Page 144 of Deep End

“The king’s elderly and has no idea who I am, thank fuck. And this shit, it’s not the kind of love I’m interested in, Scarlett.” He says it so pointedly, into my eyes, it could almost be a jab, but . . . not quite. “Being respected as a swimmer is great. But I don’t want to make that my identity any longer than I already have. I’ve been telling this to Pen for years. She just thinks I’ll miss the attention and pull a Tom Brady.”

I’m not so sure. Lukas is single-minded, yes, but I can see him apply that drive to many other parts of his life. “You won’t,” I say.

“What?”

“Change your mind.”

“I don’t think so, either. Wanting a gold medal, a record, it’s a great dream. But it’s not mine anymore.”

I tilt my head. “What’s yours, then?”

His smile is crooked. “For a while, I thought I needed to have some over-the-top goal, something comparable to the Olympics, but . . .” He stops. Runs his thumb over my lower lip. “I want to spend four years in med school, fully knowing that it’ll be hell. Do a fellowship and a residency.Corpse stuff, sure. I want to travel to places that don’t have a fucking pool. See my family more than once a year. Sleep in. Go on hiking trips. Stay home for long weekends and have morally bankrupt amounts of sex with someone I’m in love with. Kinky, vanilla, I want it all. I want to adopt rescue animals with her. I want to take care of her, and watch her be cold in Sweden, and marvel every day at how much smarter than me she is, and . . . Scarlett.” His thumb swipes under my eye. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a lie. I want to deny it. But my cheeks are blotchy and hot. There’s a terrible, scalding thing inside me that threatens to explodeall the way out, and all I can do is hide my face into his throat. “I don’t know.”

His hand is heavy on the back of my head. “Are you sure?”

I’m not. But I nod, and even though his sigh tells me that he sees through my half-truths, he still hugs me like he’ll never let me go.

CHAPTER 55

MEI TAKES ME ASIDE BEFORE THE FLIGHT HOME, EYES ALLbusiness. I brace for a lecture on the ways I disappointed her, but she surprises me.

“Here’s what I’d do if I were you, between now and the Olympic trials. Stop wasting your time on the springboard.”

I blink. “I . . . what?”

“No offense. Actually—full offense. Take this as the harsh reality check it’s meant to be.” She shrugs. “Unless the Three Wise Men visit you bearing gifts of gold, frankincense, and a spanking new hurdle, you’re not going to win three meters. The ten-meter platform? When you’re good, you’refantastic. But you make too many mistakes, and there’s only one way to beat that out of yourself.” I’m so terrified that she’ll bring up corporal punishment, the conclusion is almost underwhelming. “Train smarter. Be more selective. And you could stand to lose a couple degrees of difficulty.”

I scowl. “My degrees of difficulties are already lower than before my injury—”

“Guess what? You have a different body now. Stop living in the past. You’re less flexible but have better control. What you need isconsistency.”

I hate that there’s no magic button, no sleight of hand except for hard work. I still thank Mei for everything she’s done, which is a lot.

“And, Vandy?” she calls after me.

I turn around on my way out.

“Send me your TiVos if you need pointers. I love telling people what they’re doing wrong.”

Lukas wins three golds, a silver, and two bronzes.

The airport in Amsterdam is leather-market crowded, and his fingers hook into the belt loops of my jeans to keep me as close as possible. With the aquatics-loving population denser than usual, people recognize him every ten steps. Other athletes, but also a couple of families, and a group of American girls who look at him like heis, in fact, an underwear model. He’s pleasant about it, but I can tell he hates it, so while he’s at the ticketing desk, I buy him an orange Netherlands hat and the douchiest pair of sunglasses I can find.

I snicker at hisAre you for fucking real?frown. Hoot at the challenge in his expression as he puts both on, and snap a picture to add to his contact.

“You have me in your phone as Lukas Penelope?”

“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t sure how to spell your last name. There are some backasswardsq’s andv’s in there.”

He gives me an unimpressed look and holds out his hand, demanding, so I give him my phone.

“Write your name, though, not dumb stuff. Maryam checks my notifications if I leave my phone out. She found out that Barb had broken up with her boyfriend before me.”

“What’s dumb stuff?”

“I don’t know. Sex god. Master. Daddy Dom.”

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