I Just Want To Get le Clos To You

Seveteen

August 11th, continued

Chad immediately looked over at us. His parents have been here for every event, so I'm sure he already found their seats at the first event. Chad waves to his parents before catching my eyes. He smiles and winks.

Today is the 100m butterfly. I fact checked, Chad got a silver in it during the 2012 Olympics in London. But medals won't be determined until tomorrow. Michael Phelps is racing too, so hopefully I'll get a chance to speak with him soon enough.

The men in his heat line up with their lanes and get ready to race. I watch Chad tuck some hair into his swim cap and adjust the goggles. He looks so ready; it's like nobody was around him to cheer or boo. He was alone in the room.

It takes unbelievably long between heats. The guys will only swim for less than a minute, but there are cameras and timers and so much more that have to be taken care of. Unlike in gymnastics, you know how you placed immediately. They keep track of the top racers on a board hanging high above us, informing the other swimmers of the times they have to beat if they want to move on. Chad glances up at it, shakes his head, and crouches.

The arena hushes slightly leading up to the start of the heat. Bert and Geraldine drop their conversations and face forward, never breaking eye contact with Chad's body. He has a nice body, too; strong, but not too bulk, lean, but with enough power to push him through the water at excellent speeds.

My eyes are focused on the pool, so I jump when a noise sounds and the men dive in the water. Immediately, Chad's parents and everyone around me begin shouting. I don't know anyone else in the heat, so I shrug and join them.

"Yeah, Chad!" My voice carries. And in these moments, it doesn't matter that he's from another country. It should matter the most here, when he's competing against the people I should cheer for. But I don't care. He's my friend, and I'm going to support him.

Chad turns smoothly at the other end of the pool. Now he's coming back to where he started. His arms swing wide, performing a perfect butterfly each time. He's so focused on the wall ahead of him, never looking away once. And then he's done it; he qualified for the next round of heats before the finals.

"Yay!" We cheer, the three of us embracing. I can't help but smile at how quickly I was assimilated into this. They don't have to know me well to relish in joy with me. He finished second in the heat.

Chad's parents still have their eyes on each other, grinning and cheering, when Chad looks over. I fold my arms and smile at him. He nods in response, then continues on his way.

"Oh, just a few more heats and we'll know for sure if Chaddy made it in the finals!" Geraldine says, her eyes bright with happiness.

"I bet he is going to make it, do you see how he did in this one?" I ask. We glance up at the board. Chad did well, even compared to those who are moving on to the next heat, so I bet he'll make it to the finals.

"Oh, Jessica, thank you for being happy for our son! It must be extremely difficult, especially because of the predicament he got himself in with Michael Phelps," Bert adds.

I clench my fists for a moment. Then relax. They have no idea how much the mention of the feud bothers me. They mean no harm. I soften.

"Of course! He's been nothing but kind to me, I'm happy to be here for him," I reply. They nod and we take our seats again. Now, the only hope is that he qualifies in the next set of heats.

I cheered for the American men in the other heats, familiar names such as Tom Shields and of course, Michael Phelps. Both moved on, which is good for the United States.

In the second round of heats, Chad went against Tom Shields again, this time swimming faster than him, unlike the first round, where he was slightly slower. That means he has more endurance, and hopefully will keep it up for the finals. Oh, Chad made it onto the finals! But that's for tomorrow.

"I wish we were staying for tomorrow, he's doing so well!" Geraldine says, sitting down once Chad had smiled and waved and walked back into the locker room (or wherever it is they go before and after races, I don't actually know yet.)

"I can video chat you guys during the race, if you want to see it," I suggest.

To my surprise, she hugs me. "That'd be lovely, dear."

We used the next few minutes to exchange Skype information, taking advantage of the free WiFi. The plan is for me to message when I get here, then start the call a few minutes before the race starts, just in case something goes wrong and it takes longer to start. I'm not too worried, but we could use the few minutes to chat before the race. I'm getting along with his parents really well, and it makes me happy.

I get a notification saying Lars sent me a Snapchat. Grinning, I load the picture and open it. My face falls. It's a picture of Sven holding his phone to the camera, and I do not like what's on his phone screen.

It's an article, titled "Female American Athlete Seen Frolicking with Phelps' Rival le Clos." A picture of Chad and I holding hands is directly below it. I don't have enough time to begin reading the article, but now I know what to search.

My breathing increases. This isn't the kind of publicity I wanted. What are younger girls supposed to think? It's okay to sleep with your rival? This is most definitely not frolicking as it would be interpreted!

I put a smile back on my face as we exit the stands to meet Chad out back. I chat with his mother about plans for tonight and tomorrow. She hasn't seen the article, and even if or when she does, she won't care. I think I've proven myself to them; good intentions, good heart, and good goals.

"Oh, dear, I left my flag in my seat!" Geraldine says, gasping. She starts to turn back, but faces Bert and I in front of her.

"That's alright, you two can go get it, I'll find Chad and we can meet at the bus stop," I insist. They nod, thank me, and head back into the arena.

This is the perfect time for me to inform Chad about the article and possibly discuss ways to shut down the rumor. The world should know that he and I are just friends.

On my way to the back, reporters are everywhere, but luckily I have my identification card with me, so I push past and get inside, where only athletes, family members, trainers, and workers people are allowed. The hallway to the locker rooms is narrow, causing me to bump into a tall man dressed in red and blue.

"Michael?" I gasp, as soon as I look up.

He faces me. "Jessica, right?"

2/20/17

A lot of stuff has been happening. ACTs are next week, whoop-dee-doo. I think I'm finally content with the relationships in my life, other than the one with my sister, which is the usual. I feel good, I guess.