euphoria. [ rini au ]

chapter twenty.

Nini took her time unlacing her shoes and peeling off her socks. Tossing them into her bag, she reached a hand up to pull the elastic from her hair, letting the waves spill over her shoulders. Heaving her stiff body to her feet, she slowly and painfully reached down to grip the hem of her racing singlet and bring it over her head. Her shorts followed as both her dropped into the bag on the bench. The shower felt heavenly as the water beat into her skin, rinsing off her sweat. Bending her head, the water flowed in rivers, down her face and hair.

She had lost. Second wasn't first. It wasn't even a close second, but two full seconds behind the winner. She sighed, breathing in a heavy cloud of mist and dampness, and refused to cry. Crying would mean she was disappointed in herself and she wasn't. Crying would mean resenting that the other girl was better and she was, so how could she resent the truth. Crying would mean that something could have been changed or altered and Nini could find nothing that needed to be. She had trained her hardest and improved further than she had expected of herself. She had run the race with every cell of her being and someone else had beaten her. So be it. It didn't make the disappointment any easier to bear, but it was far from the overwhelming sensation of shattering into fragments that she had felt before.

Stepping from the shower, she brought the towel around her and ran it over herself quickly. She slid on some black shorts and a sweatshirt, bare feet slapping the floor as she padded back to her gear in the quiet room. Running fingers through her soaked hair, she finger combed the strands into a messy bun that kept it from soaking her back.

He appeared in the mirror, a reflection of him leaning against the far wall where the door to the school hallways was hidden by painted cinder blocks and rows of caged lockers. His hands were casually in his pockets but there was nothing casual about the look on his face that searched hers for cracks or faults. She tossed the towel aside and carefully placed her shoes into the bag, feeling his gaze sweep every inch of her.

"You did well," he told her, not moving from his spot.

"Not well enough," she began but continued before he could protest, "But good enough for me. I can live with it."

"Can you?" he asked, shoving the wall away and moving to sit on the bench as she pulled on her slide-on sandals.

"I can," she assured him with a smile. "I did my best out there. I pushed further than I thought I ever could. I ran faster than I had thought possible, and maybe I didn't win but I finished. I gave it my best and sometimes things don't just happen because you try. Sometimes it's more than trying."

"You're not talking about track anymore," he countered, reaching out to grasp her hand.

"I think it applies to lots of things," she agreed, "Like us, like any relationship. Like school or basketball."

"What do you mean 'like us'?" he asked, tempered panic in his voice.

"Ricky, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that there were lots of times when we thought we were trying to be friends or trying to play nice and the opposite occurred. Throw anyone in our place into Colorado and maybe the effects would have been the same or maybe they would have been different, who knows? The point is that us trying wasn't the only thing that got us here. It was luck and timing and chemistry. As far as track goes, it just wasn't my time and I'm okay with that."

"We're going to be okay, Neens," he told her. "We are not like track. I agree that us trying had very little to do with how we got here, but I think the trying is important. i think the effort is important. I think the trust and understanding and communication is all important. We will work because we want to work. And if down the road, something crazy happened and we find ourselves going in different directions, we will still work. It may not be the same way, but there will be an us in some form."