head over to the kegs. Ethan’s there in black silky boxers handing out drinks. I’m trusting him less and less these days. His mood is all over the place. One minute he’s fine, your best buddy, the next? Fucking Hyde.

  Billy drifts off to hit on the girl’s hockey team—for the one-hundredth time—leaving Ethan alone with Tia. She opens up her stance a little, takes a cup, laughs.

  My fist tightens again. Motherfucker. What the hell does she see in him?

  “Make a cute couple, don’t they?” Magnus is smiling beside me in a god-awful banana hammock that leaves nothing to the imagination.

  I look down. “You never thought to trim that Amazon forest down there? Holds you back in the water, you know.”

  He grabs his junk. “Ladies love a bit of cushioning, man.” He looks me up and down. “I get you want to be aerodynamic and shit, but a cock and sack without hair, it’s weird, like an alien egg or something. What do you think chicks think when they get down there and see you’re hairless as a choir boy?”

  “Funny,” I reply, “hasn’t kept them away, has it?”

  I spot Ethan placing his hand on Tia’s back. I want to snap it off. I thought after what went down at the gym party she’d be steering well clear of him, whatever it was, but here she is running back into the fire. Stupid. Real stupid.

  Magnus points to a group of girls sitting in an empty spa full of balloons. “You meet the new cycling recruits? Thighs of steel, man. Crush the life out of you.”

  “Can’t say I have.” I turn my attention back to Tia, but she’s gone along with Ethan. I look around, but they’re nowhere to be found.

  Fuck.

  Magnus grabs my arm. “Blake, you listening to me?”

  I shrug him off.

  “Suit yourself, man. I’m going to get me some of that sweet biker girl action.”

  I watch him go, the party in full swing but my mood’s far from merry. I should go look for her, stop Ethan before he really hurts her.

  No, let her be. You can’t touch her anyhow. She’s going to hook up with someone and it’s not going to be you. Get the fuck used to it.

  I can’t. Fine, she can’t be with me, but Ethan? Fuck that. She deserves better.

  No one will be good enough.

  Maybe not, but the last thing I want to see is the unholy wrath Reed brings down upon us all when his baby girl shows up on the Fuckbook.

  Something hits me in the face.

  I wipe beer out of my eyes. “Hey.”

  A mousy girl in a polka-dot panties and matching bra is holding an empty cup before me, her beer coating her chest and face.

  She sways there. “I’m so sorry! Want to fuck?”

  Her friends drag her away back to the party, one of them eyeing me in that way that says ‘We slept together and you never called, what’s up with that?’

  I make my to the bathrooms, wipe and clean as much of the beer off as I can.

  Great fucking party.

  I don’t want to stay, but the thought of spending the rest night alone back at the apartment isn’t terribly appealing either. I find a seat up in the stands and a six-pack, sitting up there drinking and watching the party below. I watch Billy try and fail to pick up. He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.

  Over in the corner Cutter’s having a little more luck, a different girl on each arm.

  Alpha me would have been all over this shit a week or two ago, but ever since Tia’s arrived all I think about is her, about her soft hair and doe eyes, the way she walks and sits and eats fucking burritos. God, she’s taken over my head right when I need it the most.

  Why? The gaming thing is cool, the fact she’s a little clueless about college life is endearing, but it’s way more than that. She gets me, not that she’d ever admit it, and not the ‘bad boy of swimming’, but the regular Blake Johnson that wants to be more, that wants to be the best.

  Fuck Reed, I tell myself. I’m going to tell her how I feel. We’re all adults. If she wants to be with me, Coach is just going to have to get used to it.

  If she wants to be with you.

  It’s a long shot, but hell, I’m all about risk and reward.

  I toss the last can away and stumble back down to the party looking for her. I check the restrooms, the changing rooms, but she’s nowhere to be found.

  I stop by Billy. “Seen Tia?”

  He throws a lopsided smile at the blond he’s trying to work. “Not now, bro.”

  I walk off. If she’s left with Ethan, I’m fucked, and then I find them.

  I come outside and look left. At first I see nothing. That’s until I hear Tia’s voice.

  “No,” she says, a whimper.

  I search for the voice.

  “Ethan,” a plea, but her voice is lax and weary. She’s drunk.

  “Now, now, baby,” comes Ethan’s voice, the sound of bushes moving.

  I jump through the shrubs and find Ethan on top of her, a hand on the side of her face and the other pulling his boxers down.

  Tia sees me and smiles, completely clueless as to the danger she’s in. “Blake!”

  She’s fucking wasted.

  Ethan looks up, eyes wide. “What the fuck do you want, Johnson? Can’t you see I’m busy breaking this one in?”

  That’s all it takes. I reach down and flip him onto his back. “Get the fuck off her.”

  He stands up, fuming.

  Tia remains lying down.

  Ethan runs forward and shoves me. I ba
rely manage to keep my balance. “What the fuck was that for?” he shouts. “You cock-blocking now?”

  “She said ‘no’.”

  Ethan steps into my space. “Who are you? What, you’re the fucking fuck nazi now?”

  I react, slamming my fist into his gut.

  He folds in half, gasping, but he doesn’t go down. I’m not the only one with abs of steel.

  It’s dark. I don’t see his knee driving up into my side. It connects with a solid crunch.

  “Fight!” someone yells from the door.

  Wincing, I look behind my shoulder and see people gathering outside.

  Another hit comes to my side, the wind knocked out of me as I’m driven to the ground, wiry shrubs like sandpaper against my back.

  Ethan lands a solid blow directly into my face, but I manage to roll us over.

  I pound his face—left, right, left, right—until his nose is bloody, but the fucker just won’t stop. He manages to kick me off onto the gravel path, smashing into my ribs with his head.

  I press my feet back and drag him into a headlock, his blood running hot and viscous down my arm, a gash on my face where he got me, the two of us spinning and grunting.

  “Blake?” comes Tia’s voice again, far less eager now.

  A siren whoops, the blue lights of the campus security car approaching fast.

  Fucking hell.

  “Security!” someone else yells.

  There’s screaming, people peeling past us to get away.

  I let go of Ethan, push him away.

  He holds his neck. “You’re fucking dead, Johnson.”

  Billy grabs me. “Come on, man. You’re on your last life, remember?”

  I look around. “Tia?”

  I stumble back into the bushes and scoop her up in my arms, the three of us running down the hill around the back side of the building as the security car comes to a screeching halt. “Stop!” rings through a loudspeaker as the party comes to an abrupt end.

  We don’t stop running until we get back to the apartment.

  “That was fucking close,” huffs Billy, the door closing behind him.

  There’s some slight pain in my side, but nothing I can’t handle. “You’re telling me.”

  I make my way into Tia’s room and place her in her bed, pull the sheets over her as she mutters something about peanut butter sandwiches.