Inked In Love

Twentyone

Twenty one

"Stop spying on us and get ready," I snapped at Bryony as I caught her sneaking glances around the corner.

"Babe, it's fine. Good luck," Josh said softly, bending down to plant a quick kiss on her cheek before urging her to leave.

He followed me as we headed to our seats, camera in hand. He'd been capturing footage of everyone prepping for the competition.

We reached our seats with plenty of time to spare. The venue buzzed with energy, packed with proud parents and friends, all eagerly awaiting the races to begin.

I had originally wanted just Tina and me to watch, despite Ryan and the rest of the staff offering to join us for support. I needed to focus.

Theo had also offered to come, but I told him it wasn't necessary. Thankfully, he didn't push, sensing my mood that morning. He might've noticed the tension, but I didn't give him a chance to ask, rushing out before he could.

Tina mentioned they all went out for dinner afterward, and I can't deny it bothered me. Michelle was upset, as her father had been diagnosed with cancer, and my relationship with my dad probably hit a nerve.

"Scott's up first," I said to Josh, who sat beside me in complete silence. And I mean complete, like he was afraid to make a sound.
I wondered if Bryony or Melissa had said something to him about me.

We watched Scott and George walk out with the other swimmers, positioning themselves behind their lanes. Scott scanned the crowd, and I raised my thumb in a show of support when he spotted me.

Below us, Scott's dad sat, a figure that had seemed intimidating when I met him earlier, but now just looked like a fiercely proud parent.

I patted Scott's dad on the shoulder as the swimmers readied themselves. When the gun went off, they dove into the water, and Scott cut through it with a near-perfect splash. My eyes followed his body as he emerged and launched into his butterfly stroke.

The crowd roared as they swam, with George going strong in his lane. I had given him a pep talk earlier, as his nerves had been getting the better of him.

By the second lap, Scott was in third place but close behind the leader. I bit my lip as the race intensified, my eyes flicking between Scott and George. Suddenly, George surged forward with a burst of energy, his strongest trait, something I'd noticed in training. He always saved his best for last.

His mind held power and encouraged him when his body began to tire.

"Holy shit," Josh muttered as Scott and George powered forward, Scott now matching the strokes of second place, just an arm's length from the leader.

Scott's dad was on his feet, shouting as they neared the finish. It was neck and neck, and we couldn't tell who'd won. Everyone held their breath, eyes glued to the screen.

"That's my boy!" Scott's dad yelled as Scott's name flashed on the board in first place, followed by another swimmer, with George clinching third.

I grinned, proud of them both. Maybe I should start recording my pep talks.

Scott splashed the water in celebration when he saw his name, while Josh zoomed in with his camera, capturing the boys' victory leap into each other's arms.

"Well done," I said, giving Scott's dad a congratulatory pat on the back.

"Thank you," he replied, gripping my hand. "I can tell you're tough on him, but it's paying off."

"He deserves it," I agreed with a nod. Scott had earned every bit of that victory. As I settled in for the next race, I felt a flicker of hope—maybe I'd go easier on him from now on. After all, that was one hell of a performance.