Never Ever

2| No strings attached

The five am alarm is a leftover habit from my swimming days. I'd wake up extra early, make myself some breakfast, and fold the edges of my duvet before practicing some dryland drills. Maybe it's stupid – especially considering the square-sized box that is our shared college dorm – but it's the one part of my high school routine I refuse to give up.

I stand with my feet hip-width apart and begin by shifting my weight to my left leg. With a slow, steady breath, I start with a few low dragon hip circles, lifting my leg as I draw tight circles with my hip. I do a few reps, stretching the muscles before moving to a new stretch.

Beside me, Addy's snoring breaks through any peace. I glance at her bed, taking in her star-shaped position and discarded duvet cover. As an only child who, until this year, has never had to share so much as a bathroom, let alone a bedroom, it's hard to get used to these living arrangements. I'm used to operating on my own schedule, having my room exactly how I want it, not how someone else wants it, but that's what college is for, exposing yourself to new experiences. Or at least, that's what I tell myself.

By the time Addy hits the snooze on her alarm, my pillows are fluffed, my stretches complete, and I'm already heading to the showers. Some would call it crazy to keep up with drills for a sport I no longer participate in, but half of a sport is better than none, even if it's the half without water.

I push open the door to the showers, the only part of my college experience that I am used to. We were required to shower after every swim practice, which means standing in a cubicle amid a row of other cubicles is the most familiar thing about college so far. Turning the faucet, I stand beneath the water and try not to think about the party last Friday, which I've been obsessing about for the entire long weekend. 

Guess that means you owe me, Blue.

Obviously, Noah isn't the empathetic type, which means he'll likely tell the others my secret, and while I doubt they'll make fun of me, I'd rather nobody know. Part of the allure of an out-of-state college is that nobody knows what happened. They weren't subjected to the local headlines, nor were they forced to hone their pitiful looks. College was supposed to be my clean slate, my one chance at figuring out who I am without swimming.

Until Noah Atterwood.

Sighing, I turn off the faucet and wrap my towel around me. Back in my room, I can't help but look at his jacket as I change, which hangs on our shared ottoman. He'd thrown it at me as if it were nothing despite the price tag, and he'd done it to cover me up. Surely a guy who would do something selfless, albeit arrogantly, would not go around blabbing everybody's secrets. In fact, with any luck, he'll have forgotten all about me.

When I'm dressed, I head to the local campus coffee shop and grab our usuals – a black coffee for me, the only thing that would get me through practice – and a mocha for Addy.

I scroll through my phone as I wait, sending a good morning message to my parents before checking my feed. There's a picture of Maisy Leggins, a girl from my old swim team, and she's smiling as she holds up a medal for winning another championship. My heart drops, and I fight back the envy as I hit the like button. Then, even though it's just torture at this point, I search for my name on Google and scan through the countless headlines.

High-School Athlete Swims Her Way to Greatness.

Small-Town Swimmer Beats National Records.

The Future is Bright for Maybury's Star Athlete.

I scroll past the others, freezing when I find what I'm looking for: Rising Star Swimmer Cheats Death: Straight-A Student Every Green Resuscitated After Drunken High-School Party Ends in Disaster.