Never Ever

26| Let's play pretend

The week following the Calbears' win is chaos. Addy is a Jesse-shaped wreck, Noah is AWOL, and I've spent every waking moment preparing for tryouts, which are less than seventy-two hours away.

I tell myself the Noah thing has nothing to do with me, that maybe my new training schedule doesn't lend itself well to his, but deep down, I know something is wrong.

With him, obviously. Not with me. If he wants to confess how much he likes me one minute and fall off the face of the Earth the next, that's his prerogative – my focus this week is not on the inner workings of Noah Atterwood's mind but on tryouts.

"You've been working out like crazy this week."

I glance over my shoulder to see her sitting up in bed, hair all over the place as she blinks at the clock, with reads four am.

"Jesus," she says. "It's still the middle of the night."

Laughing, I zip up my hoodie before double checking I've packed my underwear. Last time I made it all the way to Noah's before realizing I'd forgotten them, meaning I had to go commando on the way home – not something I want to repeat. "This is a reasonable time for some of us."

"Yeah," Addy says, yawning. "Those of you with a death wish. What's with the sudden surge of exercise, anyway? Are you trying to lose weight? 'Cause in case nobody tells you this enough, your body is exceptional the way it is."

"I'm not trying to lose weight." I think about telling her the truth about tryouts, but I don't have time for all the questions that come with it, like why I hid it from her in the first place. "Exercising clears my head." Not a complete lie, but I can tell she isn't satisfied. To change the subject, I say, "What's going on with you and Jesse, anyway? Still haven't heard from him?"

Her eyes fall to her phone, half alight with the possibility that maybe he's messaged before they darken again. "Nope, he's officially ignoring me, so that's that. I'm never drinking again, by the way."

I sigh and resist saying what I really want to say, which is that a simple apology, followed by an explanation, would have cleared things up, but Addy's too proud for that. They both are.

"Well, maybe he's just got a lot on his plate," I say, and then, even though it's risky, I can't help myself. "I haven't seen Noah in class this week, so maybe Coach is keeping them busy."

Addy sighs. "That's not because of Coach. Pax says Noah's turned batshit since he lost his race to Peter. He's been showing up to practice hours ahead of everyone else to get back in Coach's good books."

That explains why he's missed class this week, but it doesn't make me any less concerned. I know what it's like to give everything to swimming, and if he isn't more careful, he'll end up giving more than he has.

I should know. One could argue it's what I've been doing all week, but at least my obsession is temporary. It might sound silly, but part of me hopes that making it on the swim team will compensate for the year of my life I wasted alone. I'll be back on a team again, competing against others and doing the one thing I know how to do best, even if it's on a different scale than before.

Still, the closer D-day gets, the more nervous I become. I've dreamt about the accident every day this week, and it doesn't take a psychology degree to know that it's down to the pressure of tryouts. What if I lose my nerve? Get scared?

What if I drown?

Thankfully, Addy is back to snoring when I'm ready to leave. I catch an Uber to Noah's and head up to the rooftop, shivering as I enter the fresh air. It's getting much colder now that we're midway into November, and while Noah's pool is delightfully heated, stripping down to my swimsuit beforehand is torture.