SWIMMING IN CHAOS~THOMAS CECCON

6

"Thomas"

When we finally arrive at the training complex, I head to the locker room, leaving Bianca behind, who stays chatting animatedly with Martina at the entrance.

As I enter, I put my things in the locker and start changing into my swimsuit. While doing so, I hear the door open, and Lorenzo walks in. 'Great,' I think.

"So, it's over between you and Bianca, huh?" he says suddenly. I'm surprised by his question.

"And why the hell do you care? Are you her father or something?" I reply without giving any explanations.

"No, but I'm her best friend, and I care about her," he responds.

"Yeah," I say with a hint of irony. "Seems like you've got more than just friendship in mind with her."

He suddenly starts laughing. "What the hell are you laughing at?"—he says nothing. 'Idiot,' I mutter, but he seems to hear me because he responds—"The only idiot here is you. Who in their right mind lets an amazing girl like Bianca slip away?"

With that final remark, he leaves the locker room, and I'm left alone. I finish getting ready and head to the pool.

When I arrive at the pool, the atmosphere is tense. The coach is reprimanding Bianca and her stupid friend for not showing up to training on Monday. He seems very angry; I've never seen him like this.

"I didn't expect this from either of you, but you, Bianca, you've really disappointed me"—I look at her, and her eyes are glassy. I can't help but feel pity and sympathy for her since she's one of the best swimmers, and I know the coach has a lot of faith in her for the upcoming Olympic Games. But when I remember the news with the picture of them hugging on the morning they were absent, my blood starts to boil.

"What was so important that you couldn't even bother to show up?"—Paolo asks, now more calmly.

In the absence of answers, I decide to step in, driven by anger—"They were too busy hugging. Not everyone here has the same priorities, it seems." I look at Bianca, at her face, which quickly turns from surprise to anger and hatred.

"Why don't you shut up, Ceccon?"—Lorenzo asks with a threatening tone.

"The one who should shut up is you. All you've been doing these past few months is filling Bianca's head with lies so she would hate me and leave me, just so you could have a chance to be with her. That's always been your damn intention! So no, don't tell me to shut up," I say, exploding.

"And you're a damn coward who can't even tell your girlfriend that you kissed someone else!"—I'm stunned by his response. Everyone turns to look at me, but I can only focus on Bianca.

Her face says it all. It's a mix of anger, rage, and resentment, but above all, sadness. After managing to improve the situation, I regret all of this. If I hadn't intervened, Lorenzo wouldn't have said anything.

I remember less than a month ago, he saw Isabella and me kissing in one of the locker room bathrooms. At that moment, my relationship with Bianca was at its worst, and I needed someone to listen to me, to vent and get all that crap off my chest. Isabella turned out to be the only one who helped, and I fell into her arms in an instant.

I can't deny that I'm attracted to Isabella, but I regret kissing her and even more so for not telling Bianca.

"This is what I mean when I say avoid letting your crap affect your professional careers, especially with the Olympics just around the corner,"—the coach suddenly says, snapping me out of the trance I was in.

When I look up, I see Lorenzo hugging Bianca. I clench my fists so tightly that I hurt myself. Consumed by rage, I run towards Lorenzo with the intention of hitting him, but before I can reach him, my teammates hold me back.

After a few minutes of silence, the coach decides to intervene—"Well, we need to start the training. You all know we're heading to Paris in two weeks, so I need you to be fully focused."

Resigned, I head to the pool to do the usual exercise routine.

"Bianca"

After a tough training session, I retreat to the locker room to get ready and leave here as soon as possible. I feel disgustingly awful, shattered. All I need right now is to go home and try to forget this disastrous morning.

As I'm gathering my last belongings, I see Isabella enter, humming a familiar Italian song. It's clear she's enjoying the situation. Without hesitation, I decide to break the silence.

"You're happy, aren't you? This is what you wanted, for things to get worse between Thomas and me so you could have him. Well, you know what? He's all yours."

"It seems he chose me over you. He told me he didn't love you anymore, that he was only with you out of pity, to not discourage you with the competition coming up"—I'm stunned by her words.

"What do you know? He's just using you to satisfy his urges"—I say without hesitation.

"Your boyfriend kisses very well, you know?"—she says, smiling without a hint of shame, which leaves me dazed.

"What kind of woman are you? Don't you have any shame? Well, I hope you're proud of yourself, aren't you? Proud to be with taken men, to break up relationships, to be a shameless viper, to humiliate another woman like this?"—I say, outraged.

As I'm about to continue speaking, I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I turn around, I see Martina, who looks at me with compassion—"Maybe it's better if we step outside and get some fresh air,"—she says, glancing at Isabella with disdain.

As we leave the locker room, we run into Luca, who is casually chatting with Thomas. The latter quickly approaches me with a concerned look.

"Can we talk for a moment?"—he asks gently. 'Is he serious, after the show earlier?' I think incredulously.

"We have nothing to talk about, especially since you didn't have the decency to tell me what happened with Isabella,"—I say firmly.

"Please, it'll only take a minute, I need to explain things to you,"—he says resignedly.

"Yesterday you were saying we might be making a mistake by breaking up, and today I find out you're a damn traitor who doesn't have the decency to be honest and lies to my face. Do you think it's normal that I had to find out from someone outside our relationship? Leave me alone."—I'm fed up with all this, all I want is to get out of here and lose sight of everyone. I head for the exit but feel Thomas grab my arm to make me stay.

"Don't touch me! I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you or know anything about you,"—I exclaim, outraged, causing a few heads to turn in our direction. "Anyway, what does it matter? We're not together anymore, we're nothing."—Thomas immediately lets go of my arm and says nothing more.

As I'm about to get into the car to leave, I see Lorenzo approaching, intending to talk. 'Just what I needed now, couldn't this disastrous day be over already?