“BECCA! GET IN HERE.”
“NO!” I shouted.
There was no time to prepare. Before I could run and lock myself in the bathroom, Becca and Kinsley had worked their dynamic duo voodoo magic on me. Becca had my hands pinned to the floor and Kinsley had my feet. I tried my hardest to thrash them off me, but it was no use.
“Who are you going swimming with?” Kinsley asked again.
“You’re not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition,” I replied.
“Stop changing the subject! With whom do you plan to swim?!”
“No one! I like to swim laps every now and then!”
She shook her head. “Becca, go fill up a cup. We’re going to have to waterboard her.”
“NO!”
“Kinsley, I think that’s a war crime, even in Rio,” Becca warned.
“Well if she likes the water as much as she claims, it shouldn’t feel like torture.”
“Let me go and I’ll tell you! I promise.”
“Tell us and then we’ll let you go,” Kinsley countered.
“Ow, my wrist!”
Becca was technically holding my bad wrist and though she wasn’t really hurting it, my ruse still worked. She loosened her grip just enough that I could break free and twist out of their grasp. I jumped off the floor and reached for something to throw at them in case they came near me again. A cleat was the first thing I grabbed for, but Kinsley was faster. She yanked my favorite t-shirt off the floor, the Harry Potter one with a picture of Rupert Grint across the front and the words “King Weasley” underneath.
“Tell me or Ron gets it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
She stretched the material near the neck, just enough to show me she was serious.
I dropped the cleat and held my hands up in surrender.
“Fine, you death eater, I’m going swimming with the duke.”
They exchanged a knowing glance and then Kinsley let my t-shirt drop to the floor. I ran for it and picked it up, confirming that Ron was indeed unharmed.
“Why would you go swimming with him? He’s betrothed to another girl.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know that. But there’s been a development.”
“Go on…” Kinsley implored, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation.
“Truthfully, it’s because we—he—made a little bet about it at poker night. He told me he wasn’t good at poker—which was a huge lie by the way—and I lost. So, now I have to go swimming with him.”
They did another one of those “oh dear, this situation doesn’t look good” glances.
“Would you two stop? Nothing is going on. And even if something was going on, it isn’t me that is initiating it.”
I wasn’t even lying. Freddie and I had played a few hands of poker the night before and it’d been fun to let my hair down and relax. I knew he was betrothed and he knew I was too cool for him, so there was no pressure. We could just be friends. Super hot, super not interested in each other friends. I didn’t see the problem.
At the end of poker night—after I’d called him out for being a cheating asshole—he’d laughed and reached for one of the cards on the table. He scrawled something on it and then Thom shouted out for him, telling him he was heading home for the night. Freddie pressed the card into my palm and then turned away. I stood there, watching him leave, ignoring the slope of his muscled back and shoulders as he walked through the door.
When I turned the card over, it read, 1:00 PM - Central Natatorium Training Complex.
He didn’t even bother asking me if I was free to swim then. Clearly I had to go, if only to reprimand him for assuming, and to tell him that if there was a next time (which there wouldn’t be), he should ask me about my schedule first.
I explained this to Kinsley and Becca and they both shook their heads.
“That makes no sense,” Kinsley said. “You’re going because you think the man will look good in the pool.”
Becca nodded. “And you want to see him shirtless. You’re reverse Ariel; you’re trading your human legs for a mermaid tail so you can kiss him.”
I gasped. “What? No. That’s preposterous.”
“You’ve never used that word, so I know you’re lying.”
“Right well, thanks for the love you two. Must get ready now. Chat later.” I shooed them both out of my room—a bit forcefully at the end since Kinsley is strong for her size. She tried to hold on to the doorframe and dig her heels in, but I pushed her out and then locked the door as quickly as possible.
“You’re only fooling yourself!” she shouted back.
I couldn’t hear her over the sound of me telling myself how smart it was to go for a swim. Really, as my big sister on the soccer team, Kinsley of all people should have been encouraging my interest in cross-training.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Freddie
INHALE. STROKE. STROKE. Inhale. Stroke. Stroke. I sliced through the cold water as I felt the muscles in my arms start to protest. I’d finished my workout a few minutes earlier, but I kept swimming. It was the best kind of burn, the slow-spreading reminder of how close I was to competing in another Olympic games. I kicked hard, touched the wall, and sprang up out of the water to check the timer. I’d finished half a second faster than my last circuit.
“Good work, Archibald,” Coach yelled from across the pool.
I pulled myself out and shook off water like a mangy mutt.