Page 12 of Deep End

“Will she be in Melbourne, too?”

Lukas’s face could be a megalith on Easter Island.

“I bet she cannot wait to cheer you on.”

Sudden twitch in his jaw, like he’s a single question away from a rampage.Come on, Mrs. Sima. Read the Swede.

“If it was one of my children, I would take my whole extended family—”

“By the way, Lukas,” I interrupt, “Pen was looking for you a minute ago.”

His eyes fix mine. “Was she.” He’s not really asking. He knows it’s a lie.

“Yup.”Fly, little bird. Be free.

“Excuse me,” he says in the general direction of Mrs. Sima. I help myself to some coconut milk, but when I glance to make sure he escaped safely, his attention is once again on me, and—

Maybe Pen did tell him about me, and that’s why he’s so interested. Does he want to chat with me? Vent? Find someone who’ll sympathize? Does he want a heart-to-heart, kinkster to kinkster?

Maybe I should become a couples counselor. Nice alternative to med school. They might waive the foreign language requirement.

“First batch is ready,” Coach yells from the grilling area. “Everyone, help yourself!”

I eat my chicken burger slowly, quietly, while conversations flow. Pen sits in front of me, the center of attention, dispensing funny stories and warm feelings. Lukas is next to her, arms crossed on his chest, saying little, smiling rarely. He seems like a quiet, reserved guy. Together they are viciously, comprehension-defyingly good-looking. I don’t consider myself ugly by any means, but I had my years of braces and constant breakouts, which are not too far off. These two were clearly never less than radiant. Hard to stomach, really.

For the first time, everyone on the team is over twenty-one. Coach hands out his home brew, muttering something about how this better be our last sip of alcohol for the season. I picture him stirring and fermenting in the same bathtub where Leo discovered masturbation, and give it a pass. Lukas and Victoria, who both drove here, stop after the first bottle. The twins have two each, and comment on how much stronger than regular beer they are. Pen . . . I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t, either. Her laugh is a little loud, but she’s still her charming self.

After dinner I move to the patio with Bree, Bella, Devin, and Dale, where I struggle not to show how mind-boggled I am that two monozygotic twins are datinganotherset of monozygotic twins.

Was this preplanned? How did they meet? Did one couple find true love, then force the other into a relationship? Is kinky stuff involved? And, why am I so goddamn curious about other people’s private lives? Bold of someone who enjoys being tied up like a mesh bag full of limes. It’s a big relief when Pen wobbles over to “steal Vandy for a sec” and whispers at me, “Kinda weird, right? Twins dating twins?”

“I was thinking the exact same, and felt so bad about it.”

“I know, me too.”

“It’s inappropriate that this even occurred to me, but if each couple has a kid—”

“They’d be fraternal brothers!”

“Oh my god, yes!”

We high-five like we cracked the human genome and end up in the back of the house, toward a set of swings Coach must have installed when his kids were little.

“Is everything okay?” I ask when we sit. I rock a little, testing the sturdiness of this setup.

“Yup.” She giggles. Her eyes are glassy. “Except that Coach’s toilet beer is hitting me hard. I just needed a bit of quiet. You looked like you might, too.”

When do I not?“Want me to find Lukas and ask him to take you home?”

“God, that’s a great idea.” I make to stand, but she stops me. Taps at her phone. “I’ll just text him. He only came because I’d already told Coach that he would, anyway.”

“Oh. Did you two end up . . .”

“Breaking up? Yup. I’m free as a bird.” Her words slur, just a bit. She doesn’t look particularly happy.

“Do you want to, um, talk about it?” I’m not sure I’m equipped for it, but the idea of Pen wanting to confide in me is a warm, pleasant weight in my chest. Between my injury and my inability to stop working until I achieve perfection (i.e., never), I haven’t made many friends in college. Or before.

“Do I?” A shaky, forced laugh. Then her gaze fixes somewhere beyond me and she repeats, louder, “Do I?”

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