Page 43 of Deep End

“He and Hasan are talking about soccer—sorry,football—somewhere in the living room. It’s so European in there, I had to get out before my dick turned into a bidet.”

“See you later, KyJess.” Pen takes my hand and drags me deeper into the house. There must be thirty or forty people here, and while I’d probably be able to name only a fifth, most faces are familiar. “All the swimmers came,” she tells me with a smile, like it’s agoodthing. And it is, I guess. They’re tight-knit. Hang out every preseason weekend. It’s nice, just . . .

“There’s Luk,” she adds, pulling me through the throng of too-hot bodies. He’s on the couch with Rachel and a few others, fingersclosed around a dark glass bottle, wholly focused on what Hasan is saying. He laughs and shakes his head, gesturing as he explains something. The memory of his hand on me is so visceral, my heart explodes in my stomach.

“Restroom,” I tell Pen. “Be right back.”

I’m just not in the mood for this. And bythis, I mean the way Lukas looks at me, like he can see the little crumpled-up piece of paper tucked in a corner of my head, the one where I wrote down my secrets. Like he could easily flatten it and read every last word.

He’s unnerving. And other things I’d rather not deal with.

I wander into the kitchen. Lots of swimmers smile and say hi, but I can tell that they either can’t fully place me, or they’re surprised to see me. I sip on my beer, trying to avoid creating fanfiction of people’s smallest facial expressions until I’m certain that they despise me. If only googling whether someone hates me were a possibility.

When was the last house party I went to? Maybe on my recruitment trip, when an upperclassman shoved a White Claw in my hands and left me terrified—half that someone would snitch to the coaches that I’d drunk it, half that they’d . . . still snitch to them, that I was too lame to drink.

Bree finds me a minute later, and I wish her a happy birthday, clumsily returning her hug. “I’m so happy you came,” she tells me. “Bella’s devastated that Victoria won’t.”

“I’m so happy to be here, too.”

It’s not true, but spending the next twenty minutes chatting with her helps. For the following fifteen it’s a swimmer who shadowed me in a chem class last year during his recruitment trip, but he’s clearly looking to hook up with another guy on the team, and when it becomes obvious that I’m in their way, I whip out another restroom excuse. Upstairs I find a small sunroom, and slump on an IKEA Poäng chair—the exact copy of the one Maryam and Iassembled last year, during a macabre comedy of errors that nearly became a fatal, mutual murder. Can’t believe we managed to move past that one.

I check my phone, and boy it’s a mistake. Herr Karl-Heinz’s social life must be as active as mine, because four minutes ago he posted the results of our latest German test. I know better than to check, but I do just that and ruin what’s left of my day.

Because it’s a C. With a message.

Scarlett—may I call you Scharlach? Let me know if you’d like to talk about ways to improve your performance. I’d love to see you succeed, and there is no shame in asking for help. Viel Glück!

I cross my legs on Poäng and sink my face into my hands.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I didn’tneedhelp.

I was a competent diver.

I had a boyfriend and good grades.

Once upon a time, I had shit under control. And then I must have pulled the wrong book from the JengAss tower, because everything is collapsing and—

“Not a good night?”

I don’t need to look up to know it’s Lukas, but I do it anyway, hating the flush that immediately hits my cheek. He fills the door-frame in a way I struggle to comprehend, ominous, backlit, the strong lines of his face destructively handsome. His muscular arms hold both jambs, and he’s once again barefoot, even though no such request was made of guests upon arrival.

“It’s good, I just . . .”

His eyebrow lifts, inquisitive, and I fall quiet. “Pen was looking for you,” he says.

“Oh? Does she—are we leaving?”

“Just checking in.” His lips curve a little. “She’s protective of you.”

She has been lovely, really. Taking me under her wing. I’m wondering whyLukascame to find me, but as usual he’s reading my mind.

“Just trying to escape being offered coke for the third time.”

“The doping officers would love that.”

“I considered doing a line, just to give them something to talk about.”

I laugh quietly. Some of the tension relaxes. “I was going to return downstairs in a minute. I just . . . I’m tired, I think.”

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