“Yo, Talon,” Ledger said, walking toward me and scanning the stands. “Is one of those girls up there Library Girl?”
Ridge joined us, adjusting his cap and squinting toward the bleachers. “Yeah, man, give it up. Did she actually come, or were you making her up?”
“She came,” I said, sharper than I meant to, but it shut them up for a second. I exhaled and added, “Her name’s Livvi.”
Ledger’s grin spread slowly. “Livvi. Got it. So Livvi showed up to watch you swim? This must be serious.”
I shoved his shoulder and rolled my eyes.Serious. The only thing I’d ever been serious about was swimming, and even that sometimes felt like it owned me more than the other way around. I didn’t do anything serious with women—not really. Never cared enough to let it overlap with the pool. Inviting someone here? That was new. Weird. And maybe I didn’t want to think too hard about why I’d asked her.
“Yeah, no pressure or anything,” Ridge chimed in with a smirk. “Just the most important race of your life and a woman in the stands batting her eyelashes at you.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, though my mouth twitched. Livvi wasn’t the eyelash-batting type. More like thestare-you-down-until-you-cracktype.
Ledger clapped my shoulder, more serious this time. “Nah, for real. Swim your race, Talon. Show her what you can do.”
The words steadied me instead of piling on weight. Not pressure—fuel. A reminder that I wasn’t just chasing a time. I was ready to prove it, to myself, to my team … and yeah, maybe even to her.
I stepped up onto the block, lungs pulling in one last deep breath. My muscles coiled, tuned tight like a spring. Ledger’s words echoed in my head, sharpening my focus.
This wasn’t about nerves. This was about showing what I could do.
The buzzer sounded, and I exploded forward.
Water swallowed me whole, cold and electric. Butterfly burned different than anything else. Arms and chest catching fire by the halfway mark, lungs begging for more air than I could give. It wasn’t about comfort; it was about rhythm. Kick, pull, kick, pull, breathe. A fraction off and it would unravel. I wasn’t thinking about times or cuts anymore—I was racing. I was flying.
I hit the wall for the turn, legs coiled, and exploded out again. Every muscle screamed, but that was how I knew I was on pace. Last twenty-five. Everything in me clenched, burned, begged to quit. I didn’t. I never did. I drove harder, arms heavy but refusing to slow. Andsomewhere in the blur above the water, I knew she was watching.
The final wall rushed up; I reached, my fingertips slamming the pad.
Chest heaving, I clung to the wall and yanked my eyes up to the scoreboard.
My time.
A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding ripped out of me. Not the time I had hoped for—not yet—but closer. Closer than I’d ever been.
My teammates were yelling, slapping the water, but all I heard was the pounding in my ears. And when I finally looked past the scoreboard to the stands, there she was—clapping again, a small grin tugging at her mouth like she might actually be impressed.
That was new.
I yanked my cap off and shook water from my hair, still buzzing from the race. My teammates swarmed me, slapping my back and yelling, but I barely heard them. My eyes scanned the stands—and there she was.
Livvi, already halfway to standing, like she was ready to slip out before I could reach her. That thought had my stomach dropping in a way I didn’t expect. I wasn’t letting her leave without a word.
“Livvi!” I barked over the commotion, grabbing the towel and slinging it over my shoulders.
Heads turned as people started patting me on the back, shouting congratulations. Handshakes, slaps, high fives—it was like wading through a river of well-wishers, each one slowing me down, testing my patience. Iducked under an arm, sidestepped a parent, and pushed past a teammate.
Finally, I made it to the railing. She froze, halfway to the aisle, caught before she could disappear.
“Hey,” I said, voice steady, effortless.
She glanced up at me, startled, and offered a small careful smile. “Hey.”
I leaned on the railing, towel falling loosely from my shoulders, letting the cocky smile I was known for (and assumed would simultaneously annoy her and intrigue her) come out. “You weren’t going to leave without saying hi, were you?”
Her eyebrows arched, that smile tugging wry at the edges. “You looked a little busy.” She nodded toward the pack of teammates still shouting my name.
I shrugged. “They’ll live. You, though? Would’ve broken my heart if you’d slipped out.”