Drowning With You

CH. 15 ❄️

WINTER'S POV

We enter the swimming pool to see many other schools' teams here with us. It's loud, despite it only being time for warm ups.

The whole team only gets thirty minutes and two lanes to warm up before the next team uses these lanes, so we all jump in and start swimming.

It's always chaotic at meets, sometimes when we warm up in shared lanes with other teams, they pull on your feet to let you know they want to pass you, instead of just passing us at the wall.

I always have to yell at them.

We swim our laps and dive off the blocks for a few practice runs, then hop out and find our events on the sheet.

Sharpies are our best friends, written on our thighs or arms, we write everything we need for the day.

I've got four events this weekend, all about five hours apart. It's crazy how long these meets last, this one is two days long, although we've been to three and four day meets as well.

I look over to Louie, who's still working on her event chart on her thigh. I've been trying my best not to let myself give in to my stupid delusions and stare for too long.

Every time I talk to her, all I think is how much I want to stay with her, right there next to her. I want to touch her and... just look at her forever.

Ew. Why am I being so fucking weird?

Despite my whole mind telling me to stop being around her unless I need to, I walk over to her, all alone on the bleachers.

"Which events do you have?" I ask, looking at the events she's already written on her skin. It also gives me an excuse to look at her beautiful thighs. Fuck, I need to stop.

"100 freestyle, 400 IM, 200 breaststroke, and a relay." Not a bad list, except for the relay which sucks since nobody likes her, meaning her own relay team holds a grudge. That sounds mean, but that's just how it is. "How about you?"

"500 freestyle, 200 IM, 200 breaststroke, and 100 butterfly." Nobody except crazy people like butterfly, but Coach signed me up for it and I can't miss it. I hate it with my whole heart.

"Oh, damn." She slips her goggles and cap off then lets out a breathy sigh. Our events don't start for a bit since the younger kids from other towns are doing their smaller races.

Most of us gravitate towards the gym, located across from the pool building. We stay here for a bit on blankets and cots while chilling with our phones and reading books, watching the giant board that tells everyone which event and heat is going on at the moment.

An hour and a half later, Louie is starting with her 100 freestyle. She's on heat 15 out of 28, which means we have about 6 heats to go. I watch as she starts her laps in the single warm up lane while the other races are going on next to her.

I try not to stare, I try not to make it obvious that I am only watching her, but I can't. Noticing the improvement in her stroke, her kick is much better, she's getting great—and this isn't even her sprint yet.

She hops out and walks over to Coach, where she starts getting lectured about everything she needs to remember for her race.

Coach is most likely reminding her about tucking into her flip turns, her breathing techniques, and her dive. The basics.

She nods and gets to the lines for her race. I follow her over, not sure why, but I haven't talked to her in a bit.

"Good luck with your race," I tell her, feeling stupid about how much I've switched up around her. It's no longer easy to be mean to her.