Page 140 of Deep End

His fingers close around my wrist. “I asked for you.”

“What?”

For a few moments, his jaw works. “Every single person Pen andI had sex with was her choice, and I was okay with it. But when you joined the team, I asked her if she could approach you.”

“I . . .” My cheeks glow, on fire. “Why?” But I remember something I haven’t thought of in months: Pen’s words at Coach Sima’s barbecue.I know you think she’s hot. You said so.

“You were beautiful, but that wasn’t . . . You seemed so quiet and reserved. We have this saying in Swedish, ‘In the calmest of waters . . . ’ I couldn’t stop thinking that you were hiding something. That there was a secret in there, something everyone else was missing. And . . .” A silent laugh. “I was right. It was there. Same as mine.” He looks at the slowly setting sun. “So I asked Pen about you. It was the first time I did anything like that.”

“And?” I’m surprised my vocal cords still work.

“You had a boyfriend, and that was it. But she didn’t forget. She knew I found you attractive, would tease me about it, in her way. That’s what she does with people she loves.”

I feel a little numb. “Is that why she threw me at you at Coach Sima’s house?”

“Maybe. Or maybe she was just drunk.”

I nod, realizing that Ireallydon’t want to talk about this any longer. “We should finish the shaving. Okay?” I force a smile. “Let me make you smoother than a saxophone solo.”

Lukas mutters something that sounds like “This needs to stop, Scarlett,” but before lying back, he pulls me down and kisses me.

I kiss him back, and it’s unlike any other time.

CHAPTER 54

IT’S NOT A GOOD YEAR FOR USA DIVING.Hayden Bosko, our three-meter hopeful, loses hope somewhere around her fourth dive and limps to a tired sixth place. Carissa and Natalie don’t even make it to the synchro finals. Peter Bryant forgets the concept of rip entry while in the air, and Akane, our only medal, pulls off a bronze by the skin of her teeth. And then there’s me.

BARB:Maybe you’re not on the podium, but you are officially the ninth best platform diver in the world. Isn’t that good?

It doesn’tfeelgood, not as half a dozen sports journalists who’d rather be on the NFL beat ask me, “What went wrong, Scarlett?”

Everything, I want to scream. Instead I clear my throat, and say, “Lots of tiny mistakes that added up.” It’s true. No earthquakes, just aftershocks. I smile and repeat what the media specialist taught us. “I’m really happy to be here.”

But I’mnot. “What a waste of time,” Akane mutters back in the hotel room.

“I fucking hate it.”

“Wanna join me in my feel-like-shit ritual?”

“What’s that?”

We spend an hour watching amateur diving fails, and when Akane falls asleep, I head upstairs. Nine months ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever dive competitively again. I have no reason to be this frustrated with myself. “Why am I so furious?” I ask the second Lukas opens the door, brushing past him.

“What happened to your back?”

“What—oh.” I guess he can see the bruises under my tank top. “Nothing. I screwed up the fulcrum, smacked during my lead-ups.”

“What the fuck, Scarlett?” He turns me around to examine the purpling edges.

“It’s fine. It was during warm-up, it’s not bad—”

“Thisisbad.”

“It was from the board and—” I whirl around, surprised by the worry in his eyes. “I should be happy, shouldn’t I?” My cheeks feel wet, because my fucking eyes are leaking. I wipe at them with my palms. “ ‘Just happy to be here.’ That’s supposed to be my motto.”

He crosses his arms. Gives me a long, assessing stare. “Where else are you hurt?”

“Just that and the back of my thighs, but—”

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