Page 91 of Stroke of Fate

It’s his last event and his best stroke: the 100-meter backstroke. I debated taking more notes, but I’d rather give my full attention to the race. Besides, I met with Professor Blackwell earlier this week, and she was happy with my progress thus far.

Levi is competing in lane five this round, and I know that’s a good sign. The middle lanes usually go to swimmers favored to win the heat.

Levi removes his sweatpants and jacket, revealing his sculpted physique, and I try not to drool. I'm all too aware that my boyfriend’s mom is sitting right next to me.

He looks up into the crowd and finds us. It’s brief, and in a blink, his gaze falls back to the rippling blue water. I know his focus has shifted.

Even from here, I can see how calm and controlled he looks. Every breath he takes is calculated. His muscles flex as he stretches and shakes them out.

Somewhere in the background, a buzzer goes off, signaling to the swimmers to get ready, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

He’s got this.

I don’t focus on anyone but Levi as they get into their starting positions.

The only other time I’ve seen him swim is during training, but it’s nothing compared to the energy in the natatorium right now. Hushed whispers fade into a pin-drop type of silence.

The start signal goes off, and the noise levels increase again as the swimmers launch into the water. The cheers and shouts of encouragement are nothing more than a buzz in my ears as my eyes track Levi.

He glides through the water with grace-like ease, but he’s not pulling ahead like I thought he would. Either he’s biding his time or swimming against some fierce competition this round.

Anxious for him, my knee bounces, and my teeth sink into my bottom lip.

Levi’s neck and neck with the person to his right. They reach the opposite wall at the same time before disappearingunderwater for their flip turns. Levi breaks through the surface and takes the lead, but the gap between first and second is still tight.

Next to me, Sophia is shouting his name, but my nerves are too frayed to join in on the cheering.

“Come on, hang on,” I mutter under my breath.

Seconds feel like hours as Levi races toward first place.

After a few more powerful strokes, it’s over.

Levi’s fingers graze the wall a mere second faster than the next guy. But that’s all he needs to clinch the win.

I’m on my feet, cheering with Sophia, who wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight as we jump up and down.

“That was so intense,” My laughter is a mix of relief and overwhelming pride.

“If I didn’t see my hairdresser once a month, I’d have a head full of gray hair already,” Sophia laughs, her eyes glistening with moisture.

After today, I’m pretty sure a few of my blonde strands have turned gray, too.

***

Sophia leaves after the medal ceremony to get a head start on dinner while I stay behind to ride back with Levi.

I spot him weaving his way through the parking lot, and my stomach flips at how good he looks in his gray sweatpants and Huska University hoodie.

When he reaches me with outstretched arms, I jump into them, letting him lift me off the ground. My arms cling to his shoulders as my legs wrap around his waist.

“You were amazing,” I murmur into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

Fresh soap and a hint of chlorine linger on his skin, wrapping around me like something familiar and safe. It smells like home.

“I think you’re my lucky charm,” Levi says, holding me close.

“I’ve seen you practice. Trust me, that was all you.” I laugh as my back meets his passenger-side door.

---